#Hi-Tech Buzzer System

[anjalisiotey]

Hi-Tech Buzzer System

Now make your own TV style quiz game show with Silent Equipment Rentals buzzers on rent in all over India. These dome-shaped, hi-tech buzzers system can make your corporate event, seminars or even a corporate game show a lively one. We are also available for school quizzes, medical discussions or any other TV game shows. Our world class buzzers give you uninterrupted service and turn any event into an interesting one.

[silentequipmentrent]

Buzzer System rental

Buzzer systems rental are not only fun but also incredibly functional. These systems consist of a central control unit and individual player buzzers, providing a simple yet effective means of communication in various settings. Here are some of the benefits of utilizing a buzzer system for your event: Buzzer systems add an element of competition and excitement to your event. Participants love the thrill of buzzing in to answer questions or compete against each other. This engagement keeps attendees actively involved and invested in the event. With a buzzer system, you can instantly gauge your audience's knowledge, opinion, or preferences. Whether it's a quiz show or a survey, you can receive immediate feedback, helping you adapt and customize your event in real time.

[mashitandsmashit]

AGT Season 18: Live Shows 3

11: Phil Wright & Parent Jam. Well, no doubt Howie's starting to look to fans like he hates any act that involves families, but I can't say he didn't have reason to be critical for this one...Again, it was fun, had some nice presentation, and SOME of these people can legitimately dance...But it's still more a school recital than a Vegas act...

10: Barry Brewer Jr. I don't know what was a worse choice, losing the keyboard, or committing the entire set to one typical spousal-argument story...The only thing keeping this out of the bottom spot is that a FEW of the jokes elicited a chuckle...

9: Summer Rios. I think Summer has a legitimately good voice, and I acknowledge that she's been going raspy lately...Still, the song felt a little safe for her, and seemed to hold back the VERY small chances she ever had at making the Top 2...

8: Trigg Watson. And the award for biggest letdown of the night goes to...Yeah, the cool tech was still there, but unlike his audition where he threw cool effect after cool effect at us, this one had just one at the beginning, one in the middle, and one at the end...The rest of it was slow and plodding, and I kinda wish he avoided resorting to the typical close-up tricks...Still, with how popular magicians tend to be in the votes, he could still very well get voted higher than some much more deserving acts...

7: Justin Jackson. With how small and short it was, I will admit that I appreciate his efforts with the jumprope and confetti and such...Still, this is more for the streets than the stage...

6: Putri Ariani. I will admit, I'm not AS excited for Putri as a lot of other people are...Still, she performed a unique rendition of U2's biggest song, and she rocked the hell out of that hijab made from the golden confetti she got at her audition! Obviously, she's a lock for tomorrow...

5: Philip Bowen. From System of a Down to Dropkick Murphys...I must say, I like his taste in music! I suppose the violin might have sounded a LITTLE scratchy tonight...But I love his showmanship, and that audience participation section was a definite highlight for the evening! He's not likely to advance, but it would do my heart well to see him at LEAST make the Top 5 tomorrow...

4: Herwan Legaillard. What would it be like if Aidan Bryant added sword-swallowing to his act...? It would probably look something like this...albeit with less fabulous outfits! Sadly, the shock factor will likely keep him from getting NEARLY as many votes as he deserves...

3: Mzansi Youth Choir. While I SLIGHTLY preferred the acapella vocals of their audition, this still had a very beautiful harmony! This is the Golden Buzzer act I prefer advancing tomorrow...But unfortunately, Putri is the clear frontrunner, and rarely do BOTH GB acts take those two top spots...Still, as you can see, there are two acts I liked even more tonight...

2: MOS. Totally disagree with Howie! This is not a back-up band; These ladies are superstars! Everything from the instrumentation to the choreography was stepped up big from the audition! Like their fellow instrumentalist tonight, Philip, hopefully they'll at least make the Top 5, DESPITE Howie's little criticism...

1: Warrior Squad. The unthinkable has happened! V.Unbeatable has just been given a legitimate run for their money! This was at such a new level from their audition that it's not even funny! Every formation was like pure Bollywood magic! I'd say this is a fine example of an act I would pay to see in Vegas, and if they don't make the Finals tomorrow, then they NEED to be a wildcard!

So far, we're 3 for 3 with these live shows...Again, it's such a shame that there are so many acts in these shows that won't get to perform again this season...

But that's the cruel nature of this show...So let's go ahead and take a crack at predicting how everyone's gonna line up in the votes tomorrow...

11: Phil Wright & Parent Jam

10: Barry Brewer Jr.

9: Justin Jackson

8: Summer Rios

7: Herwan Legaillard

6: Trigg Watson

5: MOS

4: Philip Bowen

3: Mzansi Youth Choir

2: Warrior Squad

1: Putri Ariani

See you tomorrow when we see what Chapel Hart's been up to...

---

Well, CH's new song wasn't my favorite of theirs...But at least the lead's voice has gotten better...

Anyway, I'm pretty damn "gutted" myself for Warrior Squad...I'll admit, I was legitimately hoping they would be one of the two...But I guess it was them against two GB acts, and when Terry announced Mzansi advancing first, I knew it was over for the Warriors...Still, this was exactly how I felt for Celia Munoz last year, and she got the wildcard vote, so I can hope for the same with WS...Even though I KNOW they won't win the whole thing...

Otherwise, things went pretty much exactly as I hoped for...I knew Philip and MOS didn't stand a chance against those other three, but as I said the night before, just them both making the Top 5 is enough for me...Consider it the equivalent of being a Semi-Finalist in an earlier season, only without the further threat of getting buzzed and having much good will on the show tarnished...

As for the two who DID make it, I can't help but wonder if they're really sending them through based on who got more votes anymore...I MIGHT have believed Ahren Belisle got more votes than Murmuration, but I really don't see how Mzansi got more votes than Putri (even though I personally prefer them). They're probably just sending them through based on how they're lined up at the end...Which I guess is a good idea, since it makes the voters less aware who the obvious favorites are...So I guess the only one at a disadvantage in the Finals is the Wildcard...Which again, could very well be Warrior Squad this year...

So onto NEXT week...As always, let's start by ranking everyone's odds...There's a case to be made for everyone here, but this is based on who America is most likely to cling to...

11: Puppet Simon & the Cow Belles

10: Anna DeGuzman

9: D'Corey Johnson

8: Kylie Frey

7: Mariandrea

6: Freedom Singers

5: Orlando Leyba

4: Roland Abante

3: Shadow Ace

2: Zion Clark

1: Chibi Unity

And now for how much I'm rooting for them...

11: Kylie Frey

10: Freedom Singers

9: D'Corey Johnson

8: Anna DeGuzman

7: Roland Abante

6: Orlando Leyba

5: Puppet Simon & The Cow Belles

4: Mariandrea

3: Shadow Ace

2: Chibi Unity

1: Zion Clark

And finally my best guess at the running order...

1: Chibi Unity

2: D'Corey Johnson

3: Anna DeGuzman

4: Puppet Simon & The Cow Belles

5: Mariandrea

6: Freedom Singers

7: Shadow Ace

8: Kylie Frey

9: Orlando Leyba

10: Roland Abante

11: Zion Clark

LET'S GO, ZION! SHOW THEM THAT YOU'RE VEGAS MATERIAL!

[sporadicthingcollection]

Poise Counterpoise (Tech x F!Reader)

Summary: Tech's first date with you has him shaking in his boots. Sequel to Point Counterpoint.

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader.

Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶

Word Count: ~5.8k.

Warnings: Mention of domestic violence, mild violence, PiV sex.

"Got no time," is what you're known to say I'll make you wish there was forty-eight hours to each day Your problem is you ain't been loved like you should What I got to give will sure 'nough do you good...

---

Tech would have been on time to meet you. And then Cid had a "quick" mission for them that wasn't so quick and Echo tripped an alarm.

And then they get back and Hunter lets slip that Tech has a date, and Cid sneers in disbelief.

"And you're going in that?" She throws a handful of credits at him. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, Goggles: on the corner of Pinnacle and Fifty-Seventh is a department store. You’re gonna go in and buy a pair of slacks with a crease down the front. Then you’re gonna buy a nice shirt. One with buttons and a collar. Then you’re gonna put them on and then you’re gonna pick her up. Got it?”

The shirt is itchy. The pants are stiff. But they’re civvies and color coordinated and, apparently, that’s what matters. He finds some comfort in his boots and the belt around his waist, but it's not much.

His stomach is full of fuzz as he climbs the stairs to your apartment, step by agonizing step. As he raises his hand to press the buzzer, his limbic system finally hits its tipping point and his joints seize up.

He’s making a mistake, the little voice of self-doubt mutters.

It’s hard to ignore that voice. It’s instinct. It’s experience. It saved his life a thousand times before as a soldier of the Republic and it will a thousand times again as a soldier of fortune.

But this is not the battlefield. And this isn’t mercenary work. This is a man taking a woman out on a date -- vice versa, actually. You're the one with the steady job. All the money he makes goes to ship repairs and rations.

Another reason to not like him, the voice says. No money, no prospects, no normal life. Should’ve added that to the list. Maybe you would have listened to reason then.

...no, you wouldn’t have. You knew what you wanted and you knew what he needed. To be told to shut up and kiss you. You’re a very self-assured woman. He likes that about you.

And realistically, what’s the worst that could happen? You’ve been friends for weeks. You’ve sat through him prattling on about things countless times. Now there’s just an added physical element. Shouldn’t be hard to account for.

A snatch of music reaches his ears, coming from an open window. It’s a cheerful, upbeat tune he’s heard on the radios around town, about going dancing with a partner.

He can see it clearly in his mind’s eye, you mouthing the words and dancing around the ‘fresher as you fix your hair and put on your makeup. It sounds like something you would do.

It makes his heart flip, and the sudden burst is just enough for him to override the lock on his joints and ring the buzzer.

After a moment, the door opens, and he’s greeted with a strange sight.

He’s met your little brother before. Being around Omega’s age, Phthalo lives with your parents, but he often comes by your apartment to ‘hang,’ as he puts it. Probably something to do with you having a faster holonet connection.

Right now, he’s clad in a fluffy bathrobe and chewing on a brightly-colored plastic pipe. He regards Tech with narrowed eyes. “Hello, Mr. Tech,” he says in a deep voice.

Odd, but probably not a threat. “Phthalo,” he says with a nod. “Is your sister here?”

“She might be.” His eyes narrow even more. “And what exactly are your intentions with her, young man?”

He knows not to take Phthalo too seriously. Where Omega is an outlier in terms of maturity for her age, Phthalo is at the very top of the bell curve. "We are getting dinner," he says, "though I'm not sure where. She knows the city better than I do."

A string of soap bubbles emerges from the bowl of the pipe as Phthalo blows on it. "I see, I see. And then, no doubt, followed by a trip..." He yanks the pipe from his mouth and jabs it at him. "...to Lovers' Lane?!"

Tech is now confused. He adjusts his goggles. "I... am not sure. Perhaps. Whatever she should desire. I am new to this and am following her lead."

The suspicious look melts away, replaced by surprise. His voice jumps back up to its usual pubescent timbre. "You've never been on a date?" Tech shakes his head, and Phthalo blinks. "Dang, really? Like, never ever?"

He shakes his head again. "As a member of a commando unit, I was afforded neither time nor opportunity to pursue interpersonal activities."

Phthalo whistles. “Bummer.” He pauses, then looks Tech up and down. “Gonna keep it a hundred with you: you look like an egghead.”

Tech blinks. Phthalo often uses slang that is lost on him and this is no different. “Am I correct in assuming that is a bad thing?”

“I mean, I guess, but, like, that’s her type.” He leans against the doorjamb. “Last three guys she dated were all eggheads. 'Cept Dyer. He was more of a pointy egg 'cause of the horns...”

Before Tech can even respond to that, he’s distracted by a shout.

"Phthalo!" you bark.

You skid out of the 'fresher and into view, dressed in the most beautiful blouse he's ever seen. Flowing, sunset-colored fabrics cascade down your torso, and you wear a simple pair of blue jeans that hug your hips impeccably. Your sandals have lifts, as seems to be the current style, and your painted toes peek out.

You look absolutely stunning. It's a shame you're so mad.

"What the hell are you doing?!" You pause, then squint at him. "And why are you wearing my robe?!"

Phthalo is unbothered. He lowers his voice again and blows on the pipe. "Telling this young man what I expect of him. You're a respectable young lady, and I won’t have him ruining the good name of this family.”

You spit something in your native tongue, and he replies in turn. Tech is unfamiliar with the language, but it's lilty and melodic punctuated with little pops and clicks. He's been debating purchasing a translation module, but is unsure if that would come off as an encroachment of your privacy.

You switch back into Basic. "Don't you have homework or something to be doing?"

"Joke's on you, sister. It's the weekend."

You give him a dry look as you step outside. "Just be home by dark so Mom doesn’t yell at me. And take my robe off."

“Yes ma’am.” He strikes a salute. His form is poor, but Tech keeps that to himself. "Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do," he says, “but if you do, name it--”

You close the door on him with a roll of your eyes. Finally, you turn your attention to Tech. "I am so sorry."

You pause as you see him, looking him up and down -- your gaze in particular seems to linger on his biceps. Your eyes widen slightly, and you suck in a subtle breath.

"Well, don’t you clean up nice," you say, a smile gracing your lips.

He’s suddenly aware of the heat in his cheeks. His tongue feels fat and heavy. “You too,” he says. “Er, that’s not to say that you do not always dress well. I just-- erm--”

You giggle, and it’s the most wonderful sound he’s ever heard. “C’mon, let’s bounce.”

You shoulder your purse and, before he realizes it, you’ve wrapped your arm around his and slipped your fingers into his hand. Your body presses closely to his, and he can feel every warm, soft curve from your shoulders to your hips.

Then you lay your other hand on his arm. You pause, then give a squeeze. “Oh,” you say, eyes widening.

Oddly, it’s his respiratory system that seizes up this time. His breath catches in his throat and he makes the slightest hrph noise.

He's frozen there a moment, staring at you as you stare at him. You have the most beautiful eyes. A whole load of butterflies flap around in his gut, crashing into each other and his abdominal walls. He really wishes they’d go away.

You’re the first to snap out of it, though you still seem quite stricken. Your words come out in a squeaky tumble. “Nice guns you got here.”

He’s red as a Togruta right now. He can feel it. He says the first thing that comes to mind. “Part of the genetic manipulation performed on clones is reducing the amount of visceral and subcutaneous fat necessary for metabolic processes,” he says.

The wonder in your eyes vanishes, replaced by the familiar curiosity he’s used to seeing. “Huh. So where do you store all your energy?”

Familiar territory. He remembers how to move his legs. “I am unsure of the specifics, but it has to do with mitochondria...”

---

As a clone, Tech has low standards for food. He’s perfectly content to eat ration packs three meals a day, and the food in the Tipoca City mess was only a few steps above that in quality. He’s also used to eating only enough to give him a few hours’ strength -- sometimes having to make do with even less.

So when the waiter places a sandwich half as big as his head in front of him, he’s more than a little cowed.

Fortunately, you seem to find his surprise charming. “Never had a bantha burger before?”

He lifts the topmost bun and examines the contents. Vividly-colored sauces, at least three kinds of fresh vegetables, and a thick patty of bantha beef, seared and dripping with juices.

His stomach growls like a territorial nexu. Very rarely does it do that.

“...Excuse me if I make a mess,” he says.

“Likewise,” you say, picking up your own sandwich. “I always need a pile of napkins when I come here.”

The sandwich crunches and squelches as you bite into it. Juice runs down your chin, and your lips glisten with fat. Setting it back down, you take a napkin and swipe it along your mouth. It’s a wonder how that lipstick is staying on.

You let out a contented hum as you swallow. “Stars, I’ve been craving one of these all week,” you say.

He takes a deep breath. Carefully, he picks the sandwich up and takes a bite.

Soft bread. Crispy greens. Tangy sauce. Sour pickles. Fatty, juicy meat. It overwhelms his palate. As he chews, it all blends together into a melodious symphony of texture and flavor.

He swallows and has to take a moment to compose himself. He notices you staring, brows raised and your lips pursed.

“Told you it was good,” you say.

His cheeks burn. He swipes a napkin across his mouth. “I am very unused to this type of meal,” he says. “My apologies.”

“I refuse to accept them,” you say. You slide over the little paper tray of unsnips, sliced into matchsticks and fried golden brown, and a little cup of sauce. “Try this next. Dip it in the pink stuff.”

He does so. It’s fatty and starchy and salty and the sauce is the same tangy stuff as what was in the sandwich. He’s picked up a second one before he’s even conscious of it.

You giggle as you pick one up for yourself. “I like dunking mine in my milkshake,” you say as you dip it into your drink. “The milk cuts the... the greasy feeling a bit.”

“Unctuous,” he says. You raise a brow. “The technical term for something being oily.”

You glance at the unsnip, then purse your lips and nod your head. “It cuts the unctuous feeling,” you say with a wiggle of your head.

His stomach flips. His heart beats faster. Say something. Anything. “Fat is one of the flavors a Humanoid tongue can detect, in addition to the more well-known sweet and salty.”

You take an unsnip and dip it into your teaberry milkshake, then place it in your mouth. “It’s sweet, salty, sour, bitter, and savory, right?”

“Correct. And you did not include spice, which is also correct.”

You smile and wave your hand. “I paid attention in bio,” you say. “It’s pain receptors, not taste buds.”

He nods. “Mint produces a similar effect, albeit in the opposite direction.”

“Now that I didn’t know.” You rest your hand on your chin and smile at him. “Tell me more, professor.”

His heart jumps into his throat and he almost chokes on the unsnip he was swallowing. He’s unused to such curiosity being directed at him. And especially not by such a pretty woman.

It feels fantastic.

His mind races. He could tell you more about taste -- the stinger of a Yalbec queen tastes like browned sage butter, allegedly. Or how bitterness is a common characteristic of compounds poisonous to Humanoids, hence why it’s not a popular flavor -- and why Humanoids don’t typically find Toydarian cuisine appetizing. Or maybe you’d like to hear about the anesthetic qualities of capsaicin, something Wrecker found out the hard way when he accidentally got a mouthful of bacta.

You’d likely find that amusing. He reaches up to adjust his goggles...

...and smears grease all over the lens. Damn.

You wince. "Oops. Need a napkin?"

He sighs, inwardly cursing himself. Idiot. "Please," he says. He pulls them from his head, smearing everything around.

You hand him a napkin and he gets to scrubbing. He has to hold them close to his face to see his progress. It only really seems to smear things around, but it slowly begins to improve.

"Astigmatism?" you ask. "Or just blind as an ashbat?"

"One begets the other." He huffs. "Would you hand me another napkin?"

"I'll go grab some more," you say, standing up. But before you depart, you lean down to peer at him. "Huh."

He raises a brow at you. "What?"

"Nothing, just..." You pause. "Not used to seeing you without them."

"Do they affect my appearance that much?" he asks.

You shrug. "I mean, you look good either way," you say as you turn away.

Heat rises in his cheeks. He looks up to respond, but you’re already walking away. 

He can barely see, but what he can see, he likes. You’re on the softer side and carry most of your weight in your hips, giving them a gentle plumpness. He’s noticed it before, but perhaps the blue jeans accentuate your figure just so.

Something... base pools in his groin. He wants to grab it and touch it and squeeze it. Your thighs, too. Oh, and your breasts...

He swallows and shakes his head. Dangerous thoughts. He returns his attention to his goggles.

As he looks up, he’s met with a concerning sight.

A burly figure is following you back to the booth. He can't see your face, but your crossed arms and stiff posture betray your agitation. You don’t look scared, but you grow tenser with each word he says.

“...I still got some of your modeling stuff,” the man says as you slide into your seat. “I could drop it off sometime.”

“Keep it,” you say tersely. You place the napkins on the table and Tech takes one.

He ignores Tech. “You spent so much on that plastoid, though.” He goes to touch one of your braids, but you push his hand away. “Be a shame for it to go to waste.”

“I’m not telling you where I live,” you snap. You turn to face him, brows furrowed into a glare. “Now put an egg in your shoe and beat it. I'm on a date.”

The man's body language shifts. He straightens up, his jaw setting. His shoulders tense as he turns to Tech.

Tech places his goggles back on his head and everything becomes clear. You scowl and roll your eyes as the man -- a Zabrak, it seems -- looks Tech up and down with a raised brow.

Finally, he sneers. “You got terrible taste in men,” he says to you.

“Yeah, well, I dated you, so I already knew that,” you say curtly. You punctuate the insult with a sip of your milkshake.

So this is that ex partner of yours Phthalo mentioned. Dyer, he recalls. Wonderful.

Dyer tenses again. He balls his fist. “Seriously, you dump me because you want someone more stylish, and then turn around and take this guy out?"

You hit the table with your fist and jump to your feet, jamming your finger into Dyer’s chest. "I dumped you because you slapped me for being 'mouthy,'" you spit.

Tech isn't prone to strong emotions, but the disgust rising in his throat is impossible to ignore.

"An expected response from someone of his personality," he says. "Good idea to terminate the relationship."

Dyer snaps his head back towards him. "'Scuse me?"

He adjusts his goggles as he stands. "Based on your proclivity to violence and attempt to insult me, I can only conclude that you are insecure in your masculinity."

Dyer gives him a stare that is equally bemused and icy. "...what?"

"Your behavior is typical for an insecure male. Perhaps you’re compensating for something.”

You make a snrrk noise and clap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to not laugh. The fact you’re not scared brings him some relief.

Dyer doesn’t say a word, rage simmering behind his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he snatches your milkshake from your hand, removes the cover, and splashes it onto Tech’s shirt.

And now, along with disgust, there’s ire rising in his throat. Sour, petty ire.

“What the hell?!” you shriek. You grab his arm and, this time, you don’t pause to appreciate the musculature. “C’mon, we don’t have to take this--”

He waves you off. “I appreciate it, but I can handle myself.” He crosses his arms. “He is not a threat to me.”

Dyer scoffs. He steps closer to Tech, enough that their chests touch. “You wanna make a bet on that?”

Tech takes a step back. Dyer follows. “If you’re looking for a fight, look elsewhere. I have no desire to injure you.”

With his thumb, Dyer cracks his knuckles. “Yeah, but I do.”

He takes another step. Again, Dyer follows. “As I stated previously, you are clearly attempting to compensate for something. An undersized phallus, perhaps.”

A number of things happen at once. Dyer swings. Tech ducks to the side. Grabbing his arm, he uses the other man’s momentum to swing him to the side, sending him careening into an occupied table. It collapses beneath him, and a shower of sandwiches and milkshakes rain upon his head.

Satisfied, he turns his attention back to you. “My apologies for that.”

“Meh. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” you say with a wave of your hand. You look at the waiter who has just emerged from the kitchen. “Can we get a doggie bag over here?”

---

Showers are nice. Hot showers are even better. Private hot showers in a crystal clean ‘fresher with Nubian Sunrise-scented soaps and fluffy purple towels are a luxury that Tech has never experienced.

He wishes he hadn’t. Nothing will ever be as good as this.

You'd insisted that he return with you to your apartment so you could wash his clothes and get him clean. Dyer's your ex and you feel the need to take some responsibility.

“My building’s got a laundry room anyways, so it’s no big deal,” you’d said. “So hop in the shower before you get sticky. Toss your clothes out the door and I’ll grab ‘em.”

He goes as quickly as he can, but even then he worries that he’s taken too long. He sees no change of clothes, so he settles for wrapping the towel around his waist.

He calls your name as he exits the ‘fresher, but you’re nowhere to be seen. Not on your bed, nor on your sofa, nor at your drafting table. You live in a studio, so it’s not like there’s anywhere else you could be hiding.

Time for reconnaissance. Or, as Echo would call it, incessant snooping.

He’s subtle about it. He only looks closely at things that aren’t already hidden, and he doesn’t move anything around in any drawers or cabinets.

He gleans a few insights about you. A holopic on your desk depicts you in a graduation cap, standing between a pair of older men and a pair of older women, all beaming. Your parents and grandparents, most likely. Phthalo likely took the picture, given his absence.

You have an impressive collection of sound slugs of all varieties. Quenk jazz, glimmik, even a compilation of Mon Calamari ballet suites. But most of them are knuff records -- the sleeve of the slug currently in your player is Too Much Is Never E’knuffadelic by a group called, fittingly, Knuffadelic.

But most intriguing are the little model ships everywhere.  There’s a Venator sitting on top of your refrigerator and a little corvette on top of your stereo, amongst other ships and places. On your caf table even appears to be a very familiar Omicron-class attack shuttle, complete with modifications. The craftsmanship is careful and particular, and the only thing it needs is a coat of paint.

He’s making a note to himself to check the type of paint they used on the Marauder when the door opens. He hears the clop of your sandals before he sees you. “Sorry that took so long,” you shout. “The washing machine ate my creds, so I had to call the super to get it fixed.”

You go quiet, and he looks up at you. Your eyes are huge and your mouth dropped open. Your gaze wanders all over his body. Of particular interest seems to be, once again, his arms.

“Welcome back,” he says simply. He points to the mini Marauder. “Did you make this?”

“I-- gyeh-- yes,” you say without taking your eyes off of his arms.

"The craftsmanship is remarkable. I look forward to seeing it finished." He pauses. "I must say, your preoccupation with my biceps is fascinating.”

You sputter a bit before finding your words. "You're just-- You’ve always got all that armor on and--” You take a deep breath. “I had no idea you were so... toned."

Huh. Interesting. He's always considered himself leaner than his brothers, but that may just be the fact that everyone looks small next to Wrecker. He gives his arm a bend, watching the muscle flex. "I suppose I am."

Your eyes continue sweeping him. "...You got nice shoulders, too. And pecs. And abs. You're just..." Your gaze creeps back up to meet his own. “Can I... touch you?”

He's not sure what starts the smolder in his belly. It might be the fire in your eyes, or your teeth biting your lip, or the way you run the pad of your thumb along your fingernails.

But he likes it. He likes it a lot.

“You may,” he says quietly.

Your breath catches. He worries you might sputter again, but you don’t. Stepping close, you lay your palms on his collarbone. Your hands are warm and soft, and the way you slide your fingertips along his skin makes him shiver.

The smolder catches fire, filling his chest with smoke and his groin with heat. He fights to keep his breathing even and, to keep his cock from springing upwards, grips the towel around his waist tightly.

You step closer, your breasts just barely touching his chest, as you move your touch down to his pectorals. You linger on the scars there, pale and puckered. He remembers every one: shrapnel from a grenade on Ando. A sniper round meant for Hunter on Yephus. Electric shock from a zap skate on Mon Cala.

Unfortunately, you stop on the one he’s actually embarrassed by. He cuts you off before you can ask the question. “Accidentally stabbed myself during a training exercise,” he says. “Not my finest moment.”

You giggle, scrunching your eyes into little half-moons. “And here I was starting to think that you were perfect.”

His cock twitches. Hard. A breathy grunt escapes him as it pokes your thighs.

Based on the way your brows rise, you noticed. Your cheeks darken as you glance down, chest falling and rising faster than before.

You trail your fingers downwards, tracing the valley between his abdominal muscles. Thank the Maker he's not ticklish.

You stop at the edge of the towel. Your gaze flickers up to his, an unspoken question on your lips.

He's used to being naked in front of other people. But the prospect of suddenly being exposed to you gives him pause. The self doubt starts up again. What if you don't like it? What if he doesn't measure up? What if--?

He releases the towel before he can talk himself out of it.

He's not fully hard. But he's getting there. Freed from its constraint, his cock bobs and twitches. The smooth head shines in the light.

You suck in a breath. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips. He knows what you're feeling, but a combination of ego and insecurity makes him ask.

"Am I... adequate?" he rasps.

Your answer comes in the form of grabbing his cock at the base and pumping. He covers his mouth with his hand in an attempt to stifle a groan. He fails.

You freeze and release him. "I'm sorry," you say quickly. "I'll stop."

He speaks with a voice that isn't his, hoarse and husky and full of desperation. "Don't. Please."

You stare at him, breathing heavily. "What do you want me to do?" you whisper.

He swallows. "Whatever you like."

It's like flipping a switch. Your unease evaporates and you push him backwards until he hits your sofa. His hands go to your waist as you straddle him, your mouth pressing against his.

This kiss isn’t like the first one he'd shared with you. That one was innocent and misty as a Nabooian spring morning. But this one... This one is the height of a rainy summer noontime. Hot. Steamy. Desperate.

His tongue dances with yours, first this way and then that. You lay your hands on his jaw as you give his lips a nip. Grinding into his lap, you press your plush pelvis against his hard cock.

“I want you,” you whisper. “I really, really want you.”

Sweet stars, he wants you to. He tries to tell you as much, but all that comes out is a tight groan.

You grab the hem of your blouse, yanking it up over your head. You’re not particularly buxom, but your breasts are soft and round as they fill your brassiere, and they jiggle as you toss the blouse to the floor.

Every movement sends a slight ripple through them. Hypnotized, he reaches up to touch them. They fill his hands wonderfully, and they give when he squeezes.

You let out a sweet coo as he kneads them. “Like what you see?” you breathe. He nods, too dumbstruck to speak. “Wanna see the rest?”

No need to ask twice. He reaches behind you to unlatch the hooks and the fabric falls away, revealing two dark areolas with stiffened peaks.

As if his cock couldn’t get any harder. One could cut ur-diamonds with it now.

Wrapping his arms around you, he bucks up into you with a groan. He’s barely able to resist the urge to shove his face between your breasts. He can’t imagine his goggles would feel good pressing into you like that.

...and then you grab the back of his head and shove him in there anyways.

Warm. Soft. Smells nice. Even better than he expected. His cock leaks against you, dampening your pants.

He tries to apologize, but you put a finger to his lips before you shimmy your blue jeans off. He’s expecting to see underwear, but you either aren’t wearing any or managed to get them off with your pants. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know because right now he’s looking at your pussy.

He knows what humanoid female anatomy looks like. But somehow the real thing is even better than the textbooks, the pictures, the holos he watches when no one else is around.

You keep yourself untrimmed and unruly, but the outline of your slit is visible. You reach down to part your lower lips and he catches a glimpse of the flushed flesh between.

He wastes no time. He holds his cock steady while you lower yourself onto it.

Tech has never had sex. He's not embarrassed by it. It is what it is. There was no time or opportunity for interpersonal relationships, and he's not one for a fling.

He assumed it was just a step up from masturbating. Stimulation leading to orgasm. 

He was wrong. It's a feast for the senses.

Your pussy is hot and wet, making obscene noises as you bounce up and down. With a flex of your muscles, you clench him tight, enveloping his cock in smooth, warm heat. 

"Holy Maker, finally," you moan.

The sheer implication of that phrase makes him groan. He's unused to being desired. Grabbing your soft hips, he guides you up and down his cock.

Bracing one hand against the back of the sofa, you dip the other between your curls. You rub as he thrusts, making noises like a tooka.

In out, up and down. The cool air as you rise and the wet heat as you fall. The bounce of your breasts and the roll of your hips.

He never wants to leave this moment. Buried deep inside of you, your eyes closed in bliss and your lips pursed in pleasure.

Head falling back, he moans your name, long and loud. You return the compliment, pressing your mouth to his ear and drawing one syllable into two.

His chest heats up. His cock tightens. He thinks he might faint. “G-Gonna...”

You pull away to rest your forehead on his, looking into his eyes. Your pupils reduce your irises to thin rings. “Hold on,” you huff. “Almost...”

He bites the inside of his cheek until he feels your pussy pulse. You let out a whine and he can't hold it anymore. He whimpers your name, sounding absolutely pathetic.

“Please,” he rasps.

You grab him by the hair and jerk his head away to kiss him. The panting has left your mouth cool and dry, and the sudden contrast is enough to send him toppling over the edge.

He comes with a sputtering groan, his hips bucking upwards. Sparks flash behind his eyes and he shoves his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. You smell like musk and fresh sweat.

Heaven, in other words.

The moment passes all too quickly. The adrenalin fades and his body goes limp. He slumps backwards, panting.

You collapse to the side, sliding off of his cock with a wet shlick. You lift his arm and drape it over you, resting your head on his shoulder.

He lays his head against yours, his mind pleasantly fuzzy. Thoughts drift in and out -- mostly of you. He wonders if you enjoyed it.

He understands now why it's called an afterglow.

---

Once his clothes are clean, you accompany him back to the Marauder. Wrecker appears to be teaching Omega something ship-related, as she is sitting atop his shoulders to examine a fusebox. Hunter and Echo look on, mildly concerned but not enough to interfere.

Hunter turns as soon as your footsteps start echoing on the walls. He breaks into a grin. "Lovebirds are here," he calls.

Omega gasps and jumps from Wrecker's shoulders, landing in a way that had to have hurt her ankles. She speeds up to you nonetheless.

"How'd it go?" she asks. "Where'd you go? What'd you do? How--?"

You return the smile. "It was great," you say. You lay your head against his arm. "We got food and then he beat a guy up for me."

Tech scoffs. "I did not. He ran at me and I used his momentum against him."

You shrug. "Regardless, it was appreciated," you say. "I have work in the morning, so I gotta get going."

Omega's face falls. "Will you be around tomorrow?"

He adjusts his goggles. "That depends on if Cid has any tasks for us--"

Wrecker cuts in. "'Course she can come 'round," he says firmly. "It's not like it always takes all day."

Tech shoots him a look. "No, but accounting for hyperspace time dilation, we often return at odd hours."

You wave your hand. "I'll make time. Just give me a comm when you're free." you say. You take his arm and pull him down, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

It catches him by surprise, and he lets out a slight gasp. He sincerely hopes no one else heard it.

Against his cheek, you murmur something in your native tongue before pulling away. You ruffle Omega's hair and wave to his brothers before departing.

As he watches you walk away, an unfamiliar feeling sets in. It fills his head and pushes against his eyes, making his cheeks warm. It's not sorrow. He has no desire to cry, but... He wishes you could stay a bit longer. Play some of that knuff music and talk about starships while you 'hang out,' as Phthalo would put it.

You round the corner out of sight and he misses you already. Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

Inhaling deeply, he turns away to find everyone looking at him. Hunter with a smirk, Echo with a slight smile, Wrecker with a broad grin, and Omega beaming so wide that her eyes are nearly closed.

Tech glances between all of them. "Is something amusing?"

Echo shakes his head. "Didn't think it was possible for you to look cute." 

Wrecker punches Tech's shoulder and, as per usual, nearly knocks him over. "Lucky you, gettin' a girl so pretty."

"So what was it like?" Omega asks. "Where'd you go? Tell me everything!"

Hunter cuts in. "Hey, let him get settled. He's had a big day. Fix up that fusebox and then ask questions."

Wrecker and Omega try to protest, but one look from Hunter and they slumps. They slink away, back to their task.

Once they're out of earshot, Hunter sidles up to him. "Hop in the shower after you get on board," he murmurs. Tech raises a brow at him, wondering if he can smell your sweat on him. "You smell like shampoo and it's giving me a headache."

Tech blinks in relief. "Of course. My apologies."

He turns away, only for Hunter to speak up again. "Congratulations on getting laid, too."

Tech's cheeks burn.

---

Thank you for reading! Special thanks to my bf for proofreading.

⬅⬅⬅ | "Filled With Things to Say" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[karionice]

Red-Handed

Word Count: ~1.7k

Pairing: ceo super villain!dokyeom / lee seokmin x assassin!reader (gender neutral)

Genres: sci-fi au, tech empire au, non-idol au, clandestine au, one-shot

Warnings: spicy cuz i see u squinting (no smut tho sorry), drama, crying, slight angst, a swear word, mean dom dk, self-loathing, reader can't move or talk, blindfolded for a bit too, reader and dk are about the same age, mentions of other svt members

"Hey boss, we just apprehended someone trying to infiltrate the headquarters. We found an earpiece from DN on them?"

"...Bring them to me."

How stupid, you thought to yourself. Never in your life had you been so humiliatingly gotten caught on a job. Not only that, but this was also the most important one you'd ever been given.

Yet there you were - in the lair of the city's worst criminal mastermind blindfolded, disarmed, tied up, and being carried like a prisoner by two of your target's heavily armed guards.

You had been told to take down the man in question, Lee Seokmin, undetected then steal precious data from the DK Tower control room before reporting back to base.

He was singlehandedly the biggest thorn in the regime's side - corrupt enough to be trouble and rich enough to stay out of it. His fortune came from his inventions and cunning schemes being sold to underground organizations that wreak havoc with the governing body. His notoriety came from all that wrapped in an enigmatic backstory.

Many have variously tried to kill or capture Seokmin in the past but failed miserably, most of whom never to be seen again. So you were already uncertain when someone more qualified wasn't picked over you. They said it would be okay; you'd be in touch through an earpiece, a tiny camera, you'd have weapons designed to be quiet, you're trained to defend yourself, etc.

Now all of the items that could help you had been taken away and your confidence was fully depleted. As you moved, an arm under each of yours, you were criticizing yourself more and more with each step until finally you took a breath.

No Y/N, you can't give up now. Sure you're as good as dead, you heard the guard. But you know how to put up a fight. If you're lucky, you could even finish your mission.

After what felt like forever and stairs, you heard the sound of a buzzer, a scanner, voice check...parts of an extensive identification system Seokmin himself must have made. After a sound of confirmation, more new sound effects were heard as what sounded like a very secure door opened. Only one guard brought you in.

Even though you were still blindfolded, you could already feel Seokmin's intense gaze on you. You noted how the room smelled like apples - A smell that had never before seemed more sickly.

The guard put you down on the floor, making a single tear come out of one of your eyes. Usually you kept all of your disciplined feelings in check during a mission but today, that had all gone out the window the moment you'd been caught and outnumbered.

Hearing Seokmin's voice for the first time so close by made you jolt involuntarily. "Where did you find them?"

"A security cam spotted something suspicious on the second floor so we had a mini drone scan the vents."

...Mini drone?

"We tracked them, gathered personnel in a room they would pass, then cracked the ceiling underneath them. Now here they are and here's what we got off them, all deactivated."

You heard the sound of a heavy bag being caught across the room and some rummaging. After a moment, you heard Seokmin's voice again.

"Leave us."

Fuck.

You heard footsteps going behind you, the large door closing and locking, then silence.

You squirmed at the sound of Seokmin getting up from his chair and walking towards you. Another tear leaked out as he somewhat gently pulled your blindfold off.

You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting quickly to the refined lighting. Then they widened with shock. If you could have gasped you would have.

As far as you knew, no one had ever gotten anywhere near this close to Lee Seokmin on a mission before, nevermind face to face in his central office. You hated yourself for immediately thinking how the photos you'd been given of the man did not at all do him justice. It sucked for you to admit it in such a position, but Lee Seokmin was beyond the definition of handsome.

"How scandalous..." Seokmin tutted. He put his hands in his pockets, the blindfold sticking out one of them. "Alone in my office...with someone bound and gagged."

He backed up and leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk so that he could really look down at you, chin up. It was like your brain shut down, forgetting all about the mission you were so focused on two minutes ago. The smirk on his face should have also been listed as one of his crimes.

As the gleam in his eyes only grew more wicked, you couldn't help but think that perhaps in another world, a different light in his eyes would make him look kinder, more playful, maybe even loving...

"You poor thing~" Watching his god-like face speak with that mockingly sweet voice was not good for your traitorous heart. "How embarrassing it must have been for you, falling from the ceiling? You came all this way to see me...sincerely, my dear, I'm flattered."

You winced at the memory, then cursed yourself for doing so - all he could see was your eyes and form. Now Seokmin could confirm you were ignoring a lot of pain. He knelt down to brush your hair out of your face, catching you off guard with the gesture then chuckled in a way that made you squirm again. "You can't hide a thing from me, sweetheart. It's just me and you."

You couldn't spit at him so you just let the tears roll and turned your head away. Seokmin tsked and walked back to his desk, leaving you on the floor to take in your surroundings better.

Seokmin's office was high-tech like you'd predicted, but aside from that it was almost normal looking. The windows had red blinds, the ceiling had fancy square lights, and the desk was smooth wood. The carpet you'd been sweating on this whole time had a dark, minimalist pattern. There was even a coffee maker Shubot behind Seokmin's desk.

"Cute, isn't it?" Seokmin smiled, startling you for the umpteenth time. "I've designed my own coffee machines before but no one's is quite as intuitive as Shua's. In fact, a lot of my everyday devices are from Hong Co., but it's such a hassle having to buy under a different name."

Before you could think about how incredulous his contrast in character was from five minutes ago to now, Seokmin suddenly spilled the contents of the bag of your things onto his desk.

"Speaking of tech by the way, compliments to your boss," Seokmin said, inspecting your earpiece keenly. He looked...fondly at the DN Enterprises logo shining in the light. "These gadgets are looking good. Lots of improvement since the last assassin. Looks like my brother's been working hard."

Wait... improvement?? Brother???

The look of realization in your eyes made Seokmin grin even wider, but this time it didn't meet his eyes.

"Chan outdoes himself trying to find me so often, he has no idea how much I love it. It makes me so proud watching him grow as a leader, a scientist...Unfortunately for him, I've always been at least one step ahead. But it helps, I can continue to track his progress from afar like this until we're both finally ready."

So he's not trying to take over the government one day, you pondered. He's waiting for it to match him.

Suddenly everything made sense. Chan's names, the secrecy, his obsession with the city's tech empires, his sadness and...why you'd been sent on a fool's errand alone. Why almost no one who'd ever stepped foot in this building came back.

You realized then and there with a silent whimper that you were never going home. You probably were never meant to and even if you did, the next person sent on this mission would get much closer to succeeding and Seokmin doesn't want that.

"It's such a shame that he's persisted sending these attached to so many mercenaries...I've had to get creative with my disposal methods, it's a waste to damage my brother's work. However..."

Seokmin then pushed away from his desk and removed his jacket, smiling wickedly again at you. Your eyes widened as you abruptly remembered you still hadn't found an escape route that'd be fast enough.

"...I've never actually kept one of his contracts around before, nevermind let them in here. But after seeing your pretty face on my screen I just couldn't help myself."

A chill went up your spine as you watched Seokmin roll up his sleeves and loosen his tie, glinting eyes never leaving yours.

Your fighting instincts finally found themselves again and kicked in. You struggled and rolled around, trying to get away and was able to get your arms unbound from your torso, only for Seokmin to push you against the wall in record speed, a hand around your wrists.

"Not so fast, darling," He whispered deeply with a menacing grin. He used his free hand to untie the cloth around your mouth, making you gasp for air. He then made it hard for you to breathe again by pressing his body completely against yours, one knee between your legs. "You can't win against someone who was trained the same way as you."

Not wanting to give up yet, you forced yourself to meet his eyes. You felt your throat go dry when you saw how much darker they were now than earlier.

"I can see you're a tough one, sweetheart. I like it when I can take my time with someone." The feeling of Seokmin's breath on your skin made you shiver. You were realizing too late how much strength you've lost to fight your body's reactions and now it was being conflicted over his touch.

"I know you want me...I can still see it buried beneath the fear in your eyes."

You struggled again as Seokmin gently rubbed away fresh tears. He then used the same hand to leisurely unbutton the top of his shirt, revealing more of his perfectly smooth skin. It was becoming more and more difficult to not think about how much heat was radiating off of his body, how you could feel the flex of many muscles.

"Don't you worry my dear, I'll take good care of you..." He stroked down your neck with the back of his free hand, making you flinch when you felt the metal of his rings touch your skin.

"Very good care of you."

a/n: mwahahahaha...man I need a lot of therapy

srsly tho my smartwatch said my heartrate was really high after finishing this one whoops TvT

Hope you enjoyed though! ;))

August 2023 edit: Check out my Joshua fic from this same universe here if you'd like!

[s-trawberryv-eins]

A Poorly Kept Secret

NOT MY GIF

Prompt: Fake not dating for @lets-hargrooves writing challenge!

Summary: The plan was to keep it secret a little longer. Sam has other ideas.

Warnings: Violence, injury, angst.

A/N: My terrible and LATE entry for the Valentines Day Writing Challenge. My prompt was fake not dating. I kinda strayed but I think (?) it still counts! It’s absolute trash, it’s sh*t, don’t waste your time! Hasn’t been proofread, try not to throw up when you read it!

Bucky Barnes x reader

Avengers x reader

Word count: 2839

Masterlist

“Good evening Agent, Sergeant.” As Y/N and Bucky strolled into the empty common room hand in hand, the were immediately greeted by FRIDAY. “You’re both required upstairs straight away.”

Sharing a look of confusion, the pair headed straight to the elevator with a shrug. As they waited, Barnes realised he really didn’t want to let go of the girls hand. Tonight had been their third date, and his feelings for his teammate had grown quickly.

“I wish we coulda stayed out longer.” Y/N smiled at his confession, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

“Me too. But I’m gonna run the risk of assuming we’d both be up for another date, so I’m not gonna cry too hard about it.” The smile on her face made her cheeks ache, but she relished in the feeling. Taking a step closer to the soldier, she kept her eyes on his, staring up through thick black lashes.

“I would 100%, most definitely be up for another date, Miss Y/L/N. In fact, I insist upon it.” Barnes’ words had her blushing again, and she subconsciously scolded herself for falling for the man so quickly.

“I’ll make the reservations.” Bucky left no room for disagreement but found she didn’t mind so long as they were going out again.

“Where?”

“I’m not telling.” And then her lips were on his and she swore she’d never felt anything like it before. Soft and hot, seared into her brain for the rest of time and thank god because to forget this would be to commit a crime punishable by death. Bucky’s hand that held her own was pressed against her back, holding her ever closer. His other hand rested at the base of her neck as he ran his thumb over her flushed cheek.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but it was most definitely their first kiss. And as they separated, breathless and surprised by Y/N sudden initiation of the intimacy, they stayed close; foreheads resting against each other, hands still entwined. As if the universe had been looking down on them, the elevator doors opened not a second too soon, allowing them to have their moment in peace.

-

After no less than fifteen minutes in the board room, the team was fully briefed and boarding the Quinjet, headed for the Appalachian Mountains. Tasks and objectives had been delegated, and everybody knew their roles.

“Hey Y/N? Where were you tonight?” Natasha and Y/N had planned to train together, but the latter had bailed after making plans with Bucky.

“Oh. I was on a date, actually. Some loser I met on my run this morning. Definitely won’t be seeing him again.” Scrunching her nose up in faux disgust, Natasha laughed and went to sit with the girl to press for details. The lie came easily enough; she was rather gifted in the field of espionage after all.

Something in Bucky’s chest sank a little at her words. It’d been his idea to keep it between the two of them, but it wasn’t pleasant. When Sam approached, it only made matters worse.

“Why the sour face? You mad cos people here can actually get dates? Ha. I’ll set you up Barnes!” Trying his best to tune his friend out, Bucky made himself comfortable. It was going to be a long flight.

-

After three days, the Winter Solider was becoming increasingly frustrated with the current state of affairs. Barnes and Barton had been paired up and given the job of the eyes in the sky. The site they were aiming to infiltrate and take down was located on the east side of the mountain range. Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier were to keep an eye out, and slowly dispose of the guards who stood around the perimeter.

The facility was expecting two ‘specialists’ to arrive from England. After the team had located the expected, they grabbed them before they’d made their presence known. Upon learning that the facility did not know what they looked like, only their names, Y/N and Sam had volunteered to go under cover; Bucky wasn’t happy, but he was even more unhappy that he couldn’t really protest.

The rest of the team were to infiltrate the site and free the hostages being held there for human experimentation, before taking the whole thing to pieces.

The only problem was, this couldn’t be an in and out mission. It relied heavily on Falcon and Y/C/N disabling the surprisingly high-tech security system.  In order to stand a chance, they had to be trusted enough to be left alone - an unlikely feat.

“Romanoff,” Barnes’ watchful eye spotted two guards approaching from the right, a blind spot the redheaded assassin was working around. “3 ‘o’ clock.” With his eye trained perfectly on the scope of his weapon, he offered a countdown for Black Widow to position herself accordingly.

“In 3...2…” In the space of a second, Natasha had cleared the space, Bucky had fired, and his targets were down. Clockwork.

A thankyou from Natasha and she was back to work. 

“If everything’s gone to schedule, we should be clear for entry in 3 minutes. If not, we’ve got trouble and we need to get those two out of here.” 

An arrow fired, narrowly missing the Captain as it soared through the air and pierced the jugular of an approaching target. Steve’s eyes tracked the path of the arrow, scowling when they landed on the man who let it fly.

“Nearly had my eye out, Barton.”

But with a soft smirk and a tilt of the head, the marksman replied “no chance, Cap. I never miss!”

“If you’ve done flirting, shall we?” Tony’s voice rang out, summoning those on ground level to the rendezvous point. As they approached, Steve stood forward, waiting for Tony’s signal to attempt entrance. The blond reached for the door but jumped back into a defensive stance when the buzzer sounded, and the door seemed to open by itself.

Everyone readied for a fight, unsure of what they’d find waiting for them behind the large steel contraption when a voice crackled through.

“I’m sorry guys. We were made.”

-

The doors peeled open, loud and creaking, adding to the tension that stood in the moment. Two guards stepped into the light, one gripping Y/N by her neck and the other Sam. It was clear that they’d not lasted long in the facility by the way the bruising had coloured on their faces. Yellowing already, it was proof that their friends had been suffering several days.

Bucky stood breathless; unsure of how to respond to the threat in front of him, he did the only thing he felt he could. Shouldering his weapon once again, he trained it on the face of the man who held the girl he was falling for, unsure of whether she was even still breathing.

Upon watching Barnes take aim, Barton followed suit, waiting for instructions from his Captain.

“We’ve got a lock.”

“Negative! Y/L/N and Wilson could be dead before you’ve even released. Stand down.” Drawing a shaky breath, Bucky was set to follow orders when a gravelly feminine voice broke through the comms tech. 

“Do it, Bucky.” Panic bloomed in his chest, a feeling he’d never felt before.

“Do it or he will. You don’t really think they’ll let us leave alive, do you? We saw too much.” As the words left her mouth, the grip on her throat increased. Bucky couldn’t breathe. Her words were true, he knew that much. But was he really capable of shooting his teammate, of shooting Y/N?

“Stop talking or your friend dies.” Sam was hanging onto consciousness by a thread, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“South east wing has an elevator-“ Sam screwed his eyes shut as he felt the gun press into his back, and he readied himself for death.

“Bottom floor-“ the gunshots fired before anybody could blink. Y/Ns body crumpled to the ground, as did the men holding the two Avengers captive, but Sam stayed on his feet. Spinning around to assess the damage, the team snapped back into action immediately. Steve called for a medical evacuation whilst Sam located the shot the girl had suffered.

“GSW to the shoulder. She’s losing too much, she’s been...she’s been bleeding for-“ A hand came to sit on Wilson’s shoulder, gently prying him from the girl.

“Sam? Hey! You’re in shock. Let Tony take a look.” Natasha pulled Falcon along, barely flinching when he threw himself into her arms.

“Good shot, Barnes. In one side, out the other. And into that guys chest by the looks of things. You too, Hawkeye.” Tony assessed the damage before coating the bullet wound in an antibacterial spray.

The men simply nodded, but Bucky barely heard a thing for the sound of his blood thundering through his veins. 

-

“Sam, please. You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’m the one who shot her, for crying out loud.” Bucky tried to reason with his friend, who, since returning home from the mission, had buried himself in a ditch of guilt, shame, and helplessness as Y/N remained unconscious, hooked up to a range of machines in the med bay.

“You weren’t in there, Barnes! You weren’t…I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t make it.” Sam’s confession had Bucky’s heart jump up and land in his throat. He’d been gripping on to the hope the doctors had given them, and he’d been remaining laughably optimistic since they returned. But if she didn’t pull through? What would any of them do?

The Winter Soldier looked his friend up and down; Sam had been in bad shape when they wheeled him from the Quinjet, but the wounds were mostly superficial. After a round of antibiotics, a good nights sleep and a day of bed rest, he was feeling better – physically, at least. The same couldn’t be said for Y/N.

An angry infection had spread from a wound on her leg, poisoning her bloodstream and preventing her healing. Surprising, but much to Bucky’s relief, the gunshot wound had been the least of her problems when she’d returned. The infection had rendered her entirely out of action, consciousness only coming in fleeting moments before the girl slipped back into a sleepy state again.

“It’s been three days. She should be awake.” Sam’s words loomed over, hanging in the air like a threat. It had crossed Bucky’s mind, but he refused to allow himself to go there.

“Sam! Bucky! Tony wants us there; he’s got an update.” Wanda appeared out of nowhere, and vanished just as quickly, but the boys took no notice as they made their way to the med bay.

-

Upon arriving, Steve, Natasha, Clint and Tony were already there.

“Well?” Wilson took to demanding answers instantly. “Tony?”

Stark’s eyes were clouded over, seeming darker than they ever had before. “Y/N’s awake for now but-“ sucking in a breath before continuing, the team didn’t waste a second.

“I’m sorry.” Tony’s voice rang out after them, but they never heard it. Grief hit in a tidal wave, and every second felt more precious than the last.

Joining the rest of the team in Y/Ns room, Bucky felt sick to his stomach. A thousand ‘what if’s rang through his brain, a million questions that would never get answered. It seemed that the universe would never again smile down upon him, as if he’d been testing his luck even taking more than a glimpse at the girl.

“Why do you all look so miserable?” With a voice weak from dehydration, Y/N reached out to grab Sam’s hands, tugging him closer with the little strength she had. When nobody responded, she grew nervous.

“Seriously?”

“Y/N/N, we spoke to Tony…” Confusion crossed her face, brows furrowing as she tried to decipher why on earth the superheroes in front of her looked shaken to their cores. It was only after a second of thought that it clicked.

Pushing herself up into an upright position, the girl rolled her eyes before shouting the man guilty of the long faces in the room.

“TONY STOP TELLING PEOPLE I’M DYING!” A second later, it seemed to click. An exasperated sigh from Natasha and she and Clint left the room, promising to come back later on after they’d found and killed Tony. Steve pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and also took his leave to go and stop Nat from killing Tony.

“So you’re okay?” The look of shock on Wilson’s face never left, despite the sudden reassurance that she wasn’t in fact dying.

“Bucky, help me up a sec?” Pushing the covers away from her body, she used the super soldier as leverage to pull herself to her feet. Turning away from him, the girl leaned on him for support, her back pressed against his chest as if to reassure them both at the same time. Bucky sighed as she leaned into him, grateful to be close to her again, even if it wasn’t quite as close as he wanted to be.

Dressed only in cotton shorts and a hoodie, her legs were bare.

“Look, Sammy. It’s a little sore, but it’s better. See?” Gesturing to the hot pink jagged scar that trailed down her thigh, she waited for Sam to settle.

“And-…and the bullet wound?” A smile danced on her lips as he slowly started to believe her.

“Bucky’s a real good shot, Sam. Didn’t hit anything important, and it’s healing real good. Just a few bruises.” Sam stayed silent; arms unsettled at his sides, gaze stuck on the floor. Y/N sensed his unease, and after squeezing Bucky’s hand firmly, she let go of him. On wobbly legs, she made her way over to her shaken friend, and pulled him in for a firm hug.

“I’m okay. You’re okay. Tony did a mean thing and I’m sorry. You protected me, Sam. They’d have done so much worse if you hadn’t stopped them. You saved me, Sammy.” As if a light bulb came on, the hug was suddenly returned tenfold.

After almost a full minute, Wilson pulled away, a determined look in his eye.

“You’re okay. I’m gonna go kill Tony too. Just in case he isn’t dead enough already.” With a sad smile and a reassuring nod, Sam left the room, leaving Y/N and Bucky alone.

“You promise? You swear to me right now that you’re okay?” The soldiers resolve melted away entirely, and with too large strides forward the girl was in his arms again.

“Y/N? I mean it!” The fear in his voice was prominent, and it took Y/N by surprise. Nodding despite herself, she fought to reassure another one of her teammates that she was healing well.

“Bucky? Look at me, Buck.” Taking his face in her hands, the look in his eyes broke her heart completely. The icy blue was clouded with fear, with the sadness that he was struggling to let go of.

“Bucky, darling? I’m alright. I’m worn out, and I’m in a bit of pain, but I am okay. I swear to you-“

He was the one kissing her this time, and it frightened her how good it felt. Urgent and wanted for far too long, Bucky seemed to pour everything he had into the kiss. But then he pulled away frantically, as if something had burned him.

“I SHOT YOU! What the fuck?” The shock on Y/Ns face dissolved into a fit of giggles as the Winter Soldier stood wide eyed before her.

“We’ve been on three dates, and then I shot you. Oh God.” The giggling continued until a loud gasp sounded from the doorway. Spinning around, her jaw dropped open to see that Sam had returned midway through their conversation.

“YOU’VE BEEN ON THREE WHAT”

“Sam…” The warning tone in Bucky’s voice did nothing to still the obvious excitement ready to bubble over and out them both to the team.

“Sammy, we need you to keep it a secret okay? Please, please don’t tell anyone yet?” With a suspicious eye, Sam looked the pair up and down.

“Okay! I hate you! Fine!” Storming out of the room, Falcon marched off down the hallway, a string of curses leaving his mouth as he did so, earning a belly laugh from Barnes.

Grabbing Bucky’s hands in her own, Y/N looked up to meet his eyes. “Will you sit with me a while? It gets kinda-“

“EVERYONE! BARNES AND Y/N ARE DATING.”

Fear quickly filled the girls bones, she was entirely unsure of what this meant. Would Bucky run and hide? Would he want to call it quits? Was it over?

As if sensing her unease, Barnes raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“I guess that’s that then.”

Reaching forward, he grabbed her hips and pulled her forward with a gentle force. Lips collided, a warm passion wanting to be explored. The sergeant held the girl ever closer, but the kiss softened.

No urgency, now they had all the time in the world.

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Who We Are (8)

Summary: With both your parents dead, you are sent to live with your uncle, Tony Stark. With your new friends, Peter and Ned, you investigate the people selling the alien tech weapons.

Warnings: Canon violence, language (?)

Word Count: 1052

THIS FIC WAS TRANSFERRED FROM MY WATTPAD

Chapter 8

Peter laid on a crate inside of a Damage Control deep storage vault. A bunch of webs were covering the big door in front of him.

"Should I tell Liz that I'm Spider-Man?" Peter asked the AI in his mask. He named her Karen.

"Who is Liz?" Karen asked.

"Who's Liz? She's-- She's great. She's just a girl who goes to my school. And-- Yeah, I just-- I really want to tell her, but it's kind of weird, you know? 'Hey, I'm Spider-Man.'"

"What's weird about that?"

"What if she's expecting someone like Tony Stark? Imagine how disappointed she'd be when she sees me."

"Well, if I were her, I wouldn't be disappointed at all. If she is, then maybe she isn't for you."

"(Y/N) wasn't disappointed."

"Who is (Y/N)?"

"(Y/N), she's new this year. She's really cool. Her uncle is Mr. Stark. She's really fun and smart and she has nice (e/c) eyes." Peter realized he was rambling.

"You seem to like (Y/N) too." Karen said.

"What? No, she's just a friend." Peter tried to deny.

"I noticed your heart rate rose when you were talking about (Y/N)."

"Okay, maybe." He paused. "Thanks, Karen. It's nice to have somebody to talk to. How long have we been here anyways?"

"Thirty-seven minutes." Karen replied.

Peter sat up. "What? Thirty-seven minutes? That's insane."

As Peter hacked into the system to escape, the team woke up.

~*~

"Ned, do you know where Peter is? You're his roommate." Liz asked worriedly. She was going around asking everyone if they knew where Peter was.

"No, sorry. I woke up and he wasn't there." Both you and Ned knew that he must still be off doing Spider-man things. You hoped that he wasn't hurt or dead.

"What's going on?" Mr. Harrington stepped out of his room with his bag. "Is there something wrong, Liz?"

"Peter's missing." Everyone piled into the elevator. You knew you had to calm the leader of the team, and after a night of thinking, you knew you could do it.

"Okay then, Flash you were first alternate, so you're in."

"What, so we're not going to try to find him?" Liz exclaimed. Everyone stepped out of the elevator. You pulled Liz to the side.

"You have to calm down." You said to her. "You're the captain of the team and they need you. Just calm down." Liz visibly relaxed and took a deep breath. With that you were ninety percent sure.

You watched everyone competing put their phone in a box. Then you followed Mr. Harrington to your seats. Wow, You thought sarcastically. Front row seats to watch them write an essay.

"Make sure all cellphones are turned off." The woman announced standing at a podium on stage.

~*~

Peter changed trucks and called Ned. He didn't pick up. They probably already started. Peter thought.

"It's Ned. Leave a message."

"Call me back! The glowy thing's a bomb!" He quickly called you. Please pick up. Please pick up.

Just as you were turning off your phone, Peter's name popped up. You answered, and kept your voice down.

"Where the hell are you?"

"I-I'll tell you later but I have to tell you something important."

"Phones off, (Y/N)." Mr. Harrington tapped your shoulder.

"It's Peter." You showed him your screen. He thought for a moment before nodding.

"Make it quick."

"Okay, Peter, what is it?" You bring your phone back to your ear.

"What? I just told you!"

"I was talking to Mr. Harrington."

"Okay, the glowy thing. It's a bomb."

"A bomb?"

"Yes, but it'll only go off if there's radiation."

"Okay Peter, I got it."

"All phones off please." The woman announced again.

"I gotta go. Get back soon." You hung up and shut down your phone.

~*~

Peter jumped from vehicle to vehicle, hoping that nothing bad would happen.

~*~

"We have now entered sudden death." The woman said. Everyone looked nervous. "The next correct answer wins the championship." She read out the question and after a moment of silence someone pressed their buzzer. It was Michelle. "Midtown Tech?"

Michelle answered, "Zero."

"That is correct." Everyone went crazy. "Midtown takes the championship." You all celebrated on the short walk to the Washington Monument.

"We won."

"You guys, I am so proud of you." Liz smiled.

"Told you we didn't need Peter." Flash gloated.

"Flash, you didn't answer a question."

"Taking it all in, Michelle?" Mr. Harrington asked Michelle who was looking up at the monument.

"Oh, yeah, I just- I don't want to celebrate something that was built by slaves."

"I'm sure the Washington Monument wasn't built by-" Mr. Harrington looked at a security guard who shrugged and nodded at Michelle. "Okay. Enjoy your book."

Your phone went off in your pocket. It was Peter again. Oh, shoot. The bomb. You thought worriedly.

"Peter," you answered the phone. "You missed it, we won."

"Did you tell Ned yet?"

"No, I didn't have a chance yet. Here, you talk to him." You find Ned and shove your phone into his hand. "It's Peter."

~*~

Peter heard the scuffles of the phone being passed on. "Ned! Where's the glowy thing?"

"The glowy thing? It's safe. It's in my backpack."

"Ned, listen, the glowy thing is dangerous."

"You missed the decathlon. I covered for you." Ned interrupted.

"Listen." Peter tried to say.

"We're at the Washington Monument."

"Peter, is that you?" It was Liz.

"Hey, Liz."

"Is that Liz?" Karen asked.

"Put Ned back on the phone." Peter said.

"You should tell her how you feel." Karen said.

"You flake. You are lucky we won." Liz scolded. "I want to be mad, but I'm more worried. Like, what is going on with you?"

"I have to talk to Ned. It's important." Peter begged.

"All items on the belt, please." A security guard ordered.

"Guys, where's my phone?" You looked around and saw Liz with it. "Can I have my phone back?"

"Sure, here." Liz passed your phone back.

"Peter, I have to go."

"No, no! (Y/N)! The bomb! Don't let it go through x-ray." "Yeah okay." You hung up. "Ned, where's your bag?"

"There." He pointed at his bag just disappearing through the scanner.

"Oh, no."

Everyone climbed into the elevator with a guide. Flash asked, clutching the trophy, "Can I be the one to tell Peter he's expelled?"

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - five

notes: im trying to write the far from home part but it’s just turning out so terribly! whatever, hopefully i get back in the groove soon

contains: some swearing, some violence, heights

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 3k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

"PLEASE BE SURE ALL CELLPHONES ARE TURNED OFF."

Marin watched as Ned hesitantly turned over his phone to the lady waiting outside the auditorium, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. Peter had yet to show up from his tryst from the previous night, and both her and Ned were growing increasingly worried. Marin was equally angry that he was going to miss the competition and nervous that something had happened to him. For all of the grief she gave him, Marin knew that Peter was truly loyal to his friends, and wouldn't have missed the competition if he could've helped it.

The beginning of the competition had gone by quickly—hours of Marin sitting backstage, waiting for the science portion of the event, chewing anxiously on her thumbnail and pacing incessantly.

Eventually, Marin was brought onstage for the science questions.

"What is the relation of the speed of the fluid flowing out of an orifice to the height of the fluid above the opening?" The moderator asked.

Marin pressed her buzzer immediately. "Torricelli's theorem." She squeaked out, relaxing when the moderator confirmed the correct answer. The team gave her pats on her back, and Michelle even nodded approvingly with a tilted smile.

Marin was only able to answer a few more questions, and time had blurred together as they approached their final questions. The teams were tied—the moderator announced they had entered sudden death. Marin was so nervous, her head swimming with restless nerves that she didn't register the question that was asked.

But then Michelle pressed her buzzer, and Marin sucked in a breath. "Midtown Tech?"

Michelle looked bored. "Zero."

"That is correct!"

The team erupted with cheers. Marin was the first to wrap Michelle in a hug, with Ned following. Michelle, she could tell, seemed unfazed by the victory, but smiled at their reactions nonetheless. Flash jumped out of his seat and ran across the length of the stage, whooping and hollering with delight.

"Midtown takes the championship!"

+++

It was Liz's idea to celebrate their triumph by going up in the Washington Monument. Marin was giddy with an adrenaline rush and she figured that all things considered, she would be able to handle the heights.

"Told you we didn't need Peter!" Flash was saying, waving around the championship trophy.

"Flash, you didn't answer a single question." Ned pointed out with a funny look on his face, causing Marin to snort rather embarrassingly.

Inside the lobby of the monument, while they waited to go through security, Ned pulled out his phone and dialed Peter's number. "Peter! Are you okay?" Ned whispered.

"He picked up?" Marin whisper-yelled at him, reaching for the phone.

"Don't worry, it's safe; it's in my backpack!" Ned responded, holding the phone firmly to his face so Marin couldn't grab it. He set his backpack on the conveyor belt, and while he was distracted, Marin nabbed the phone.

"Peter! Peter, what the hell—"

"—the glowy thing is dangerous!" Peter was yelling. Marin's eyes widened dramatically as she whipped around at Ned.

"'Glowy thing'?!" Marin hissed, staring daggers at Ned. "You brought it with you?!"

Marin could still hear Peter shouting when the phone was snatched out of her hands by Liz. "Peter, is that you?" She ranted at him. "You flake! You are so lucky we won. You know, I want to be mad, but I'm more worried. Like, what is going on with you?"

"Miss, all items on the belt, please." A security guard interrupted Liz, who nodded and place the phone on the conveyor belt without hanging up. Marin could only follow behind, as one-by-one, the team passed through the metal detectors and retrieved their belongings. By the time Marin had passed and reached Ned, the call was disconnected and Ned was tucking his phone into his jacket's pocket.

"What did he say?" Marin said mutedly to Ned.

"Call was already ended when I picked the phone up." He shrugged, as a tour guide corralled the Midtown team into the elevator. Flash, still holding the trophy, asked Mr. Harrington as the doors to the elevator slid shut: "Hey, Mr. Harrington, can I be the one to tell Peter he's expelled?"

Marin rolled her eyes and the elevator ascended with a jolt.

Marin wasn't paying attention as the female tour guide monotonously recited facts about the obelisk. At one point, Mr. Harrington even tried to talk to her about his ex-wife, but Marin was too busy gnawing on her lower lip to notice. She was picking at her nail when a familiar magenta glowing light caught her eye.

"Ned—" she began to say, but suddenly the light grew violently brighter until it erupted, damaging the elevator shaft's framework. The car screeched to a jerking stop.

The car rapidly filled up with smoke, briefly obscuring Marin's vision, but Ned was close enough to her for her to see him drop his bag in a panic. "Oh god," she muttered to herself. The Chitauri core detonated much like a bomb—the electromagnetic waves from the x-ray machine must've set it off. And now, they were trapped in an unstable elevator box, some five-hundred feet in the air, with a bomb. Marin just hoped it wouldn't go off again.

"Oh, my god, look at the ceiling," Flash said, voice trembling. Sure enough, a glowing ring of red had burned through the roof of the elevator.

"Just stay calm, everyone." Liz tried to soothe.

Abe whined, "Oh, we are all going to die here."

Ned looked at Marin, visibly panicked. "Can you do anything?" He whispered in her ear.

Marin reached to her side, where her water bottle would be—but it wasn't there. Then she remembered she'd left it on her nightstand, figuring that she wouldn't have needed it, as she assumed they would have provided bottles of water at the competition if she ever got thirsty. She didn't even consider the possibility that she'd need to use her powers. "Shit," she cursed weakly. "I don't have my water." Ned clutched his head.

"We're freaking screwed." Charles lamented.

"Okay guys, I know that was scary, but our safety systems are working." The tour guide attempted to calm the group down, but someone started coughing, sending the rest of them on edge. "We're very safe here."

Marin knew it was a lie—they all did. As the seconds passed, the sounds of metal creaking were beginning to be heard. Marin could've tried to siphon water from the bodies around her, but it required a lot of energy that Marin didn't have. The altitude was making her dizzy, and she knew that even if she managed to gather enough water, her energy would deplete too quickly for her to do anything with it, and she'd been rendered not only useless but an unconscious burden.

The groaning of the framework deepened as the passengers moved about. Debris pinged against the roof of the car, and the tour guide had Mr. Harrington hoist her up to the hatch in the ceiling. Marin could barely make out the sight of park rangers opening the shaft's glass panels. Cindy was the first to be lifted through the hatch, and Marin could hear cords snapping. She grabbed Ned's arm.

Sally was next, then Charles, then Abe. Marin heard the distant sounds of helicopters. "Okay, who's next?" Mr. Harrington motioned to Liz.

She moved to grab his shoulder, but Flash shoved her out of the way, still clutching the goddamn trophy like a lifeline. "Me! It's my turn!" He cried, hoisting himself on Mr. Harrington's shoulders.

"Flash, seriously? What are you doing?!" Ned scolded, as Liz scoffed indignantly and Marin frowned at the boy's cowardly actions.

He was barely outside the hatch when the elevator shook violently, throwing everyone into a panic.

Flash thrust the trophy into the outstretched hands of the park rangers. "Take my trophy!" He moved to stand on the roof, and the car shook again, dropping a couple of inches.

"This is your last chance!" Marin vaguely heard the police cry from outside.

Flash had just been lifted out of the shaft when there was one last vicious groan of metal, the roof of the elevator ripping off and sending the car into a free-fall.

Screaming was all Marin could hear as she clutched the railing with one hand and Ned's arm with the other until the car came to an abrupt stop. Looking up, Marin saw a web connected to the outside of the car. She had only a moment to breath before she heard glass shattering and they were falling once more.

The car caught on something, and a figure crashed into the elevator as it halted. The momentum of the body hitting the floor caused the car to jolt and start falling again. Marin had never been on a roller coaster, but she absently assumed this was what it felt like—the swooping of her heart and the weight dropping her stomach into her feet.

Spider-Man aimed another web at the top of the shaft, bracing his feet on what remained of the broken metal roof, stopping the car yet again.

In the brief silence that ensued, Mr. Harrington, Ned, Liz, and Marin all stared at Spider-Man in a combination of shock, terror, and relief. Spider-Man cleared his throat roughly, adopting a thick New York accent. "Hey, how you doin'? Don't worry 'bout it, I gotchu." He began pulling the car up.

"Yes!" Ned cheered, pumping his fists and making the car wobble with his obvious excitement. "Yes!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Big guy! Quit movin' around!"

"Sorry, sir. So sorry."

Marin noticed the exertion Peter was putting out, lifting the car up one hand after the other. A quick glance over at Liz showed that she was thoroughly confused, probably as to why the hell Spider-Man had shown up in D.C., of all places.

Suspense grew thickly as Marin watched the car approach the top of the shaft. The park rangers pried the doors to the elevator open and pulled Mr. Harrington and Ned through. "Alright, this is your stop," Peter quipped, but his voice was tight with tension. "Go, go, go! Everybody out! Move it, people—move it, move it!" Marin looked up, and saw the metal bend under Peter's feet, ready to snap any second. Reacting on instinct, Marin pushed Liz through the door and into the arms awaiting her to safety—just in time for the ceiling to collapse, and the car to drop under Marin's feet.

Marin screamed, reaching her arms to grab Peter's, but missing it just barely. "No!" Peter cried out, instantly grabbing her wrist with a web.

He held himself up with his feet grabbing at a web while pulling a dangling Marin up with his hands. It was a strange sensation, the web attached to her wrist—chilled and a bit slimy, but secure and steady nonetheless.

"You're okay, you're okay," Peter repeated in a chant, sounding genuinely distressed. He grasped her hand when he pulled her up enough, not letting go until she was safe on the observation deck.

Marin stared into Spider-Man's mask, hoping to tell him something—anything—but her heart twisted when she realized that he was instead staring at Liz, his bionic eyes widened. "Is everyone okay? Are you guys okay?"

He went silent as Liz nodded, seemingly in a weird trance as she returned Spider-Man's stare. "Yeah," Marin mumbled, but it went unnoticed.

Then, the web snapped, and Spider-Man fell down into the empty shaft. The spectators gasped and peered into the darkness to watch the hero plummet. "Thank you!" Mr. Harrington called down.

Flash pushed Marin to the side to lean over the mangled frame, still holding the freaking trophy, to yell, "Are you really friends with Peter Parker?!"

+++

Initially, the team was supposed to stay in D.C. for another full day. But once everyone was brought to the ground with the help of many teams of policemen and firefighters, it was kind of a unanimous decision to head back to New York as soon as possible.

Once statements were made and their physical conditions were cleared by awaiting paramedics, Marin overheard a policewoman tell another that Spider-Man was nowhere to be found—he'd simply vanished. Before Marin could worry that he'd been injured (or worse), Peter had suddenly ran up to the group, claiming he'd gone for a walk early that morning and fell asleep in some park. No one really believed him, but everyone was still shaken up from the day, and they were more relieved to see that Peter was okay and unharmed.

Marin had gone to tackle Peter with a hug, but Liz had beat her to it. So that left Marin stopping short, feeling awkward and embarrassed, especially when she realized that Peter had barely even glanced her way, instead, fussing over Liz and her well-being. Marin had selfishly thought that she was the one who had really almost died, and Liz was perfectly okay and didn't need so much of Peter's attentions; but chastised herself immediately after, reminding herself that Peter had known Liza lot longer than he'd known Marin, and it was more likely that Peter would be more concerned for the older girl. It didn't make the sting of mild rejection any less painful, though.

But what surprised her most was Michelle coming to greet Marin with a swift hug, though she'd broken away almost immediately and acted as if she hadn't just expressed such relief. But Michelle's voice wobbled with concern, which was more than enough for Marin's eyes to well with tears.

Back on the bus, everyone sat close together, though no one really talked. Peter was with Ned, probably recounting the events that kept him away for the night, but Marin was too enervated to care. Whenever she closed her eyes, she was haunted with horrifying memories of the floor dropping out from underneath her and plagued with feelings of lingering helplessness. So she asked Michelle if she had a spare book, and Michelle handed over her now-finished copy of Invitation to a Beheading wordlessly, pulling another book from her bag.

Her eyes blurred and she didn't register the words she read at all, but it gave her something to distract her mind with. Distract her from the burning feeling in her chest whenever she let her thoughts run aimlessly.

It was dark outside when they reached the high school. The team scrambled off the bus to find their families.

Marin was the last to descend the steps, watching as her new friends embraced their parents and siblings and loved ones with open sobs and declarations of love and concern. Peter was enveloped into May's awaiting arms as she cried with relief. The sights made Marin's heart ache.

What if he wasn't there? Marin thought to herself. What if Spider-Man hadn't shown up to save the day? She wondered that if her parents were still alive, would they be just as happy to see her safe and sound? The hole in her chest where she normally felt empowered made her begin to believe otherwise.

Her wandering mind was interrupted when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. It was May, with one arm around her shoulders and the other tilted up, with her hand tenderly cradling the back of Marin's head. Marin returned the hug and began to cry.

+++

Back at the apartment, May made the teens hot chocolate and microwaved dozens of pizza rolls. They ate in silence, no one wanting to address the day's events. They were just fine with being in each other's presence.

Eventually, once all the food was gone and their mugs were drained, May retired to bed, kissing each of them on the temple, and wishing them a good night.

"Can we talk?" Peter rasped once May had disappeared down the hall. Marin nodded, following him into his room.

They sat together on the lower bunk, and a moment of silence passed as Peter summoned the words he needed to say.

"I'm sorry." Peter finally spoke, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm sorry—about what I said last night, and for ditching you guys, and almost getting you killed—"

Marin twisted and pulled him into a hug. Peter wasn't crying, but he was trembling in her arms, and Marin felt a pang of guilt for not considering how scared he must've been. They had both endured falling from that height together, and he even had to climb up the outside of the monument just to reach them. Not to mention, he was still probably traumatized from plummeting into the lake, not a few nights before. She clutched him tighter, shushing him gently.

"It's okay, Peter." She whispered into his hair. "You showed up, you were there, and you saved us, okay?" She pulled back to look Peter in the eyes. They were glassy like he was holding back tears. "You saved me. And I'll always be grateful for that."

He nodded, sniffing lightly. They peeled themselves apart, taking a moment to compose themselves.

After a while, Marin asked, "Why didn't you tell me, though, Pete? Why didn't you tell me before you made the decision to go fight those guys by yourself?" Her voice was surprisingly steady. "Did you not... I don't know, not trust me, or something? Because I thought we were in this together." She didn't mean to sound so needy, but yet it did.

"We are in it together, Marin." Peter urged. "I just... I know you like Mr. Stark, too, but if I told you that I needed to hack into the suit to disable the tracker, I knew you'd—"

"You hacked into your suit?!" Marin exclaimed. "You fool! What if you messed with something important and got yourself killed?!" She scolded, smacking his arm.

"Hey!" He grabbed where she hit him defensively. "I knew you'd object! 's why I didn't tell you! And then, you got upset with me—understandably so—" he pointed out at her vexed glare. "—and I didn't want to force you."

Marin sighed after watching his reaction, placated. "Fair enough, webs." The corner of her lips tilted up in a crooked smile. "What else did you do to the suit, then?"

Peter laughed, looking excited. "So, it turns out my suit comes with my very own AI lady..."

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99 @pushmeinablackhole @-thatgirloverthere- @demi-starzak

[oracleofbullshyt-blog]

Chapter 3 - Dinner Time

This has to be my favourite chapter so far so i hope you guys enjoy it, it gives a nice introduction to the crew.

The next chapter is proving difficult to write so while i struggle away maybe ill write a short story? Send in your asks.

---------------

Looking up from his Holopad Vahatu scanned the busy common room from his seat on the couch, this ship was unlike anything he had worked on before. The crew of Leonidas’s Shield often came to the common room after shift to interact with one another and ‘relax’ as the captain had put it, and today was no different.

In the far end of the common room Ben the cook was busy preparing the nights various meals for the crew, he took delight in meeting each crew members dietary requirements, unlike other ships the nutrient dispensers had been replaced with a real ‘Oven’, because as Ben had told him ‘’there’s no way I’m going to be stuck in a flying bathtub and have to suck on flavourless filth every day, I want a real home cooked meal.’’ Vahatu hadn’t understood half of this statement and it had seemed very inefficient to cook meals for every different species aboard, until he saw the boost in moral and how it made everyone come together each shift.

 He chuckled and felt his scales pulse a light yellow in amusement as he saw the Fenris’ulfr stalk towards the Oven on all fours as low to ground as he could be, the captain had introduced him as Wolfs (his real name was a series of growls and yips that no one but the mimic on the crew could successfully repeat), waiting for Ben to turn around Wolfs leant over the counter and reached into the pot. Only to be hit on the elbow by an unnecessarily large spoon by the cook who had since seen him, wolfs had released a decidedly unpredatory yelp at that.

 Sitting at the large dining table playing a human game called ‘Poke-her’, as to who they were poking and where she was eluded Vahatu as the game was actually played with cards, were the two Avisxian’s, their large feathered wings tucked behind their backs and their burght colouring eluded to their evolution from some sort of Avian prey descent. Joining them was the Mantideias, a predatory insectoid that the cook referred to as Mantis, its mandibles clicking as it looked at its deck of cards. The Cephapodosa caught his eye and gave him a wink as they played their hand triumphantly, at the outrage of the others at the table he extended a few of his many tentacles he used for manipulation to pull the chips towards himself. Vahatu had made fast friends with the Cephapodosa that worked in navigation as they both could manipulate their colourings; their colour languages were different but not altogether undecipherable.

Vahatu went back to his holopad, looking through the real time schematics of the ship trying to make sense of the haphazard construction of its systems when the Dheigat fell into the seat opposite him and stretched out.

‘’You know the captain spent the time explaining the idea of relaxing to you, so that you could try it out sometime? The days over you can put the holopad down now’’.

Initium’s silvery voice flowed over him as he looked up at her, her bipedal form quite closely resembled a human, however there the similarities ended. Her skin was covered in small scales that were a purple so pale she was almost white, except along her tail where the purple got deeper towards the end, her colouring the result of her matriarch’s death and the grief she went through.

‘’I do try, but how anyone feels safe travelling on a ship in this condition is beyond me. The fusion drive’s service light has been on for 38 jumps, its supposed to be seen to within 4, and for some reason it’s deemed perfectly ok to just seal off rooms with hull breaches and not fix them if they aren’t currently being used. Twice now I’ve nearly been pulled out the ship you know.’’

Vahatu’s scales settled on a light green as they conversed, Initium was one of the first to accept him on the ship and because of their shared status as outcasts she made him feel secure with her presence.

 The cook rang the buzzer to say the food was ready, which sent everyone scuttling for the benches around the table eager to see what was on the menu tonight. The captain came walking in with the android who called himself Omni, closely followed by the ships Yemmae. Just like the ship the android was asymmetrical, its body made up of scavenged parts that had been found throughout their travels, its left arm slightly larger and lower hanging and its right leg thicker than its left, its visual sensors uneven in both number and size on its metallic face.

It never ate but always sat with them at dinner, joining in conversation with each member of the crew in their native tongue. Omni’s core took up two crew rooms, responsible for his back up and very personality it was a confusing mess of information stacks and wires, he was plugged directly into all aspects of the ship in order to minimise the crew needed for operations. Vahatu had noted that he had an insatiable appetite for knowledge always asking the crew to find him data chips at markets when they docked, and always asking questions.

 Whilst the cook was carrying the pots of food to the table the captain stood up and gathered everyone’s attention, looking around the table he frowned, ‘’Before we begin where’s slugs? He’s late.’’

‘’He’s coming now I can hear him down the halls’’, Wolfs auditory sensors were the best on the ship, and true to form Slugs the mimic came crashing down the hallway. Affectionately dubbed slugs by the crew, he was in fact a mimic. A being made up of several thousand small worm like creatures from the same species, when enough of these beings came together they created a hive mind acting as one. They can change their shape, colourings and very molecular structure at will for whatever purpose they see fit. Vahatu could see that Slugs however was agitated and scared, fleeing from unseen danger, charging down the hallway he was rapidly flashing between different forms trying to get an advantage on whatever was chasing him. Four legs. Now six. Now two. Charging into the room he grabbed the door with three outstretched appendages and used his momentum to swing himself at a near ninety degree angle, an amorphous shape that now clung to the wall. Finally settling on a large reptilian creature with too many legs to be natural, slugs skittered up the wall onto the ceiling. His assailant finally appeared at the entrance to room. Slowly stalking its prey.

 The crew broke down in laughter, the cook lay on the floor unable to move wracked with convulsions as the small cleaning unit with a knife strapped to it rolled in. Major Stabby. Vahatu’s scales pulsed yellow in amusement as Omni the ships android sighed heavily as he got up to salute the cleaning robot which only set the crew off further into hysterics.

Vahatu was still unsure of why Omni had to salute the cleaning robot, or why and how it achieved the rank of major without being sentient, and furthermore why for a pre-programmed robot with no emotion did it hate Slugs so much, not to mention the knife strapped to it. As Fenris’ulfr pointed out when he had asked this, nothing makes sense when you work with humans. Especially Ben, who seemed to have a penchant for the ludicrous.

Once the cleaning robot was taken out of the room and Slugs was convinced to come off the ceiling the captain stood up again,

‘’Alright enough, everyone settle down now. Tomorrow we’re heading into the outer Sagittarius arm, I’ve finally found a friendly enough re-fitter who’s willing to service the ship and keep it off their records. After that we’re headed off to go get a very special piece of tech for our friends in the nebula.’’

 Vahatu lay in his hammock looking at the ships service history preparing for the refit that was coming. His clearance got him through a few barricades in the ships logs and what he found was astounding.

Leonidas’s Shield was born to the Shipyards orbiting Mars as stealth exploration vehicle, one of the first infiltrator class ships that Humanity built. It was outfitted with humanities most cutting-edge weapons and armaments, and a two-metre-thick Mangalloy steel front shield extension.

During the war for Earth it affectively neutralised a capital ship by itself and then chased down multiple long-range rocket salvo ships.

The bridge had been destroyed by a fighter’s torpedo, eventually all four auxiliary engines were damaged leaving only the jump engine, and the crew were forced to work in zero gravity with full life suits due to the damage the main systems of the ship had taken. Yet she still fought. Using her cloaking device to scramble the weapons locked on to the ship, they alternated between firing off the ships salvos and then cloaking to break off and get away from the return fire.

Their cloaking system malfunctioned, and they were stuck in stealth mode, their coms array to damaged to get off an SOS. The acting captain ordered all lifeforms off the ship and into life pods as the planet was split into two, and they were picked up by other escaping ships as they retreated.

 Vahatu could see his purple tipped scales lighting up the room as he pondered on what he was seeing. There was no record of the ship being apart of humanities wandering fleet, or of the ship sending out a distress signal, so how could the ship have escaped? The captains name wasn’t on the officers list either so where did he fit in?

Vahatu’s scales changed to a harsher maroon as he read the rest of the service history, the ships mystery strayed from his mind after a while as he continued. The Captain had added multiple non-standard secondary systems, and personal touches it seemed. Leonidas’s Shield was a flying short circuit and barely one energy bolt away from the fission core venting itself into the crew quarters, but now Vahatu had to try get the ship ready with the help of a few backwards black-market ship servicers.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 49

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: On arrival James Fraser does a clandestine inspection of the secluded property to see what security Madame Cheung has in place while trying to avoid detection.  The next evening, she takes Jamie and Claire to see her newest club in order to lure St. Germain into the business.

THANK YOU so much for reading, liking or reblogging my story.  I really appreciate your continued support and I am very happy that you find this story enjoyable.

  Previous chapters  can be found at …https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

 CHAPTER 49

  They had travelled several kilometres past the outskirts of the city when Magnus decelerated and turned off the main motorway.  He drove down a dirt road that led to an imposing house set back from the highway on a few acres of land. Approaching the property Jamie noticed that there was a gated area leading up to the house and several guards were stationed at the entrance. The chauffeur slowed down the jaguar at the gates before he was waved through when they realised who he was, and in no time Jamie and Claire soon arrived at a traditional Thai residence located at the end of the winding road.   Situated in sprawling grounds surrounded by a lake, lush tropical vegetation and flowering bougainvillea, the house had the traditional Thai architecture that Claire had admired on the journey.

Proceeding towards the house, Magnus circled the driveway then bought the jaguar to a stop near to where a well-dressed woman was standing on the threshold to the entrance of the house.  Madame Cheung herself was waiting there to greet her guests’ arrival and had a huge smile on her face as she waited for Le Comte St Germain and Claire Beauchamp.  Getting out of the limousine, the chauffeur opened the door then stood to one side as his passengers exited the vehicle. As they approached the house, he turned to retrieve their luggage from the trunk of the car.

“Claire ... Monsieur Le Comte ... Welcome.  Thank you for coming,” Madame Cheng gushed as her guests neared closer.

“Non ... Thank you Madame.” Jamie replied placing a chaste kiss to the back of her outstretched hand.

She eyed him boldly before asking, “Did you have a pleasant flight?”

Ushering Claire forward he placed his hand to her back then sliding it around her waist he pulled her close.  Giving her an evocative smile, he looked only at Claire before answering. “Oui ... we did.”

Madame Cheung’s intense gaze observed his intimate mannerisms with her protégé and was most pleased with this association.  It certainly bode well for her intentions concerning St Germain.  “Good ... come inside I have organised refreshments and your accommodation. I’m sure you will be very comfortable here.”

“Merci.”

“Tomorrow we will discuss business Monsieur Le Comte and I will give you a tour of my business holdings here in Bangkok.”

“Perfect,” Jamie replied giving her his full attention at her declaration and plying on the charm he had Madame Cheung in the palm of his hand.

“Perhaps you would care to join me later for drinks on the terrace Monsieur?”

“You are most generous Madame ... When?”

“Shall we say in an hour?”

“By all means.”

“Could I have a word with Claire before then Monsieur Le Comte?”

Jamie reluctantly released his arm from around Claire’s waist. “Of course.  I will just orientate myself with your lovely residence until we meet, again shall I?”

“Certainly, enjoy your stroll Monsieur but stay on the path for your safety.”

“Oh ... I will,” Jamie replied before taking his leave.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

James Fraser watched as Madame Cheung and Claire entered the house then once they were out of sight, he began his reconnaissance around the immediate area of her residence. When they had arrived earlier in the evening, he’d taken note of the secluded road that the limousine had driven along on their approach to the gated entrance to Madame Cheung’s Thai home. Surrounded by heavy foliage and trees, the high gate and fence that bordered the perimeter of the property hid the house from the main road. Due to its very private location off the highway, its seclusion and the unmistakable security that surrounded the property, it was obvious that the residence was well concealed from any would be interlopers. Their chauffeur, Magnus, had also not needed to activate the security buzzer mounted just outside the gate as the guards had waved him though knowing that he was her personal driver. Continuing down the path of the sprawling grounds, Jamie headed towards the lake ever mindful of keeping to the shadows of the vegetation in order to avoid detection as there were several patrolling guards about. Hearing voices approaching, he pressed himself up against a tree out of sight while they loomed nearby and waited for the guards to pass him by. Once they had done so, he pulled an infrared tracking mechanism from his pocket to survey the surrounds. Jamie used it to scan the immediate area for any concealed security devices mounted in strategic positions around the grounds or near the house. He activated the device and it immediately lit up with the location of several well-placed surveillance cameras mounted in trees, sculptures and on the outer building, signalling that the estate was extremely well protected. Coupled with the high-tech security cameras on the tall entrance gate, Madame Cheung obviously took no chances when it came to her safety and the wellbeing of her guests. Checking to see the safest egress point without being intercepted by the revolving cameras, Jamie watched until the camera rotated creating a blind spot. As soon as the way was clear, he darted across the lawn rushing into the heavy tropical foliage and woods. Continuing his meticulous assessment of Madame Cheung’s property, Jamie noted a standalone building off to his right and made his way towards it. However, he was unexpectedly accosted by a particularly menacing guard who had unfortunately stumbled across him.

With a raised gun aimed directly at Jamie’s head the guard ordered, “Stop or I’ll shoot!” Turning slowly towards the guard with his hands raised in the air, Jamie replied. “Mon Dieu ... Please don’t!” “Who are you? How did you get into this property?” “I’m not an intruder if that’s what you think. My name is Le Comte St. Germain and I’m Madame Cheung’s houseguest for the week.” Jamie explained. However, the guard was sceptical and radioed this Intel to the residence for verification while he held Jamie at gunpoint. “What are you doing here? This area is out of bounds to guests.” “I seem to have lost my bearings. I’ve strayed off the main path and lost my way back to the house. Could you point me in the right direction s'il vous plaît?” The guard’s radio soon crackled to life with an impending reply. He raised it to his ear and listened. Once confirmation was received, the guard lowered the radio and looked at Jamie. He was sent on his way back to the house with a caution to stay on the main path to his left. However, as soon as the guard was out of sight Jamie retraced his steps to investigate what was inside the building. Then, contacting Section One he relayed the Intel of his position to Fergus.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Immediately Fergus set to work. In next to no time an aerial view of Madame Cheung’s compound with Jamie’s location and that of the buildings in the near vicinity screened on his computer monitor. He adjusted the magnification and a closer visual of the building under question became highlighted. 

“Jamie? I have visual.”

“Good ... Report.” “There are two hot spots inside the room but several more in the surrounding vicinity. I suggest that you proceed with caution.” Opening the fuse box on the outside of the building, Jamie disconnected the wires to the alarm system before he disabled the light fuses which immediately caused the lights to go out in the building. Taking some night vision glasses out of his jacket he put them on before he entered the building and made his way inside. Keeping alert Jamie heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. A man was walking down the hallway close to where he was. Without knowing what had happened, the assailant was taken out of the equation as Jamie took him down with a swift blow to the carotid artery. He fell slumped to the floor. Overstepping the body, he continued inside the building. “Fergus?” “There is still one body in a room to your left.”

“Okay.” Making his way down a corridor Jamie approached a large room where an elaborate security system was housed. Several large monitors screened the perimeter of the property and the various placed cameras relayed the visual of the surrounding grounds back to the hub of the property’s security system. Such high maintenance security meant only one thing ... Madame Cheung’s residence was extremely well protected mainly by a highly developed security system and armed guards who patrolled the boundary as a deterrent to any enemies who may think to storm the property. Hence any assault on her premises would have to come from other means rather than an offensive from the outside parameters of her house.  Hence it could be problematic for the teams to make an assault, hence her capture would have to be in a less secure area away from the house and most likely at her business venue. Entering further into the room, Jamie saw a lone security guard monitoring procedures. Although the lights had been disabled there was still enough illumination from the computer screens for the guard to be able to see. However, he failed to hear the stealth footsteps of James Fraser as he immobilized the unsuspecting guard at his console. “All clear Fergus.” To his Section trained eyes the system was rudimentary and if needs be he could disable it in a flash, however, before he had a chance to do so Fergus’ voice echoed in warning. “Hold a second Jamie. I have movement near to your position. Hostiles approaching. You’ll need to egress ASAP.” Moving back from whence he’d came, Jamie made a swift retreat into the shadows of the grounds before he was discovered by Madame Cheung’s security guards yet again coming to see why the lights had gone out in the surveillance building. He then made his way back to the residence in double quick time. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Entering the house Jamie soon joined the ladies on the terrace. Madame Cheung was leaning on a wooden railing, overlooking her garden while talking with Claire when he entered. Hearing his approach, she looked up from her conversation then turned to face him welcoming him back. “Ah Monsieur Le Comte, you’ve returned. I hope you enjoyed your stroll.” “I did Madame but I’m afraid I became a little disoriented.” “Yes, I was informed but I’m glad that you found your way back again. Now ... come sit down. Would you care to join us for drinks prior to retiring for the evening?” “But of course.” Summoning her servant, she soon returned with refreshments and placed them on the table in front of Madame Cheung’s guests. “I do apologise for my overzealous security guard.” “No need. He was only doing his job. It is far better to be safe than sorry, is it not? “Indeed, Monsieur Le Comte.” Taking a sip of her drink Madame Cheung eyed Jamie with a keen awareness before stating, “I have already made arrangements for you to tour my business holdings here in Bangkok tomorrow evening.” “Merci Madame. I know I will look forward to seeing the size of your assets.” She cast him a wry grin. “Oh, you flatter me Monsieur, but I’m sure it is Claire’s assets that you admire more.” “That is true,” Jamie replied tongue in cheek to her innuendo, “but I speak of your prowess as a business woman, although your physical assets are indeed remarkable too Madame Cheung.” “Yes ... well ...” she replied a little flabbergasted at his cheeky remark, then changing the subject on to a more even keel stated, “I have recently opened a new premises in Patpong ... one I’m sure that we will have a mutually exclusive interest in.” “Really Madame? ... If what I suspect is the same line of business as in Hong Kong then rest assured, we will be doing business together in the future.” “Excellent.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Some time later Madame Cheung was approached by her servant who gesticulated towards the entrance. Glancing in the direction of the door she saw a member of her security team nervously pacing back and forth as he waited. Beckoning him over to her he bent down and whispered in her ear. Madame Cheung’s facial expression changed almost at once. She stood up then turning towards her guests announced, “I’m afraid I must offer my apologies. Something has arisen that needs my personal attention. Please excuse me but I am needed elsewhere.” “Is there anything that we can do Madame?” “No! No! Stay and enjoy my hospitality. This shouldn’t take very long, but if it does, I will see you tomorrow.” “Very well. Good night Madame.” The two Section operatives watched as their hostess made a hasty retreat from the terrace to attend to the security breach that had occurred. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The next evening Madame Cheung’s limousine cruised along the streets of Bangkok heading for the area called the most popular ... nay infamous "red-light district" for westerners in all of Asia and where the Rising Dragons ran numerous business interests. “Claire tells me, that you were well pleased with her services Monsieur Le Comte.” “That is true Madame ... I could not have wished for anything more.” “Good ... I am pleased to hear it, as I am to know that you are here visiting Thailand. I hope you will be interested in doing business with us once you have had a chance to inspect our business interests here and in Koh Samui.” “Thank you Madame. I’m sure I will.” “As you are no doubt aware Bangkok is a city of contrasts, ancient and ultramodern, beautiful and, in a word ... seedy.” “Oui ... I had noticed.” Madame Cheung laughed momentarily then picked up her phone and called through to her driver with an address. “Soi Patpong, between Silom and Surawong,” she ordered. Then turning to Jamie said, “We’ll be heading to Patpong where, as I said last evening, I have just opened a new business venue that you might like to inspect.” “Of course.” “Unfortunately Magnus is unable to park the limousine close to the club, so we’ll play the tourist tonight and check out some of the attractions along the way as it is only a short walk to my new premises.” “No problems Madame.  We could all use some fresh evening air.” Madame Cheung smiled, then turning towards Claire she stated, “Patpong is one of Bangkok's famous night street markets with everything you may want or need. Perhaps some trinket will take your eye Claire?” “Perhaps, but you have given me everything I need already Madame.”

“That is true my dear, yet what girl can resist a bargain? Hmm?” “We shall see.” Looking at Jamie once again Madame Cheung continued, “It’s a business district by day Monsieur Le Comte, but Patpong really only comes to life at dusk when the pursuit of sex is its main appeal.” Jamie nodded. “Interesting.” “It has inevitably become a tourist "must see” and is the hub of our enterprise. Sex is what some tourists come for and sex is what I provide ... at a price.” “So tell me Madame Cheung ... how many business interests do the Rising Dragons have in Bangkok in total?” “Oh, Monsieur Le Comte!” she laughed, amusement dripping from her words.  “The Rising Dragons have carte blanche under my jurisdiction and patronage here in Bangkok. There are numerous bars, erotic shows, massage parlours, clubs and of course our exclusive escort services that we own and operate.” “I see.”

“There are far too many to put a figure on ... but at a guess it is in the hundreds. Why ... there are over a 100 back-to-back neon-lit bars here in Patpong itself. The Rising Dragons own all the land here and we also collect over 10 million baht monthly from rent alone.” 

“Very profitable and ... impressive.” Jamie remarked.

“Thank you.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire was incredulous as to what Madame Cheung was espousing about the Rising Dragons’ “interests”. She was horrified especially given her firsthand knowledge of the girls involved and how they came to be in her service. Although her eyes relayed interest in what she was telling Jamie, inside she was seething at the loss of innocence of the girls and boys involved in these establishments. The sooner they took Madame Cheung out of the equation and brought her into Section One couldn’t come quick enough for her. She wondered how she would be able to avoid being desensitized by Patpong and not come away disturbed, troubled or bothered by what she would see. The quicker Section could minimize the abuses obviously taking place in these few blocks of the City of Angels, where virtually anything sensual that was available could be bought, then the better it would be for the hundreds of girls and young boys forced to live this debouched way of life. Her faith in human decency had been shattered and she hoped that there was indeed some redeeming feature about Patpong and that something else, something more positive was also going on. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The streets were full with people milling around. The blue and red Thai taxis cruised along Patpong 1 lane and tuk-tuks carried inquisitive tourists past the hustle and bustle of street vendors, bars, restaurants, massage parlours and hotels. After travelling down the short lanes stretching between Silom and Surawong Roads where the glow of neon lights made it seem like daylight, the limousine pulled into the curb and Madame Cheung, Claire and Jamie got out of the vehicle. Four of her bodyguards followed at a discreet distance. “My new premises are a short walk from here ... shall we?” “Mais oui ... Madame.” Overzealous salesmen and touts were pestering the tourists for their dollars as they strolled past the night market selling clothes, fake watches and souvenirs down the centre of Patpong 1 and out along Silom Road. Sandwiched between stalls hawking Louis Vuitton luggage and Chanel handbags, jade trinkets and flip-flop sandals, they passed Bangkok's fast-talking, baht-barking watch vendors, selling their cache of knock-off luxury timepieces. Many eyes scrutinized the three well-dressed people as they walked along obviously heading to the new club just recently opened down the street. With Madame Cheung’s earlier words echoing in her ears, Claire ambled over to a watch vendor with a sign saying ... “SUNEE’S EXCLUSIVE WATCHES” ... where all kinds of timepieces from quartz, to automatic models were to be seen. Sunee offered a blinding collection of brand names of just about every high-end Swiss timepiece on the market. There were watches from Baume & Mercier, Rado, Omega, Panerai and Cartier. There were also dozens of gold and diamond-encrusted Rolexes and Guccis all looking tantalizingly genuine.

 A stern looking woman greeted her approach with a slight nod. 

Fingering an Omega Constellation, Claire couldn't help but exclaim, "This can't be fake!" "Same same, but different," the proprietress answered.

They did look the part and Claire cast her eye on one that particularly caught her attention. A Diamond studded Cintrée Curvex watch from Franck Muller with its pretty blue band and face the colour of her eyes took her fancy. At first and second glance, it looked and felt a lot like the real thing. Although it was a multi-functional watch, it was embellished with precious stones that made it all that more appealing as it sparkled under the glare of the bright lights. The watch had a golden case set with three rows of diamonds and its amazing and attractive design with the combination of diamonds made it so appealing to Claire. She thought that she could add it to her watch and sunglasses collection back home at her normal apartment.

“How much?” She queried fingering the exquisite timepiece.

“4,600 baht. Very good price,” Sunee replied watching her intensely, eager for a sale. “You have superb taste my dear ... Although this is only an imitation, that particular Franck Muller watch design is one of his most expensive timepieces. They sell for about $US130,000.00,” Madame Cheung interrupted coming up to stand beside her. “Really?” “Claire you don’t need a replica when you can have the real thing.” “Yes, I know ... but it is pretty Madame.” 

Nevertheless, she replaced the watch back on the table, then turning to the owner replied, “Thank you ... but no thank you ... it’s a little too pricey.”

“How much you pay? I give you good price!” The proprietress implored as Claire moved away with Madame Cheung, ignoring the seller’s entreaty. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jamie had witnessed Claire’s exchange at the stall and as the two women continued walking further down the street past the other market stalls, he remained back and stepped in to haggle with the spry little lady with the beady but piercing eyes.

“Did I hear you say the price for this watch correctly?”  He asked plying her with a charming smile.

The woman looked up at Jamie thinking that for sure she would have a sale this time.  “Yes.  4,600 baht ... very good price.”  She picked up the watch in question and handed it to him. “Look at the jewels, at the design. It is beautiful for your lady no?”

 “I’ll give you 1800 baht.”

“Kee nee-ow ai wen!” Sunee mumbled under her breath then with her hand on her chest she replied forlornly, “Oh, you wound me sir! How can I feed my family on such a pittance?”

“Nah gliat ee-gah,” Jamie replied playfully indicating that he had understood exactly what she had mumbled under her breath calling him a stingy bastard.  He gave her a piercing look demonstrating that her little performance had no effect on him.  “The watch is exorbitantly overpriced ... I noticed other stalls have the same watch for 2750 baht.”

She laughed at his veiled insult in Thai of calling her an ugly old crow then smiled at this engaging man. “But look at the workmanship, the gold. Is it not a masterpiece?” Sunee explained hoping to sway Jamie to her sales pitch.

“It is not worth more than 1800 baht.”

She upped the ante. “2500. It is good buy at that price.”

“2300 ... my last offer. Take it or leave it,” he countered.

“You drive a very hard bargain monsieur.  It is yours.”

A toothy grin appeared from her mouth as the debonair gentleman bartered competently for the watch. She was impressed with his haggling skills and finally agreed on a modest price for the timepiece of 2,300 baht. Laying the watch in its protective box, she gave it to him.

Jamie placed the package in his breast pocket and quickly caught up with Claire and Madame Cheung and followed the two women on to her new venue with the watch safely in the pocket of his jacket. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued 

“Kee nee-ow ai wen!” -  stingy bastard

 “Nah gliat ee-gah” - ugly old crow

[home-working]

Powerlunching with Fran López

I technically met Fran through my friend/his wife, Sarah (who, coincidentally, I met through an ex named Fran!). About three years ago, Fran and I were both running late to a graphic novel panel discussion in Brooklyn that Sarah was speaking on, and I recognized him from her Instagram feed/comics, so I said “Hi, are you Fran?!” like an inept Internet stalker. We ended up hanging out all afternoon while she signed books and realised we had a lot in common (web development! pastries! Sarah! jokes!), so we became internet friends.

Fran is now a software engineer at Tumblr (coincidentally he is tasked with fixing the biggest problem I have with it), is a cartoonist himself, and has endured periods of homeworking, like when he didn’t yet have a greencard, or when we slowly tackled a year-long freelance project together (in the middle of which he had a baby). I would also like to state that we originally Powerlunched in December of 2017 and I didn’t get these questions back until I harassed him a few weeks ago, a partial cause of which may have been the baby(?).

What is your full name? Francisco Tomás López. In 2003, RFC 3629 established UTF-8 as a standard Internet protocol element. It's 2019 now and I just signed up for the YMCA, but my name is displayed as "Francisco Tomás López".

Where are you originally from? The lovely neighborhood of Villa del Parque in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

What is your legal work status? "Don't ask, don't tell."

What is your healthcare status? "See something, say something."

What do you do for a living? I'm a software engineer that is able to legally work in the US of A, so my work and healthcare statuses are actually pretty good, at least until the tech bubble bursts. Once that happens I'm pretty much useless, but I'm married to very handy woman, she'll protect me.

What do you do for fun? I do many things. Most notable in the context of this interview: I'm an avid baker. (Meaning: last week I made some muffins for the first time. Even though they turned out great, you refused to eat them. Why wouldn't you have my muffins, Christy?) [Editor’s note: Why did it take you so long to finish this interview, Fran?]

Do you miss working from home full-time? Half of the time I do. I think my relationship with homeworking can be graphed in a continuous sine wave that peaks high when I realize I can work in my underwear and peaks low when I realized I've been in my underwear for a week. After that I try to get out more until I remember the comfort of staying home and the cycle repeats.

What's it like also living with someone who works from home? Are there any interesting anecdotes to share? Hot tips? Sarah's work is much more fun and interesting to watch than mine. When we were both working full time from home it was great for me to take breaks and see what she was doing. I'm sure she LOVED the constant and unrequested interruptions. Soon after that we decided to have a kid together, so maybe that counts as "hot tip"?

You have a new-ish baby! Will you encourage your baby to also work from home? You could have a family business! Yes! We could both interrupt his mom, I'm sure she'll love that even more!

Do you eat regular meals when you work at home? ¡Ja! (That's Spanish for "Ha!").

As the first fellow programmer I've interviewed (if I'm allowed to call myself one), tell me why you got into programming! (This is a question sponsored by STEM.) I found a tutorial on Pascal somewhere on the semi-early internet when I was 12 and had a lot of fun with it. I wrote some dumb stuff like a program that would take a text file and use the buzzer in the motherboard to make a short sound for every character in the file (the pitch being a multiple of it's ASCII code). I spent hours listening to that and drove my family crazy. Fast forward to now and turns out I have an employable skill!

Do you prefer drawing or programming? I guess I prefer whichever is not the one I'm doing the most of, so that's always been me wanting to draw more and code less. Capitalism assigned us the role of eternal consumers and to that end trains us to place desire in what we don't have.

If you could make a living off comics, would you drop programming altogether? No, I actually like programming. And doing comics full-time will probably drive me crazy. Maybe I would dedicate my programming time to do personal projects. I have this cool idea about a little program that takes a text a file and then uses the buzzer in the motherboard to...

Do you often get compared to the guy who played Christopher in The Sopranos? Only by the most discerning of persons.

Your Twitter handle is @FranniferLopez. Do you feel you have a personal connection to Jennifer Lopez? Years ago I found this great photo from 1999 of Fran Drescher and Jennifer Lopez hanging out in a club. I've used it ever since as my profile photo in all the different online systems of any job I had. How people react to me using that photo is my way to make sure if I should keep that job or start looking for something else. So yes, I feel very connected to Jennifer Lopez (and Fran Drescher, of course).

What were you wearing when we last hung out A YEAR AGO when I took the picture of you eating fries with mustard? (No, you're not allowed to look at the photo, which is also a pretty horrible photo, I’m sorry I backlit you.) First let me say that I think the English speaking part of North America is a beautiful place with rich culture that I'm taking in with my full, open heart. That being said, you guys could be using mustard for so much more! As for clothes: If I was lucky, I was wearing my favorite sweater, which has a flowery pattern in bordeaux over a dark, deep blue background. I don't remember anything else. [Editor’s note: incorrect, but you can see that sweater below, in a much better photo, partially because it includes me!]

Wearing that sweater; laptops.

[anjalisiotey]

dome buzzer by silentequipmentrenta

Now make your own TV style quiz game show with Silent Equipment Rentals dome buzzer by silentequipmentrenta on rent in all over India. These dome-shaped, hi-tech buzzers system can make your corporate event, seminars or even a corporate game show a lively one. We are also available for school quizzes, medical discussions or any other TV game shows. Our world class buzzers give you uninterrupted service and turn any event into an interesting one.

[silentequipmentrent-blog]

Make your own TV-style quiz game show with Hi-Tech Buzzers.. Do you want to make your quiz event a thrilling one?

Connect with us at Silent Equipment Rental and hire hi-tech dome-based buzzers for your quiz contest.

Exceptional features of our buzzer system:

● Lockout + ABCD+ light + sound ● ID programmable available ● Works well with or without software ● 2 Size D batteries or rechargeable lithium battery power

Call us now! - +91 98118 44244

Read More: https://silentequipmentrental.in

#tourguidesystem #wirelessheadphones #rentalequipment #interpretation #languagelearning #tourguide Silent Equipment Rental #wirelessmicrophone #silentpartyheadphone #buzzres #hitechbuzzer #delegatemic #documenttranslation #Votingpad

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

“Not how I would put it, cher.” LeBeau sighed to the downed man. trying to tamp down his growing anxiety for the sake of keeping a cool head. Not always the thief’s specialty, especially where his lover was involved. But he did his best.

 Remy pulled his suit jacket off and bundled it under Norrington’s head as a pillow, staying close to him as he watched sleep pull him down. Drugs or not, the pull of daylight would have his vampire love out of commission until sundown. That left alot of time for a lot of shit to go down.

 The Cajun fingered the collar at his throat, testing it. He tried to summon his energy to charge the thing–despite how risky that prospect was–but nothing came of it. In fact, the effort, the shift in his body temperature caused him to receive a nasty shock. Gambit cursed and fell back, trembling from the shock for a moment or two, but the pain was already passing. Whatever this was, it was high tech. And tech designed specifically to dampen his powers. He hadn’t seen this kind of fuckery since well….not for a long, long time.

 His ruby eyes slid to the same device that was around Norrington’s neck. At first he wanted to laugh–if this was designed specifically for mutants than they were wasting equipment on the vampire. But the humor quickly faded as the thought of what might happen to his beloved if their kidnappers figured this out as well.

Cautiously he rose to his feet, still feeling dazed from the drug still trying to work it’s way out of his system and approached the barred door. He knew better than to touch the lazers, but leaned close enough that he could look up and down the hallway beyond them.  They were not terribly far from the door and from here he could see that two heavily armed guards were posted next to it. Remy frowned again, almost cartoonishly.  These people, whoever they were, were not fucking around. It was going to take the thief time to figure out how to spring them. If it was possible at all.

Just as he was about to slip back next to Norrington’s side, there was the loud sound of a buzzer and armed men marched into the room. They began going to each cell, grabbing whatever mutants were conscious and standing and dragging them into the hall. Remy made the deliberate move to stand at the forefront of the cell, positioned so that James’ slumped figure was less noticeable behind him.

He was grabbed roughly and drug forward. “Move it!” they barked, as if Remy were dragging his feet on the matter.  As the second man was about to step inside towards James, the Cajun acted quickly to distract, bringing up a knee into the guard’s groin sharply. This caused and immediate scuffle that was ended with Gambit receiving an intense shock that put him on his knees. Not that it stopped him from being dragged off with a dozen or so others. But the distraction had worked. James was left to lie in wait. For now.

Norrington could remain awake no longer, life stolen by the suns shine outside the facility they were trapped in.  The one saving grace that its golden rays could not penetrate the building and fry him in this windowless cell. But he was dead to the world. A corpse by all intents and purposes.    Head lifted and rested upon his lovers infamous coat , the scent of him would keep him lulled too . Smelled of Remy, his darling.  

Blissfully unaware of the cruel actions and behavior perpetrated toward his favorite cinnamon haired Cajuns.    Remy had saved him from death , by acting up and being dragged off. Leaving the dead body to its undead sleep through the grueling hours of the day.

Remy meanwhile had been put to work in the hot sun drenched field, like a slave he toiled in the hot sun, for the period of time he was to assist with the manual labor of rebuilding infrastructure for free.  Which meant dirty work like digging ditches, laying pipe ( and not in the fun way ) and other manual , exhausting tasks.

They were given a group lunch at noon , and fed like cattle, hoofing to the troth.  More of that drug laden water in micro increments for parched lips so that they could continue to work. But also to make them dependent.  

By the time sunset rolled around, and they were brought back to their cells, James had been awake for only a few minutes.  Realizing he was alone when no heartbeat accompanied the scent, he sat up straight.

It all came rushing back. " Remy"  

James quickly looked around for a way out. The heavy collar around his neck did little to actually suppress his powers, but unlike Hollywood vampires he could not turn to mist or a bat or anything of the like.  

His gaze falls on the only entrance or exit.  The brightly glowing bars.  He is about to try to make it through those lasers , when there is once more a the buzz of them turning off and  those green eyes widened upon at least four men 'accompanied' remy at  gunpoint back to the room.

" Oh good, sleeping beauty's up.  Good, your turn twinkle toes.  Glad you got some good shut eye in , cuz you're gonna need it. "  

Remy was shoved in and James was grabbed.

James glowered at the men,  but held his hands up. Already anticipating Remy's reaction, or rather brushing his mind. " No no, you've done more than your share.  It's only proper of me to... pull my weight.. " he grins a fangy grin at his lover.  He had no intention of doing anything for them, but he needed them to take their eyes off him for a minute so he had to pretend to play ball.

He mouths 'stay here'  to Remy before turning to go.  The lasers would go back in place, effectively locking Remy in.

But he wouldn't be gone long.

***

Not but an hour later, give or take, all the cell doors open and the facility suffered a rather 'sudden power outage'

Bathed in pitch blackness until the backup flood lights would provide some light again , Remy would hear by his ear..  Miss me, my darling?"

  Madripoor. The Princess Bar.

  It was perhaps not the most conventional place for a long weekend getaway with your sweetheart, but then again there wasn’t much about Remy or James that would be considered “conventional.” 

  Despite the heavy criminal element in Madripoor, Gambit’s ties to the Thieves Guild however ensured they wouldn’t be taken advantage of, as long as they staid in certain circles. Easy enough in The Princess. 

   It was a warm, balmy night, and the pair were on one of the upper private balconies, away from the noisy crowds, floor show and music which seemed to thrum through the building like a pulse. LeBeau sipped his drink--his third of the evening--and took in the dazzling display of lights from the crowded inner city that sprung up around them, back lit by a velvet dark sea and waxing moon. Remy’s hand played along the vampire’s back, teasingly tickling up his lover’s spine as they shared the moment together before setting his drink aside and looking at the paler man fully.  “What do you think?” he asked, that familiar rougish grin appearing on the Cajun’s handsome features. He had cleaned up for the occassion, auburn hair well groomed, stubble shaved smooth, dressed in a dark suit with a blood red tie. A nod to his vampire boyfriend as well as a small tease. It was no secret that Remy liked looking like a snack for his lover in every sense. 

“No place like Madripoor in de world to be sure. Little island with the big bad reputation. Beautiful though, if you know where to look.” 

It was just like Gambit to bring them someplace where they could hide among other dangerous beings. Though Remy had put much of this lifestyle behind him, at least here Norrington was not going to stand out like a sore thumb, making him that much more likely to be attacked. Vampire hunting seemed to be just as popular as Mutant hunting these days...the whole world goin’ to hell and they weren’t even in New Orleans to enjoy it. 

Remy leaned in and stole a kiss from his lover, feeling warm and flushed and just reaching the sweet spot of tipsy. Even more so thinking of what the rest of the night had in store for them. “Penny for your thoughts, cher?”

@ashortdropandasuddenstop​

[artsietango]

Metal: Chapter 1 (Part 1)

Original Work

Subject: Space

Word Count: 1394

Author’s Note: This is technically a rough draft because I only made small edits when transferring this chapter from my notebook to my computer. If you have any questions please shoot me an ask! Character references can be found here.

Tom would never have noticed the intercom had turned on if Joleen hadn’t yelled at him.

“Tech!”

Jumping, Tom lifted his eyes from the circuit board he was working on to glare at the monitor behind him.

“What?” He snapped. He didn’t like being interrupted like that, especially when he was so close to finishing a technical project. Joleen rolled her eyes, saying,

“Mother needs you.” Tom set down his circuit board and screwdriver, muttering complaints under his breath as he fastened his tool-belt and walked out of his workroom, the monitor shutting off as he left.

He jumped into the Workshop, skipping the two steps into the lower level. Though there were no walls except for the surrounding walls of the Underbelly, the three main divisions were separated by levels. Level 3, near the back of the ship, housed the Technical Division, run by Tom and his assistant, Charlotte. Level 2 was the Workshop, which was split into two subdivisions; Forge and Assembly. These two divisions were kept separate by being on opposite sides of the room. And finally, Level 1 was Controls, holding the subdivisions Radio and Flight Captain, where Tom was on his way now.

As Tom reached the stairs descending into Level 1, he said,

“DJ called me down here. Are we having another problem with Mother Skipper?” Chris, Metal’s Flight Captain, also known as ‘Skipper’, turned and smiled sheepishly at Tom.

“Yeah, just a slight glitch with the data readers.” Tom just grunted and laid on the floor, scooting under the control deck. As he fidgeted with the wires, Chris asked,

“Is it fixable?”

“Oh yeah, easy as pie. Well, more like no-bake cookies. But at any rate, nothing too big.” Tom replied. Chris gave a small sigh of relief.

“That’s good. Sorry we interrupted you.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I just wish ol’ Mother would self correct.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t have everything.” Chris replied. Tom replied with an ‘aha’, before snapping the wire panel back into place.

“There, that should do it.” He said, sliding out and sitting up. Chris awarded him with a big smile.

“Awesome. Thanks Tech. Sorry again about this hunk of junk.”

“Hey, that’s why the ship’s called Metal. One of the first, one of the oldest. It’s had worse problems, believe me.” Chris just shook his head as if he didn’t believe Mother would still be in space if she had had bigger problems before turning back to the controls.

As Tom skipped the steps up to Level 2, he gave a quick wave to Assembly and Forge. Only Tessa and Ben in Assembly noticed, smiling and waving back. It was probably best the Forgers, Pip and Damon, couldn’t see him anyways. Better to stay on task than burn a finger or two.

As Tom reached Tech Deck, as Level 3 was commonly referred to, he was met by his assistant, Charlotte.

“Hey, what’s up” He asked.

“Oh, not much,” She replied. “I’ve finished all my pending projects so far.”

“Well that’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” Tom said absentmindedly as he fiddled with his workroom door. Charlotte said,

“Yeah, and I also noticed the circuit board lying on your worktable.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking it might be fried.” He groused, glancing at her as he finally got the door open. “I hate that door jam.” Charlotte took a deep breath, ignoring his second comment.

“Actually, no, it’s not fried. As I passed by I noticed everything was correct except for where your wires were attached, so I swapped them.”

“Did you now?” Tom asked, picking up the circuit board and inspecting it, glancing back and forth between her and it. After a while, he said, “Well, everything looks in order. Now let’s just see if it passes the final test.”

Charlotte watched as Tom connected the wires to a monitor and popped it into the portable console. He clicked the power button, mumbling,

“If this works, I might give you more of these jobs.” Charlotte smiled excitedly at the prospect, though both of their eyes were on the monitor screen. The screen turned blue and the loading bar appeared, making Tom whisper,

“Aw yes, please work. Come on, please work.” They waited breathlessly for five minutes, praying that the loading bar would complete its task. When the computer finally booted, the automated voice said,

“Hello, how can I help you?” Charlotte and Tom both exhaled, cheering at their success.

“Thank God.” Charlotte said.

“You are brilliant Cupcake, and I could kiss you right now if I wasn’t so keen to try this out.” Tom declared, not realizing the affect his words had on Charlotte’s cheeks. Running his hands through his already rumpled ember hair, he said,

“Computer, pull up History of Metal.” The computer whirred, searching for his command before intoning;

Metal was the first ship of Earth’s Iron Fleet. Built by the America’s five years before the Earth’s collapse, NASA planned to launch it three years prior. Due to problems with the original model and the Mother computer system, they launched it two years before the collapse. At first there was overpopulation,-

“Yes, thank you Computer.” Tom said with slight irritation in his voice, glancing hurriedly at Charlotte to make sure she wasn’t suspicious. Seeing as she was nonplussed, he continued.

“Who was the Flight Captain at the time of Metal’s launch?” The computer whirred again before displaying the words and reciting;

Professor Davis Chotsky.

“What was his nickname?” Charlotte piped up.

“They didn’t have that kind of system, or camaraderie around here at that time. At that time, he was Flight Captain, and everyone was considered beneath him.” Tom answered. Charlotte grimaced.

“Jeez.” She said.

“Yeah,” He replied before turning his attention back to the computer. “Computer, who is the current Flight Captain of Metal?” The computer took a minute to think before replying.

Captain Miles Davies.

“No no no no no no.” Tom groaned, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. Charlotte watched as Tom stomped over to the wall monitor behind him, slamming on the intercom button.

“DJ!” He snapped.

“What?” Joleen replied, appearing on the monitor and heaving an enormous sigh of exasperation.

“Get the Library Database on the line for me please.”

“On it.” As Tom waited, Charlotte asked,

“What was Captain Mile’s nickname?” Tom gave her a crooked half smile.

“Captain, because he ran a tight ship.”  She giggled at the joke before a sour looking lady came on the monitor.

“Mr. Lewis, can I help you?” She asked, her voice sounding stiff and official.

“Yes, Miss Marywhether, you can. If you look at your current events database, you’ll find that some of your information is outdated.” Tom replied, suddenly sounding very formal. He thanked his lucky stars that Charlotte didn’t notice how nervous he was about talking to the librarian in front of her.

“Could you tell me exactly what’s wrong with the information?” The reedy librarian asked piously.

“Well, ma’am, do you know who the Flight Captain of Metal is currently?” Tom asked.

“Of course I do. Chris Davies, Miles Davies’ son.”

“Yah-ha, and, um, what does your information say?”

Charlotte tried to stifle her laughter as the librarian turned a dark shade of pink as she read the error. Tom himself was having a hard time concealing his smug smile as Miss Marywhether replied curtly,

“Very well. I will fix this immediately. Thank you again, Mr. Lewis, for your impressive observance of other’s mistakes. Will that be all?” Tom scowled at Marywhether, snapping,

“Yes, that will be all, thank you.” Before he shut off the screen. He turned away from it to find Charlotte laughing quietly. and his glare melted into an amused look.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“It must-bug her immensely-that a sassy seventeen year old-is better at her job-than she is!” She replied between giggles. Tom chuckled along with her.

“Oh it does. Her face shade depends on how big the error I’ve pointed out is.” They both laughed a while before the dinner buzzer rang, and Joleen’s last words to the world of Metal rang through the Underbelly.

“Well folks, it is thirty past nine, and time for me to sign off. We hope you’ve enjoyed listening to the program, and we hope to see you bright and early tomorrow morning. This is Joleen Anderson, and you’re listening to IFBS.”

Tag list: @softlybrrahs

[erisabeisuuwritings]

Drone 1-shot Original

Copyright E.E.D-L Online Author Pename Erisabeisuu

Original work: And yes I took and used already introduced mainstream Sci-fi themes but it’s still original. Rated G for the most part maybe mild cursing. 

Hadrian Morgan opened his eyes slowly blinking in the harsh lights of the lab. Slowly he began to flex his fingers moving on to his toes, followed by his wrists, elbows, ankles, knees, and shoulders. Carefully placing weight on his forearms he slowly began to sit up, flexing his back slowly.

“Dr. Morgan all systems are showing a green-light. You have the authorization to begin full-scale testing.” The voice sounded out of a loudspeaker nearby causing Hadrian to flinch as to boomed into his sensitive ears.

“Confirmed, hearing is at one zero zero percent.” He replied pausing for a moment before continuing, “Vocal patterns are stable and within expected parameters. Please confirm sound range Dr. Reed.”

“Sound range is within human perception with a lilt to the higher scale range.”

“Vision is at one zero zero percent, zoom and wave range are full-scale and controllable.”

“Confirmed.”

Slowly lifting his legs over the side of the gurney Hadrian turned to sit on the edge. After flicking his eyes over to the observational window he flared his nose before sneezing quickly and making a face, “Smell is at one zero zero percent, and I must admit that I had thought antiseptic smelled bad enough before.”

A laugh came through the speaker before he was answered, “Confirmed, and I'll keep that in mind.”

Slowly putting weight on his legs Hadrian stood and began to test his balance. Once he was done with that he took slow steps around the quarantine room. “Motor functions all within expected range. Motor control is fully functional.”

“Confirmed, You have been authorized for entry into the obstacle course.” Dr. Reed announced just as a buzzer sounded along with the hiss of depressurization from a door opposite from the observational station. With one last look around the barren lab room Hadrian turned and exited through the open door.

           The obstacle course was fairly simple just a track with a few vaults and a couple of rock walls. The test ran smoothly and after a few more basic functions were assessed Hadrian was released into the main complex. As soon as he entered the meeting room all the preexisting chatter was instantly silenced causing Hadrian to smile which drew a few light gasps, “Gentlemen and Lady, I think you can all see the experiment was a complete success. The Silverhand project is now fully operational, and now all we need is for the government to approve the expenses for further production and integration.”

           The meeting room remained silent for several more seconds before someone in the group let out a cheer that flowed to the rest until everyone in the room save Hadrian himself were cheering and dancing around in their excitement.  The Silverhand project was working! It was fully operational! They had done it!

***********

           Hadrian stood in front of the mirror with hands spayed on either side of the sink and took in his own reflection. Emerald green eyes stared back at him as he took in all of his features, raven black hair  pulled into a tie at the base of his neck, a smooth jawline, arched eyebrows, and a fairly straight nose all in all he didn't look that bad, but his height was one thing he would always grumble about after all what sort of respectable man was only 5'8? Sighing he shook his head and left the bathroom and came to a stop in front of the double doors leading into the grand ball room that was being used to host what would later be called the party of the year. He straightened up his suit if he was going to do this then he had better be  as sharp and businesslike as possible.

            It had been three weeks since the experiment and it was now time for Dr. Lewis Reed, and himself to give the speech that would either make or break the project, and naturally Hadrian was a nervous wreck. Oh, you couldn't tell from looking at him, but under his calm and confident expression his mind was more active than an agitated bee hive. Lewis looked over at him before chuckling and reaching over to clap his hand against Hadrian's shoulder, “Cheer up mate, tis not the end of the world.”

           Hadrian just looked at him with a raised eyebrow he could tell that Lewis was just as nervous as he was by the way his British accent thickened as well as his word choices, but before he could reply they heard their que and quickly entered the room and made their way to the stage set up just for tonight's demonstration.

           “And here we have our men of the hour! May I introduce Doctors Hadrian Morgan and Lewis Reed!” Announced the Secretary of Defense Adrian Conrad,  “These two men are solely responsible for the Silverhand Project, which will be shown to all of you today. Now for those of you who don't know the Silverhand Project was introduced as an alternative to modern troops, or rather a method for the creation of super-soldiers.”

           Seeing some of the crowd shift uncomfortably at the notion Hadrian spoke up as Lewis powered up all the required systems that made up the Silverhand System or as many of the techs had nicknamed it the Nuada Drone, “The Silverhand System while expected to replace the mobilized troops, will not be replacing the soldiers who will be doing the fighting. Now this may be confusing now but I'm sure you'll all be pleased with the results and understand them in a moment. While I'm speaking Dr. Reed behind me is powering all the components initially needed for the Silverhand System. The system itself has a bio-electrical field to power itself, much like the human body. The system will be piloted by me for this demonstration, and I hope that you all enjoy both this demonstration and the banquet afterwords.”

           He turned and getting a nod from Lewis opened the capsule chamber that was not unlike a gelled over coffin while turning all the fields to the required settings even as Lewis spoke up to give a running commentary, “What Dr. Morgan is doing now is tuning all the settings for the capsule and what we have now nicknamed the Nuada Drone.”

           Seeing the glances and confused expressions on the guests faces Lewis gave a small smirk before continuing, “The system in now fully powered and is only awaiting the pilot entry into the capsule to begin the full-scale linkup.”

           With a last nod Hadrian removed his shoes before hopping up onto the bed of the open capsule before he quickly swung around until he was laying flat on his back, “Now that Dr. Morgan is ready I would like to draw your attention to the covered gurney on the other side of the platform.”  

           Seeing that the guests had done so Lewis closed the lid on Hadrian's capsule and quickly strode over to the gurney. Once he was sure that all the curious faces where focused on him and the gurney he spoke again, “May I now present with great pride the Silverhand System!”

           Pulling off the sheet quickly and revealing the foreign body on the bed which quickly sat up causing the entire audience to gasp in shock, awe, or for some fear. The military representatives went ramrod straight and had their hands hovering over their various hidden weapons. The thing now sitting on the gurney was without a doubt not human. It's skin was the color of ink, so dark that it was almost hard to make out it's features except around it's mouth, palms, and soles of it's feet which where silver in color. It's face seemed human but also seemed to have a slightly elongated jaw and cheek bones that gave the effect of having a snout. It's ears where elongated and came to a point like the elves of legend, but for the fact that they seemed to swivel around as the audience made even the slightest noise.  It's eyes were a solid silver-tinted violet that seemed to glow, and when the thing smiled it showed off needle sharp teeth with even larger canines. When it stood they could see that it was at least 7' or more, but the thing that caused yet another wave of gasps throughout the assembled leaders was when the thing started to talk.

Standing up while in control of the drone Hadrian began the speech that would decide everything, “Ladies and Gentleman.”, here he paused for the gasps, “As I have previously stated I am piloting this drone from the capsule on the opposite side of the stage. This drone is a bio-engineered bio-machine, and has been specifically built for combat and reconnaissance. Through genetic manipulation, and a variety of pre-programmed nanoscopic machines we were able to engineer this construct. And now we will begin the regular pre-op program to confirm full range of functions.”

Here Dr. Reed stepped forward to begin a standard physical for the crowd while starting up the same list as the first time the drone was activated, “Vocal patterns within human perception Dr. Morgan. Please confirm all functions.”

“Hearing currently at five zero percent, increasing function range now.”

“Confirmed, activating music program.”

“Hearing now at one zero zero percent, confirmed the speakers currently located in the great hall are playing 'Fur Elise'.”

They both saw the eyebrows of everyone in the crowd go into their hairlines as they took in his statement seeing as the great hall was currently on the other side of the rather large mansion. Lewis smiled at him before speaking, “Confirmed, now switching off music system.”

“Vision at one zero zero percent, full scale range confirmed.”

“Activating laser system now.”

“Confirming activation, lasers are performing programmed configuration number three.”

“Correct, for the benefit of the audience I will explain that Dr. Morgan has just demonstrated that the drone has full spectrum vision by describing a small laser show displayed in the upper ultra-violet wavelength of light usually invisible to the human eye. Another function is the ability to zoom in on a certain area from up to one kilometer away.”

This brought out grins and impressed looks from the military sections as they started adapting to the idea that it was the scientist in charge of the...drone. It seemed that they where fast getting used to the idea and where very happy with what they were hearing.

“Now releasing pheromones.” Lewis said as he typed on his laptop.

“Raising Smell to one zero zero percent.”, Hadrian announced before sneezing violently causing the crowd to laugh as he scowled at Lewis before literally growling at the man as he continued, “I thought I said not to add Sage to the pheromones.”

Lewis just grinned up at him and said quite flippantly, “Yes you did, but I did it because I know you hate Sage.”

The crowd laughed at the byplay and Hadrian only hoped that it didn't work against them in the long run. Shaking his head in exasperation before continuing with the test he drew in a deep breath through his nose mostly for the crowd's benefit, “Lavender, Sakura Blossom, Juniper, Orange Peel, Vinegar, Beeswax, Dog, Cat, Peanut, Chocolate, Ammonia, Lemon, Pineapple, and...Sage.”

Lewis grinned broadly back at the drone as Hadrian paused slightly before listing the one thing he hated more than antiseptic when it came to the scent department. Shaking his head slightly he turned back to the crowd who mostly all had curious expressions on their faces, “Correct, again for the benefit of the audience I will explain. At the back of the room many of you might have noticed a small black bar that was resting on a table beside a data pad. That bar contains several small samples of synthetic oils that release a set of scents or pheromones in a random order that was transferred to my laptop here to correctly test the drone's sense of smell. Dr. Morgan has just listed the order that the scents where released.”

Again the commentary seemed to be having a positive effect on the military members present as they turned to spot the machine described to them. Both of the doctors on stage saw the glances being exchanged amongst not only them, but the President and the Secretary of Defense as well.

“All functions confirmed, and we will now give a presentation of a previous physical ability test.” Dr. Lewis stated once he was sure he had everyone's attention again. With his comment a projection screen was lowered down from it's slot in the ceiling, and a video showing Hadrian running a military grade obstacle course was shown. Though the ease and speed that the drone was able to finish it with made it seem as if it where a child's rendition of the same course. The presentation was over after a few more words of promotion and explanations of the workings of the system. All in all both of the doctors where looking forward to the official reactions to the project.

           Hadrian easily placed himself on the gurney moving the drone back to it's original position before reaching up towards the small silver circle behind the drones left ear while explaining the disconnection procedure, “The disconnection process is very simple all that the pilot has to do is make sure the drone is either hidden and/or in a resting position, and then simple press the sensor behind the left ear, like so.”

Just after that was said the audience watched the drone go limp, and with a small hiss of air from the hydraulics the capsule opened with a few wisps of mist from the water and oxygen circulation systems escaping as Hadrian sat up back in his own body slowly. As he was removing himself from the capsule and replacing his shoes Lewis stepped forward to give the closing words to their presentation, “Thank you all for staying with us through the entire presentation of the Silverhand System. We hope that you can find the system to be of some use, and now we can all retire to the prepared banquet in the great hall.”

           Even as the two doctors headed out a side door they noticed all the military leaders in the room moving toward the Secretary and the President hopefully to ask for the production and use of the system rather than it's dismantlement.  Entering the great hall for the banquet the two doctors nervously waiting for the rest of the guests as they stood on either side of the double doors. It didn't take long for the guests to start trickling in as they took their places, and finally the president entered with his entourage only for the man himself to pause beside Hadrian, “You have your funding Doctor.”

           Hadrian was elated he had finally done it; the project was completed and now soldiers would no longer die in combat leaving behind their families like his father and his brother. With the drones so many lives would be saved, he only hoped that it would be enough. So with a smile Hadrian Morgan gave Lewis a subtle thumbs up, and spent the rest of the time answering questions from all the curious attendees.

           It would be just over fifteen years later that Hadrian Morgan would look back and remember one particular saying, 'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions', and think to himself that that particular road must have been paved with a miles worth of his own. After all he never knew that day he had almost single-handedly started World War Three.