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roci-by-book · 3 years

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Nemesis Games [WIP]

“Towers of curved ceramic and steel made great piles, denser than mountains. Hair-thin wire hundreds of kilometers long stood on plastic spools taller than Filip.” (5)

“Filip shuffled down the rows of welding rigs and metal printers. Tubs of steel and ceramic dust fine than talcum. Spiral-core mounts. Layers of Kevlar and foam strike armor piled up like the biggest bed in the solar system.” (5)

“At the emergency ward, he found himself wheeled into an automated surgical bed not that different from the ones on the Rocinante.” (158)

“The passage was the usual design of inflated Mylar and titanium ribs.” (221-222)

“The curve was like the airlock on the Roci, and the design of the latch. Martian design. And more than that, Martian Navy.” (222)

"The bridge looked like the Rocinante's younger brother" (222)

“She pulled herself out of her crash couch and walked out to the common room. It was so much like the Roci’s galley that her brain kept trying to recognize it, failing, and trying again.” (262)

“Magnetic pallets locked to the decks and walls in neat rows. She wondered idly where it had all come from, and what promises had been given in exchange. She went to the nearest, plugged the array into the pallet, and popped it open. The crates unfolded.” (263)

“A toolbox in the machine shop had a bent hasp and, given a few minutes, could be forced open. The Allen wrenches inside would open the access panel on the lift wall between the crew quarters and the airlock, which was where the secondary diagnostic handset for the comm array was stored.” (304)

“While she worked, pressing the plastic into the seams, scraping out whatever had gathered there, doing it again, she tried to fit the new information into the larger scheme of things.” (306)

“When the deck was clean, she dropped the spatula into the recycler, stood, and stretched.” (307)

“In her bunk, her fingers laced behind her neck, she stared up at the blackness on the ceiling. The interface screen at her side was dead.” (311)

“The ship lurched hard, snapping the gimbals of the couches forty-five degrees to the deck.” (329)

“One bulkhead failed to open, reporting vacuum on the other side, and they had to backtrack.” (330)

“The comm array was unable to transmit either broadcast or tightbeam.” (330)

“She popped the straps loose and sat up, pulling her leg away from the needle.” (338)

“In the lift, she selected the machine shop and gripped the handholds as the mechanism dropped her down the body of the ship.” (338)

“The machine shop was empty, all the tools locked in place, but with enough tolerance that when the ship lurched, they all rattled: metal against metal like the ship itself was learning to talk.“ (338)

“She stumbled, her head crashing against the metal shelves.” (339)

“All the wrenches, epoxy welders, voltage meters, and cans of air and lubricant were strapped in place, She flipped through the close-packed layers to a line of Allen wrenches and plucked out the 10 mm.” (339)

“She gathered up a voltage tester, a wiring crimp, and a light-duty soldering iron and stuffed them in her pockets.” (339)

“She killed the lift between the crew quarters and the airlock, bracing herself so that the deceleration didn’t leave her trapped in the middle of empty air.” (340)

“The access panel was fifteen centimeters high and forty wide and opened on the major electrical routing through the center of the ship. If she cut though all the cables there with a welding torch, all the traffic would have rerouted instantly to other channels. Apart from a few warning indicators, nothing would happen.” (340)

“The screws were integral to the plate and didn’t come free, but she felt it when the metal threads lost their grip.” (340)

“Ten. The plate came free. She scooped up the handset, checking its charge. The batteries were nearly full. Connection read good.” (341)

“Channel eighteen was a comm array using the D4/L4 protocols that the Rocinante did for broadcast.” (341)

“Hand over hand, she pulled herself along the shaft and then into the corridors.” (342)

“The narrow corridors of the crew deck seemed too wide.” (344)

“The occasional ticking and popping of the expansion joins adjusting to shifts in temperature were like the knocking of ghosts.”(344)

“He undid the straps on his couch, floating forwards.” (346)

“He stopped at the med bay on the way to his quarters.” (346)

“Fred landed feetfirst on the wall, ankles hooked into the handholds like he’d been born in the Belt.”(348)

““All the bunks are the same,” Holden said. “Except mine. You can’t have mine.”" (349)

“The halls had the same anti-spalling covering that the bridge and the mess had, but marked with location codes and colored strips that would help navigate the ship. One line was deep red with HANGER BAY written in yellow Hindi, English, Bengali, Farsi, and Chinese.” (355)

“Across the corridor from Alex, Prime Minister Smith was huddled behind the lip of a doorway.” (356)

“Another burst of fire sang past, tearing long black strips from the walls and deck and filling the air with the smell of cordite.” (356)

“She drank the same version of chamomile tea that the Rocinante made, and it felt like having a secret ally.” (364)

“The mess was empty, the screens turned off and the crew set away.” (364)

“First drawer: gauze and bandages. Second drawer: one-use blood cards for maybe a hundred different field tests. Third drawer: emergency medical supplies like decompression kits, adrenaline shots, defibrillation tape.” (368)

“The medic had her sit up, the cushion of the medical table crackling under her shifting weight. The analgesic was a spray that went in Naomi’s mouth. It tasted like fake cherry and mold.” (369)

“The cabinet doors were open, spilling test cards and preloaded hypodermics across the floor.” (369)

“She fell to the side, her belly to the deck, decompression kits the size of her thumb pressing into her face as Miral writhed around to kneel on her back.” (369)

“She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t, so she just watched as Karal opened the door then closed it behind him. The lock slid closed.” (371)

“Wet with her saliva and no bigger than her thumb, it was the sort of thing any mech driver kept with her. A tiny ampoule of injectable oxygenated artificial blood and a panic button what would make an emergency medical request for an airlock to cycle.” (371)

“Fred held up the coffee cup. The name TACHI hadn’t quite worn off the side, red and black letters half-erased by use.” (381)

“The crash couch was bolted to the deck with thick steel and reinforced ceramic canted so that any direction the force came from was compression on one leg or another.” (407)

“The drawers were thinner metal, the same gauge, more or less, as the lockers. She pulled them out as far as they would open, examining the construction of the latches, the seams where the metal had been folded, searching for clues or inspiration.” (407)

“The tiny black thumb of the decompression kit, she kept tucked at her waist, ready to go if she could just find a way.” (407)

“The mirror was polished alloy built into the wall. No help there. If she could take apart the vacuum fan in the toilet...” (408)

“A simple EVA suit hung there, suspended in the null g by thin bands of elastic.” (423)

“The indicator went from green to red under her thumb.” (424)

“The airlock door closed behind him, the magnetic seals clacking.” (424)

“The lock was small enough he could put flat palms on both doors.” (424)

“Naomi thumbed the emergency override. Three options appeared: OPEN SHIP DOOR, OPEN OUTER DOOR, RETURN TO CYCLE.” (424)

“Without magnetic boots, she’d have to reach it with bare handholds, but she was close.” (426)

“She plucked the black thumb out of her belt, twisted it to expose the needle, and slammed it into her leg.” (426)

“The airlock indicator on the Chetzemoka’s skin blinked, the emergency response received, the cycle starting.” (426)

“There were handholds on the surface – some where deigned, but others were the protrusions of antennae and cameras.” (427)

“Maneuvering thrusters lit along the warship’s side, an ejection mass of superheated water glowing as it jetted out.” (427)

“And then, Mfume was gone, bolting up the ladder toward the cockpit faster than the lift would have taken him.” (431 - 432)

“Holden tapped in an order for another coffee.” (432)

“Finding Sun-yi and Gor wired into gaming googles shooting the crap out of each other in simulated battles – because as weapons techs with no one to shoot at they were getting antsy – stopped being weird and edged into sort of endearing.” (432)

“The hatch to the cockpit was closed, but Holden could still hear the wailing of the raï that Mfume liked to listen to during his shift in the pilot’s seat.” (433)

“Holden sat on the couch beside Fred’s and leaned in.” (433)

“The first disappointment was that the controls were in lockdown. She tried a few passwords – FreeNavy and Marcoisgreat and Filip – but even if she got it right, there was no reason to expect that they’d left the biometrics profiles turned off.” (448)

“The three EVA suits that remained didn’t have batteries or air bottles. The emergency rations were gone. She expected the toolboxes to be gone from the machine shop, but they’d taken out the racks that held them too, the drawers from the cabinets, the LEDs from the wall lights. The couches were all slit open, gel and padding pooled on the deck beside them. The drug delivery system and reservoirs were gone. The only water was in the drives; ejection mass to be spit out the back of the ship. The only food was the residue in the recyclers that hadn’t been processed back into anything edible. The stink of welding rigs and burning still hang in the air, so the air recycler was probably running unfiltered.” (449)

“The deck shook under her, the vibration of thrust setting up resonances that no system even tried to damp down.” (449)

“There should be a way through the machine shop. All machine shops were supposed to be connected at the back.” (449)

“The EVA suits weren’t powered and didn’t have bottles, but they had seals and reinforcement. She could take the cloth apart, and salvage some lengths of wire. Maybe something solid enough to cut with. And could she use the helmet clamps as a kind of vise grip or clamp?” (450)

“In a real ship, it would all have been protected by conduit. On this piece of crap, the wiring had all been fixed directly to the hall with a layer of yellowed silicone epoxy.” (452)

“Across the space, maybe four meters away, an indicator light went amber, and she was falling sideways. With the extra illumination, she could see the round, tree-thick body of the maneuvering thruster. She put out her arms, catching herself against a steel strut.” (452)

“Three sorties ago -- number forty-four -- she’d thought there might be a diagnostic handset. Not that should could speak into it, but she might have been able to tap out a message. But despite the fact that handsets like that were standard and required, there wasn’t one” (454)

“She scrambled down, moving from strut to strut, watching her hands and feet with every movement so she wouldn’t midjudge.” (455)

“The air in her suit didn’t feel stale or close; the carbon dioxide scrubbers worked well enough on passive that she wouldn’t feel the panic of asphyxiation. She’d just gently pass out and die.” (455)

#nemesis games #the expanse #roci by book

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smartsafetyindia · 4 years

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Why must corporate companies upgrade biometric attendance machine in Delhi?

The COVID-19 pandemic has affected the conventional biometric attendance devices in Delhi. Yes, they are mostly the thumb or fingers based attendance marking. It can cause the spread of Coronavirus due to hygiene issues. Sola Smart Safety India has come with the latest biometric attendance machine to handle this attendance management system during Covid-19. They are hygienic and most suitable for…

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#biometric attendance machine #biometric attendance machine in delhi #biometric attendance system

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evohealed · 4 years

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◀ LITTLE TALKS ▶

(( here’s an old mini fic i thought i should post. rex goes to the rebooted zagrs because it has his mother’s voice, and it’s … comforting, in a strange way. it’s the closest confidant he has. enjoy – it’s under the cut. I may write more like this in the future. ))

Rex doesn’t know what to do. He’s feeling so pushed over the edge, and off his shit’s that he doesn’t have a single coherent thought running through his mind, and he’s really, really fucked up. He’s bloody and broken, and even though Providence tried their best to patch him up and his nanites usually helped him heal faster … not everything could go away in an instant. He’ll be fine soon enough, he’s just … scared, and so alone. They wouldn’t even let him leave the building to get some fresh air after the horrific EVO attack he’d just had to deal with occurred – something had totally let some from the petting zoo’s isolation chamber free, and, well … he doesn’t wanna talk about the injuries he sustained from it. He’s got his phone out, and through tear-glazed eyes and a shaky hand, he types out a message to Noah. But … he just can’t find it in him to hit send.

He’s typed, retyped, deleted, typed, retyped, deleted, typed, retyped, deleted … but no matter how many times he does this, no matter how much he wash, rinse, and repeats, he just can’t send it to Noah. Wouldn’t he come off like a total baby? Doesn’t he have better stuff to deal with? Wouldn’t he just be wasting Noah’s time? There’s nothing on his mind but Noah, and how Noah could make him feel better, and how he wants to just hear him … so, while he’s totally out of it, the thumb that’d been hovering nervously over the call button presses down. It’s barely even ringing before Noah picks up, and he’s saying hey, and asking him what’s up. But when Rex doesn’t immediately respond, and all you can hear is him clearly sniffling like he’s gonna cry, Noah starts to ask what’s wrong.

He doesn’t really answer, and it’s not til Noah’s trying to beg him to talk because he can hear Rex crying ( which must be … alarming, because he knows Noah’s never seen or heard him cry before, and he’d always wanted to keep it that way ) that he really realizes Noah’s on the other end. Oh, god he’d heard him sobbing. He can’t bring himself to say anything but a quick somewhat muddled sorry and hangs up the phone, trying to keep back his sobs until he can stop fumbling with his phone enough to hang up, and … when Noah calls back, he just rejects it. He can’t stand rejecting his phone over and over again, and he just wants it to stop. Why did he do that? That was so stupid of him! Sure, he wants Noah around more than anything right now, and he really, really wants to be consoled by his blonde friend, but … he feels too guilty for making Noah worried.

He feels guilty for showing any kind of feelings when he KNOWS better than to do that. He’s just a weapon, he shouldn’t be burdening anyone else with his issues! There’s nobody he should even be talking to about this. So it’s with a bitter sniffle that he turns off his phone to avoid the calls and texts from Noah, and just … sits there, alone in his dark room, alone with his thoughts, and suffers silently. Nothing new to the tall teen, unfortunately – it’s what Providence has ingrained into him, after all.

Honestly … what was he thinking? He couldn’t even go and see Noah, and Noah wouldn’t want to see him like this anyways .. not when Providence was scolding him for how much of a baby he was being, and how he should have done better in handling the attack than he did. They expected him to heal fast, because he usually heals fast, but he’s really fucked up, and he just… can’t! He’s injured way too much and the injuries are way too extensive to even let him function right for a few days, and sure, Providence had great pain meds and medical access, but nothing the med-bay could offer could stop this … painful feeling he had all over his body. There’s no scars or anything ( okay, well. no BAD ones ) but some things were DEFINITELY broken, and .. well. They hadn’t been treated ASAP, so it’s no wonder that everything in his body hurt so fucking badly.

And on top of this all, he’s got a distinct sense of being a burden, and he just knows it has to be true. If it wasn’t true, then … why would they be treating him like this? He knows he should have been better, he knows he should’ve fought better, he knows he shouldn’t have called Noah no matter HOW distressed he got … and yet he did. So … where was he gonna go? What was he gonna do about this? He doesn’t know, so he’s curled up on his bed and looking like a kicked puppy. He buries his face in his knees, just staying in a ball, and … that’s how he stays, for hours on end. He’s sure he’s fallen asleep and cried himself out at one point, because suddenly, he’s waking up, and … Bobo is already asleep. All the lights in Providence are turned off ( well, except the night light rotations .. those are dimmer lights turned on by nine PM so people can sleep here ) and .. well, if those are on, then there’s a good chance that means Cesar is out of his lab. Or, at the very least, asleep – that man sleeps like a rock, so if he was in there, and was still asleep? It wouldn’t matter, he wouldn’t wake him up. So,

Rex, still feeling miserable as ever, decided to get himself up and out of there. He needs something to talk to, something like a parental figure to tell him everything will be okay – but Holiday had already gone to bed for the night, and he’s not about to wake her up. And .. Six was. Six. He wasn’t a very good dad figure at all. And he hated being woken up for anything pertaining to emotions … says he should just get over them. Okay … what does he do, then? Well … he’s decided in an instant, something that just clicks and makes him feel absolutely at peace.

He’s going to talk to ZAGrs.

Honestly, Rex couldn’t say he’d expected the revelation that ZAGrs used his mother’s voice, but … it made a whole lot of sense. The voice, it’d sounded so … eerily familiar from the get go, and now Rex knows why. Cesar had managed to kill her self-aware programming and reboot her since the last time they’d dealt with her, and … well, while Rex certainly felt silly he hadn’t even recognized his own mother’s voice, everything made so much more sense. Now, he knows that it’s not really his mom talking to him, and that she’s not really self aware anymore, but … it’s as close as he’s gonna get to his mom. I mean, it has her voice, doesn’t it?

So … it might as well be the same thing as talking to his real mom. He doesn’t think he’s weird for what he’s about to do with this information and thought process, but he wants someone to speak to, and ZAGrs is as close as he can get to having a parental figure at the moment. ( it’s wack logic, but he’s going to choose to run with it anyways. ) Slowly peeking his head through the door, he checks around for any signs of Cesar in the room. He sees his brother passed out at his desk, drooling everywhere over his papers ( gross, he thinks, but mood ) and the computer turned off. He slips into the room as quietly as he can, if he feels like he can barely move without causing a mess through the room ( seriously, he’s bumping into everything… he really shouldn’t be walking ). And, once he’s in, he takes another look around ( yup, Cesar’s still asleep ) before he puts his hand to the monitor and turns it on with his nanite abilities. ZAGrs ( or … er, computer? isn’t that just what she’s called now? ) is alive and well and functioning, and it greets him.

“Hello, REX. SALAZAR. What is your query?”

Rex, miserable as he is, tenses up, and then … relaxes. He has to remind himself that he’s not gonna be killed by this thing anymore, it can’t try to murder him or genocide all the world’s Nanites … so, he decides to finally try and speak. “Um … Computer, can I … talk to you?”

“Of course you can talk to me, REX. I have many commands you can execute.”

“… Right, um .. I actually wanted to talk to you about .. my feelings. Is that .. okay?” He sheepishly rubs his neck, offering a little forced grin. Wow, okay, he feels like a fool for doing this, and that motion alone hurts to do, but .. he’s still gonna keep it up. So, with a deep breath, a side glance, and pulling a spare chair out, he sits down, and asks his question.

“Computer … Have you … ever felt like you don’t actually matter much?”

“QUERY not recognized.”

“I mean, it’s just … I know I’m not totally worthless, but … it’s hard not to feel that way when you’re someone like me.”

“Your body will likely have value on the black market, if that is what you are inquiring.” “What’s a black market? I don’t – you know what? Whatever, okay. Um.. I just – I’ll just talk about what I came here to. Just .. listen, okay?”

“OK.”

“Okay, w-well .. god, everything hurts, for starters.” He complains, melting into the seat he’s found and leaning back. He lets a pause hang in the air before he continues, only the sounds of the computer’s whirring filling the background, and then he breathes in deeply. He’s just gotta … take a second to breathe. His body still aches, and his head and thoughts are still foggy and he’s still very sleepy, but … he’s gonna continue anyways. “But … really, um .. I’m …” He struggles to find his words, and for a second he really does believe all is lost, and then, all at once, the words start pouring out.

“I … messed up. I know I’m supposed to be a machine. I’m supposed to be a good weapon, a-and I’m supposed to not feel anything. But .. sometimes, the stress can get to me, you know? I don’t know, I know I should be keeping my biometrics up, but … I d-don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I mean, I wanna help people, and I w-wanna help save the earth and stop EVOs from hurting each other, and cure everyone I can, but … b-but I’m not .. good enough! I can’t be a good weapon, but I’m n-not even a normal person, either. And if I’m not a good w-weapon, and I’m useless as a human, then … who am I? What am I? It’s not – I just don’t understand. I know Providence tells me – that Six tells me – that I’m not s'pposed to have emotions, I’m not supposed to get upset like this, and I should just focus on doing m-my job … but I can’t help feeling like I’m a failure because … I am feeling! I have emotions! No matter w-what I try, I just can’t get rid of them! I’m trying my hardest not to, but they’re here, and they’re… I can’t just ignore them!”

He forces himself to pause – he’s back to silently sobbing again, trying his damndest to keep his tears as quiet and hidden as he could. It’s … the first time he can remember crying in a long time – he can usually shove it all down, but now it’s all bubbling to the top. This whole situation just sucks, he just wants to be a normal kid, but Providence wants him to be a pure weapon! Why does he have to have emotions if he was meant to be a weapon? If he has emotions, why is he a weapon? Weapons shouldn’t feel, and humans shouldn’t be able to do … this! “… People tell me I’m a freak. Everyone at Providence is always yelling at me that I’m a weapon, everyone I try to help tells me I’m a freak. I’m getting mixed signals and I – I don’t know what to make of it. I just want to be normal, I wanna be able to talk m-my emotions out, but … But who would I even talk to? Bobo?” He lets out a bitter laugh before continuing, his voice little more than a whisper as he talks to himself.

“I love him, but … He doesn’t take that stuff seriously, he’s not an emotions guy. A-and Holiday can only afford to waste so much time on me, plus I don’t wanna look LAME for her. Six is outta the question, he says I shouldn’t even have emotions. A-and … Noah, he’s … I know he says I can talk to him, but I know I don’t do anything but stress him out. I don’t w-want to ruin anything by telling him everything I’m upset about, I’m probably just being a baby about it. I just –” he pauses, and then … when he sees his brother finally stirring, his words speed up.

“I’m t-tired of being hurt. I don’t w-want to be, but … it feels like nobody cares if I get hurt. ‘Cept maybe Holiday. I heal quickly anyways, m-my nanites will fix it … and if anyone even notices, obviously they don’t care. It’s always about gettin’ back to work as soon as I can. I just wanna... I wanna feel appreciated, I--” He hiccupped again, taking a moment to calm down his sobbing and letting the tears all run out, and then … A pause. He was totally silent for a good few minutes. He gets an idea. It’s not really his mom, but again, it’s … close, right? Maybe hearing her say this would help him feel better.

“Computer … ?”

“Yes, REX?”

He’s cautious as he speaks his next words, “Can you .. say, ‘Rex, I love you’?”

“REX, I love you.”

And that … robotic as it may be, as aware as he is that it’s not really his mom, and that it’s not really anyone real.. it placates him greatly. It’s enough to get him to stop his crying entirely, and it’s not long before he’s taking deep breaths to calm himself down. When he’s finally not crying anymore, he wipes at his eyes with the heel of his palms, and he smiles.

“.. Thank you, Computer.”

“You’re welcome, REX.”

He uses his nanite powers to shut off the computer, and with that, he leaves the room. And, hell, he’s still in immense pain, but honestly? He’s cried himself beyond the point of caring. He simply walks out of the room, and starts to head back to his. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks like absolute shit because of how tired he is and how sleepy that crying made him, so he just kind of planned to go to bed, so he made a beeline for his room. However, just inches away from the door, he heard his name be called out – and he looked around, confused, but saw Noah standing in the hall. Why was his crush friend here?

He doesn’t know, but before he can even say a single word, Noah’s charging at him and tackling him in a hug. He’s surprisingly got enough force to tackle him to the ground – if only probably because Rex was in such horrible shape, and he was clearly beaten up pretty bad, so he winces hardcore when he hits the ground. But Noah’s still clinging on his midriff, saying that he scared him, and clearly, he’s been crying – asking what’s wrong, and why did he hang up? Was he mad? Rex just kind of forced an awkward chuckle as he threaded his fingers through Noah’s hair, and then sighed. “It’s … nothing. I’m fine.” He says, unconvincingly. Noah’s trying to ask something, but Rex just waves it off, smile growing strained.

“Dude, I promise, I’ll be fine. Now, did you … bike all the way here? At like … eleven pm?” A pause, and a very red-faced Noah nods, and then … Rex laughs. He can’t believe the blonde did that, all for him! He feels a little bad about it, but he still ushers Noah into his room, and then … the night isn’t so shitty after that. Noah really helps, but knowing he could talk to Computer and that it couldn’t wouldn’t judge helped even more.

Maybe everything will be fine after all.

#it's old as fuck but you know what? take it.#rex has a breakdown #you can't tell me that the shit that providence forces him to do #i.e. shoving his emotions down the way they do #isn't damaging #angst with a fluffy ending perhaps #◀ Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold ▶ ( character study )

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detginski · 6 years

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A tattoo for a lengthen hand hold

Human!RK900 x reader

tattoo artist au with flower shop au hehehe

writing for self indulgence also bcs muirail gave me this idea and its lit as shit

as usual, word vomit + shitty writing + lining words together to make some sense. mckfing enjoy muah muah

It’s been a slow day at the parlor. You were supposed to have an appointment now but the customer canceled last minute due to some things they can’t avoid. So here you are, hanging on the bench infront of the parlor, smoking and watching the world go by. It was a chilly kind of lazy day, you enjoy the sound of people chattering excitedly at the cafe right down the streets, the soft sound of machine whirring inside the parlor and you look up at the bright and colorful shop right across the street from the parlor. You smiled against your cigarette when you notice the older Anderson talks to his plants as he waters them. Over the time you worked there, you develop a little bit of crush towards that man. It was not your fault that you fell for the charming smile he gives to the customer or when he just looks so serene and handsome when he checks out the flowers at the shop like its the most amazing thing he has seen. Oh how you wished he looked at you like that. Your crushing was made apparent when Gavin pointed it out one day. And everyone in the tattoo parlor sees it and agrees on the fact that you are very much very inlove with the man who only spares you a few words of greeting. Gavin always teases you whenever Nines opens up his shop or whenever he walks by the parlor and if you were tattooing someone at the moment, you would put your tattoo gun down and watch him walk by.

You threw your cigarette butt in the almost filled ash tray beside you and walked across the street towards the shop. You knocked on the window, smiling and waving when the man on the other side of the glass turned to look at you. You could see him restraining himself on giving you an eyeroll. Lets just say your charisma check is always a critical fail the d20 dice whenever you talk to him. Because of your shitty social skill, you weren't exactly on his ‘favourite person’ list because of that one incident where you accidentally embarrassed him in front of his customers. Well, it wasn’t your fault that when you learnt his name is Richard, you thought his nickname was Dick. And that got you downgraded from ‘eh im okay with them’ person to ‘what the fuck is this weirdo still here’ person. But you are still on his ‘tolerable person’ list and you get to call him by his actual nickname, Nines. You see him putting down his watering can and walked out of the shop to lean on the window you just knocked.

“So what secrets did the plants tell you today?” You mentally punched yourself in the face for that shit conversation starter. But you could hear him chuckle at your comment and your heart soared, score one of the geek!, you thought as you light up a cigarette. "If it weren’t for the fact that your shop is right across of mine, I would think you’re either obsess with me or you have a crush on me.” He says as he plucks the cigarette you just lit out of your mouth and smoked it himself. You looked up at him dumbfounded and blushed when you see him smoking your cigarette. Which had touched your lips. You turn head down to watch your feet when he turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised “So, which is it?” he asks as he keeps on smoke the cigarette that’s been on your lip. On your lip, like an indirect kiss or some sort. You are very much freaking out, mentally and physically, over that fact and you just blurt out a, “hey! looks like I forgot I have an appointment right now. Catch ya later, flower boyyo!” You awkwardly gave him a wink and finger guns him before jogging back to your parlor and entered hastily.

Everyone in the shop had seen the exchange, Jason was giggling while he works on a tattoo on a customer, Tina who's working the counter gave you a thumbs up and Gavin openly laughed at your face. “You should’ve seen your face! God that was so priceless. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking how much of a weirdo you are right now, (y/n).” Gavin had laughed so hard he had to sit down to catch his breath. You rolled your eye at your best friend and purposely lean on him with your full weight, "Shut the fuck up, noob. It’s not like you’re any different. Oh Connor, Oh beautiful baby faced Connor” You said in a mocking sweet voice. That earned you a pinch on your thigh. “Okay, now YOU. Shut up.” You mocked a laugh at the man and he just gave you a middle finger. “Get off me you mooch. Unlike you I have a job to do.” You made a face at him and moved to sit at the seat Gavin was sitting, “It’s not like it’s my fault my customer bailed on me.” “maybe its because you have so much geek tattoo on you they’re afraid your nerd would rub off on them.” “Oh shut up, tattoos are art and you shouldn’t insult art.” Gavin shuts his mouth at that and nods with a smile, “Point taken, flower boyyo.” He escaped with a laughter towards the studio for fear you might flung the nearest item towards him.

You were cleaning up after a walk in customer when the bell on the front door rang, signalling someone had entered the parlor. You heard Gavin greeted them and him, chuckling? You inwardly shrug and finish clearing up your area before Gavin called you from the front desk. You answered and grabbed your cup of coffee, sipping on it as you walked from the studio to the front desk only to nearly choke on your coffee when you realize who it was. You coughed wildly into your palm and Gavin’s hand automatically went to your back to give it a pat. You could’ve swore you see Nines’ face changed from irritated look to indifference in mere seconds. You thought he really does dislike you to a certain level that made him do that face when he sees you. You deflate alittle but turned to Gavin to avoid looking like a kicked puppy if you made eye contact with Nines.

“So what’s the sitch?” "First of all, you nerd. Second of all, our neighbour here wanted to get a tattoo.”

“Oh cool-”

“From you.”

You thanked god you had put down your coffee cup because if you were still holding it you're afraid it might've get crushed in your hand. You turn to Nines and your eyes widen in surprise, “Cool cool cool cool cool. So what is it that you want me to tattoo on you?” Gavin gave you a really wide smile and lean in to whisper in your ear, "Pray real hard he gets to take off his shirt.” And slink away as you blushed at that. Now that you’re facing Nines, you could see that he wasn’t irritated at you, he was irritated at.. Gavin? But what did Gavin do that made him the receiving end of Nines' face? you thought but ignored it for the sake of good customer service. Nines cleared his throat and took out his phone to show you a sleeve tattoo that runs from the chest to the back of his hands, “I want to design done, if that’s alright.” you took his phone from his hand and ‘ooh-ed aahh-ed and woaw-ed’ at it all while looking super amazed. "Oh damn, flower boyyo! This is a sick ass design!" you excitedly told him, that gained you a soft smile coming from the man. The design was a biometric design starting from the chest with dashes of flowers in between. "Give me two days tops to make a stencil out of it. Oh my god can't wait to get this done!" You're so excited you forgot who are you tattooing and the fact that, he indeed will take off his shirt for you, when you're tattooing him.

"Can you send me the design via bluetooth?" Nines shook his head and gave you a suave smile, "I'll text it to you. What's your number?" You stopped your movement half way and look up at him, did he just.. did he just casually asked for your number?, your dork brain is screaming at you and your heart is already out of your chest, writhing on the floor because, your crush had just asked for your number. "U-uhh.." You had to clear your throat and shook your head to get your mouth connected with your brain again. "I-I'll type it down on your phone." You quickly typed in your phone and pass it back to him without saving it. You were still trying to comprehend what had happen when you jumped at the sound of your ringtone. "Now you have my number. I'll text it to you later, okay?" He says, still flashing his suave smile and then he winks. He mcfucking winked at you with that smile plastered on his face and for the love of god it has your heart spluttered to a stop. And you only managed stare at him dumbfounded as you watch him walk out of the store.

You turn to Gavin who's watching the entire exchange and you immediately let your freak out, "What the fuck?! What the flying fuck?! Did you see that?! Gav!! Did you FUCKING see that?!" Gavin was also freaking out with you but he's laughing while you're genuinely freaking out. "Ho..ly.. SHIT!!!!! That actually fucking happen!! Oh my fuck!!" Gavin laughed his ass off again for the second time that day and you can’t help but join him laughing. It took the both of you 20 minutes to cool down. “Oh my god. oh my good fucking god. That man is going to kill me one day” “Not if he smash your pelvis first!” with that you smack your bestfriend in the head.

The first text you received from Nines was the picture of the tattoo and a ‘Can’t wait to see you in action’ and that got you squealing and nearly punching Gavin in the face when the other decided its a great idea to chill in your room when you’re excited. Since then, both of you have been casually texting each other, usually Nines is the one initiating the texts. He always sends you a good morning with a picture of his flowers or plants or even a blurry picture of Connor he took which you gave it to Gavin. Finally you’re done with the stencil and it was time you see his naked torso get on with the epic tattoo. Gavin has been teasing you about it since morning and you felt like you haven’t had enough coffee for the day even tho you drank almost 6 mugs of coffee.

You sent a quick text to Nines saying he could drop by anything and you’re just prepping area for Nines when suddenly you felt a presence behind you. Thinking it was Gavin trying to tease you for the millionth time that day, “I know what you want to say, Gav. Can’t I just enjoy my job for once? I mean yeah we both know he has a really hot bod and I’m definitely gonna enjoy my time tattooing him but really? I’m getting real tired of the relentless teasing since last night.” you sighed and turn to the presence behind you only to have your eyes nearly popped out of your socket and your face turning bright red. Nines is just smiling widely and looking very amused. “So when shall we start, (y/n).” the way his voice lowers an octave on your name does things to your heart and to your body. “U-uhh I-in a few minutes! Just give me a moment to prep the area! Wait at the lounge would you?” you nervously blurt out as you escape from him and running straight to Gavin. You put your face on Gavin’s shoulder and screamed into it. Gavin is used to you using him as a ‘venting pillow’ just pats you on the head, “That’s what you get for being such a loser, loser.” you just punched him at the side weakly and Gavin chuckled at that. He noticed that Nines is actively trying to murder him with his eyes from the lounge and he nudges you, “Uhh, apparently flower boyyo is trying to kill me with his eyes. I’m actually scared now. Get off me before he walks over here and stabs me with one of my own needles.” You reluctantly lets go of Gavin and turns to Nines only to see that the man is just flashing you one of his suave smile. “Ugh, if he keeps on giving me that smile I swear I’m going to have a cardiac arrest and high blood pressure.” Gavin only chuckled at that and went back to working on his customer’s tattoo.

You finished prepping the area and called Nines over. “You can take off your shirt.. if you’re comfortable with it.” you added quickly. Nines chuckled and took it off without answering you and dear god good lord almighty all the high heavens sweet baby jesus he is EXTREMELY WELL BUILT FOR A FLORIST, you thought and unconsciously licked your lips. What you didn’t realize was, Nines was watching your expression and his eyes darken for a second at you licking your lips. You took in a shuddering breath and asked him to lean back on the chair, “You ready for some pain, flower boyyo?” “It’s definitely better than you calling me ‘dick’” he winked at you and you just awkwardly laugh at that embarrassing memory. “Aalrighty then.” and with that you start, focusing entirely on doing the tattoo and obviously not on the rigged body you feel underneath your glove clad hands.

The tattoo session you had with Nines was just completing the chest and bicep part, then the second session was the shading of the area and you continuing down to his forearm. And then finally the last session, where you get to hold his hand for the final part of the bionic arm tattoo. During the last few session, you learnt that he had served in the army and the marines. His dad wanted him to become a cop but he felt like the cop life just doesn’t suits him. So he went and sign up for the army then continue on to being in the marine. Hence the wellbuilt body and his knowledge on different types of martial arts and weapons. You, a dork, was intrigued by his stories and his adventures, you wished the sessions never ends. But alas, here you are, almost completing his tattoo.

Gavin could see you pouting the entire morning and watching the time like it had insulted your entire family lineage. He sighed at your slow brain and approached you that morning during a smoke break, “Ask him out for coffee.” “He could get coffee here.” “I mean ask him out on a date, dumbass.” You just turn to Gavin with the most scandalous expression, “I can’t just ask a very attractive man on a date! Have you seen me? I look like a raccoon shedding its fur. If not worse, like a balding raccoon drenched in garbage water. That’s what I look like on a daily basis.” “Not to him, you’re not.” you just rolled your eyes at your bestfriend’s attempt on making you feel better. “No I mean for real. Have you seen the way he looks at you when you’re talking about your geeky shit or that one story you thought was funny but it was not? Yo! It’s like some cliche rom com shit Tina likes to watch.” “As if.” “Believe it or not, I’m just saying. Oop, here comes your flower boyyo. Ask him out goddamnit.” He knocks your shoulder before leaving to attend to his customer. You scrunch your face at Gavin and turned to smile at Nines, “Ready for the final piece?” “I’m ready if you are.” and there he goes, flashing that damned handsome smile of his. Your heart still beats out of your chest at that sight but it dampens alittle at the thought that you won’t be able to talk with him much anymore because he’s not obligated to be stuck with you and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t want to hang out with a dork like you. You sat him down at the chair and he hold out his hand for you, you went from lovesick dork to professional tattoo artist in a second when the tattoo gun is in your gloved hand.

The entire time you held his hand, you didn’t notice Nines took several pictures of you working on his hand tattoo and the fact that he had squeezed your hand to see if you noticed, which you didn’t. Instead of talking, both of you kept silent and the only sound coming from that area was the whirring of the tattoo machine and your fall out boy playlist playing softly on the speaker by the chair. By the time you’re done with his tattoo, you put down the tattoo gun and gently wipe the tattoo. That’s when you realize you held his hand for a very very long time. You wanted to pull your hand away but he clutched your hand in his. You turn up to him, blushing and he leans extremely close to you, “Do you want to go on a date with me?” he caught you off guard and it took you awhile to get your mouth to function instead of hanging uselessly open, you let out an awkward laugh instead. “Y-yeah sure! I mean yeah we could hang out, I’m not exactly a good date material. I mean have you seen me? Haha If you put a wet raccoon next to me I’m pretty sure you’ll me thinking the raccoon looks better than me-” he shut you up by kissing the corner of your lips. Your eyes widen a fraction and thank god you were sitting if not you’d be tumbling down on the floor by how much your knee shakes. Instead of you leading him to the front desk to settle his last tattoo payment, he pulled you up and both of you held hands the entire way to the front desk. He passed you the cash and leans towards you to plant a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll text you the details.” and with that he gave you a final wink and walked out of the store.

It took you a full 10 full minutes to come back to life and freak the fuck out.

Gavin is just snickering and happily collects 10bucks from Jason and Tina. “Told you they won’t make the first move.”

#detroit become human #dbh imagine #dbh rk900 #dbh rk900 x reader #hehehehehheheh finally i post something #wow i wrote #alright guys #as per usual #enjoi my shit #i leb u guys for reading this #kudos to those who read lmao

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jigneshthanki-blog · 5 years

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Tech-Driven Disruptions Expected in the Marijuana Industry

With the legalization and decriminalization of the consumption and possession of marijuana in Canada and the United States, the cannabis industry has become a prime target for the growth, disruption, and innovation of tech-based advancements. Although this socioeconomic revolution may have been unexpected, it cannot be overstated, as numerous sectors within the industry are currently experiencing major disruption as a direct result of the intersection of legal cannabis and tech services and products.

The applications for these tech advancements is staggering, as cannabis operators are not only catching up with and adopting cutting-edge technologies, but they are also inventing their own for the industrial, agricultural and supply chain management sectors. Now, while major disruptions in these areas, such as intelligent lighting, product testing technologies, and industrial hemp processing, are pulling major attention, there are smaller tech-driven disruptions expected to hit the market soon. This will include things like social networks, new financial tech support, and even self-serving vending machines and it is without a doubt that these new technologies will continue to be refined, re-imagined, and re-introduced over the coming years as more companies and brands get in on tech and cannabis.

What Is Disruptive Tech?

In a lot of cases, large and established companies often cater to their largest and most demanding customers, leaving smaller businesses to utilize disruptive technology to target clients or customers that get overlooked. For companies that are willing to take risks, incorporating disruptive technologies into their business operations early on, can become innovators of the technology and gain an edge in the market as a result. It is important to note, that disruptive technology does not have to be better than what is currently offered on the market nor does it have to be completely different, it just has to be something that significantly alters how the majority of companies do business. Common examples of disruptive technology include eCommerce platforms, smartphones, and smart speakers.

Companies Who Are Using Disruptive Tech to Gain a Foothold in the Cannabis Market:

Leaf Trade:

consumers who want to purchase cannabis have access to easy-to-use mobile applications and online ordering websites, however, dispensaries, do not. Rather, a lot of the time dispensaries are stuck ordering through e-mail or text messages. LeafTrade looks to remedy this through its centralized wholesale platform which allows vendors and dispensaries to browse trending products, request samples, streamline order fulfillment, utilize loyalty programs, and have direct access to reports and analytics.

CannaFundr:

CannaFundr is aiming to bridge the gap between connecting investors and founders within the industry. Their platform connects entrepreneurs who need capital to individual investors. Investments can range anywhere from $2,000-$10,000.

Kannatopia:

while cannabis is becoming more socially accepted in mainstream society, not everyone is comfortable with it and as such, not everyone wants to share their experiences or opinions through traditional social media channels. Kannatopia looks to answer this by providing users a safe space to share reviews, talk about strains and accessories, even leave opinions about dispensaries and view guides. Businesses are also able to create profiles for advertising purposes and customer engagement.

Green Thumb Industries:

launched back in 2014, this national marijuana cultivator has become one of the largest in the Chicago area with over 600 employees. The company uses data-driven analytics to create strains that meet consumer demand.

What Are 5 Trends We Should Look Out For in 2019?

1. Self-Serving Smart Vending Machines Will Pop Up.

Although a lot of companies in the industry have tried creating vending machines, many have failed and given up due to technical glitches in design or software. However, a company called American Green has made a prototype that will check a customer’s ID using biometric verification, eliminating the need for the vending machine to have a human seller present. This smart dispenser is automatic, self-serving, and comes with a wide variety of features including card readers, biometrics, payment options, cameras, speakers, touch screens, keys, and expandability.

2. The Cannabis Supply Chain Will Become Unified.

As licensed growers are still figuring out how the business side of the cannabis industry works, sellers, distributors, and growers are all coming together to hash out what business practices need to be upheld under one unified supply chain. This is occurring because state-by-state legalization is causing the industry to scale up, fast.

3. The Mobile Marketplace Will Become Filled With App-Based Applications.

As the cannabis industry continues to ramp up, the mobile application marketplace is only going to become more saturated with marijuana-specific solutions. As of right now, a simple IOS or Google Play search brings results in almost every major category: education (Leafly), social media (MassRoots & HighThere!), Eaze (delivery), Weedmaps (local dispensary connection), AuroraMJ (Canadian medical cannabis), and even marijuana growing via IoT (Grobo).

4. Federal Prohibition May Be Circumvented by Fintech Support.

More and more companies are providing solutions to dispensaries and vendors who are currently unable to open bank accounts and use regular payment systems for their sales. For instance, some dispensaries have cashless ATMs on-site which provide a voucher for that specific dispensary. There are more digital wallets popping up as well like PayQWick(similar to PayPal) and POSaBit (blockchain) and even a debit card specifically built for the cannabis industry – CanPay.

5. There Will Be New Social Networking Sites Created.

Expect more social networks to pop up this year, as more individuals will be requiring places to express their opinions on cannabis-related topics. As of right now, there are a couple of dozen already in operation, such as WeedLife, GrassCity, Duby, HighThere, Joint Buds, MJLink, Weedable, CannaSOS, and MassRoots.

As the cannabis business keeps on developing and be plagued by cutting edge innovation, an ever-increasing number of organizations are urged to get into the market. With our experience, learning, and neighborhood nearness in the Western market, Let’s Nurture can help hoist your cannabis organization to the following dimension by utilizing shrewd arrangements.

Hoping to get into the cannabis market and however don’t know where to begin, Contact Us now for help.

#cannabis #Canada #USA #letsnurture #cannabis market #Marijuana Industry

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timeaccessstoreblog · 3 years

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Time Access offers Attendance Punching Machine which has several advantage. you can manage and monitor employees in and out time. Biometric access machine helps in better evaluation of punch time. Get time access machine here. Visit:- https://time-access.store/product-category/biometric-attendance-machine/

#Attendance Punching Machine #Fingerprint Time Attendance Device #biometric time attendance #biometric thumb machines

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ubuntu-server · 2 years

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Lenovo X61 – Update

A quick update to this post. As of Tribe 5, both audio and wifi work flawlessly in the default configuration. With the manual installation of ThinkFinger for the biometric thumb scanner, absolutely everything on the machine is working as expected. I’m really liking the form factor of this laptop, it’s going to be great for conferences and travel. –jeremy

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applicationlettering · 3 years

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Benefit of Integrated HR Solution With Payroll, Leave, HR Functions and Fingerprint System

Presentation:

Having an appropriate HR arrangement is a vital errand for the HR leaders to deal with their workers.

The essential occupation of HR chief is to oversee representatives day by day participation, for example the representatives consistently Time IN and Time OUT. There are different ways for it. Generally the organizations utilizing manual punch card machine, later vicinity card framework/standardized tag card framework was set up. Yet at the same time there was an issue of mate punching (making intermediary participation for different representatives). To resolve the issue Biometric Fingerprint framework has presented which is extremely quick/exact and productive.

When workers TIME IN and OUT planning caught by a machine then it must be connected to a Time Attendance Software to create the helpful participation reports. Those determined participation subtleties should be connected to finance programming for the worker pay estimation. Notwithstanding that there is a need to keep up with worker leaves like yearly leave, clinical leave, neglected leave, and so forth

Assuming a HR director has all the above arrangements with various merchants/distinctive stage then it will be undeniably challenging to keep up with and work. There will be parcel of hiccups to incorporate the distinctive programming and all the more significantly being the data set isn't coordinated the recently join/leave representative subtleties should be entered on numerous occasions in various programming.

So it exceptionally productive and financially savvy to have an incorporated HR arrangement which contains unique mark time recorders (ideally), time participation, leave, Payroll and HR programming.

Unique finger impression Time Recorder: It is exceptionally productive to make some unique mark memories recorders to follow the representatives participation as opposed to having manual punch card. The greatest benefit of utilizing the unique finger impression framework is the workers can not do the pal punching (making intermediary participation for different representatives).

Generally in the vast majority of the finger impression time recorder, Up to 3 fingers for each worker can be enrolled. While doing participation the representative can utilize any of the finger to do timing. The reason for enrolling 3 fingerprints is assuming any one finger has issue due to harmed/cut/grimy then the worker can utilize elective finger. So it is smarter to make some unique mark memories recorder with higher limit. Normally the time recorder will have the limit of 1500/3000/5000 unique mark formats.

It requires around one second to confirm the representative finger, once checked the worker id, Date and time will be recorder into the gadget interior memory. Additionally it is great to have a gadget which can store more records. Overall the vast majority of the unique finger impression time recorder can store 20,000/30,000/50,000 records. When the records arrive at the breaking point the new record will naturally overwrite the absolute first record. Those records can be downloaded to the Time Attendance Software through worked in Network card or by means of Thumb Drive.

Time Attendance Software:. Data from finger impression time recorder can be moved to the Time Attendance Software which will compute the valuable data like Lateness, Overtime, recompenses, and so forth

A fun time participation programming ought to have the choice for various shift designs, Supports limitless turn obligation list, Auto-shift include (System auto-allot working hours bunch dependent on schedule), Flexible working hours highlight, Scheduling working hours bunch highlight (No decent working example)

Organizations are paying every day remittances like shift recompense, dinner stipend, transport remittance to the workers dependent on certain conditions. For a model an organization might jump at the chance to pay $5 for night shift laborers or an organization might get a kick out of the chance to pay $2 who is working over 5 hours of additional time. So the time participation programming ought to have all the above highlights.

A decent programming should accompany well planned valuable reports like Daily participation report, Individual participation report, combined reports which unites the Late comers, Early Leavers, Absents and passed up a great opportunity punching, Lateness rundown report and Working hours synopsis report

Finance Software: Finance programming is the one which figures the representative pay rates. An elegantly composed finance programming ought to have the underneath choices leave application for food poisoning.

The representative might be paid by hourly rate/every day rate/month to month fixed premise. Other than the representative essential compensation, the workers additional time, day by day stipends should be connected from the time participation programming. The representative might have a few increments or derivations like settlement ahead of time, clinical case, extraordinary remittance, and so on What's more the representative neglected leave, delay and early passing on should be deducted from his compensation.

Various nations have their own calculation for tax collection and fortunate assets. So the finance framework ought to follow the neighborhood unofficial law for pay computation.

At last the finance ought to ready to create a compensation slip for individual representative with all his compensation subtleties which can be imprinted in an A4 size paper or fixed compensation slip paper.

Furthermore finance programming should have valuable reports like, Monthly Salary Summary Report, Overtime Payment Report, Taxation Report, Yearly Summary Report, and Monthly Reconciliation Report.

Leave Module: A leave module either can be worked in with the finance framework or it very well may be a different Electronic Leave Application Portal.

Leave Module worked in with finance framework: The HR Executive necessities to refresh the representatives Annual Leave, Medical Leave, Unpaid Leave, Maternity Leave, and so forth in to the framework physically.

Electronic Leave Module: The representative can apply their leaves electronically online by means of internet browser. Those applied leaves can be supported by individual endorsing officials by means of on the web. This is paperless, helpful quick and simple.

A decent pass on framework ought to have the choice to set Leave Eligibility for various gathering of representatives and the Annual leave and Medical Leave procured until the present time ought to be allocated naturally.

There should be a choice to convey forward the equilibrium yearly pass on to the following year. What's more the leave module ought to have the helpful reports like Leave History and Leave merge report to see all sort of leaves taken.

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smartsafetyindia · 3 years

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Face Recognition Biometric system Solution to Lower the Risk of Covid-19 Infections.

The pandemic is not over yet as every day we hear about new corona-virus. The Covid-19 has changed the lives of everyone. We all are aware of the protocols of Covid-19, as of now the organizations have also resumed and asked their employees to work offline. But it is becoming mandatory to follow the safety hazards. One of which is marking attendance, earlier employees use a thumb or fingerprint biometric Attendance system to mark their attendance, but the ongoing pandemic situation doesn’t allow us to take this risk of getting infected.

Smart Safety India Supply the advanced technology-based face recognition system, Biometric Attendance system for your office, school, organization, etc at a reasonable prices. Face recognition biometric system is in one solution to it. It works by simply showing the face in the system and the system triggers it automatically and attendance is market. It is easy to use and reliable.

Some of its common features are:

Face Mask screening – the machine screens your face and cross-check it with the facial expression from the data stored.

Touchless – the major benefit of facial recognition is that it is a touchless device, hence safe to use.

Scalability – while taking the facial expression it records the scalability of the face.

Selfie attendance – this biometric system acts as a selfie attendance which will motivate employees to look good and cheer them up in the morning.

Face detection – this device detects your facial expression and matches it up with the database.

Body temperature – the additional benefit of this machine is that it tells the body temperature of the employee as well which will let the HR person know whether the employee is suffering from fever or not. If any employee is suffering from fever then they can ask the employee to take leave, which will secure the other staff members.

Some of the benefits of adopting the Long Range face recognition system are:

Cost-effective – It is cost-effective as once installed can be used for years and require less maintenance.

Accuracy – It gives accurate matches and reduces the proxy as well. The system is linked to payroll which also comes accurate as per the attendance.

Save time – it saves the time of the employee as sometimes one can’t mark the attendance due to a cut in the finger or thumb in the thumb recognition system.

Technology is growing at a faster pace and this advanced technology helps us to resolve many of our problems. With time we should adapt to the new system of attendance which will increase the morale of the employees and productivity in the office. This system can be used in schools, offices, banks, government organizations, and many other places.

#face attendance system #Face attendance machine #biometric Attendance machine #biometric Attendance system #Technology #startups #Touclesstechnology #facereader

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a-splash-of-stucky · 7 years

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A Messed Up Place | Nine

Pairings: Bucky x Reader || Steve x Reader

Summary: A mission goes very, very, wrong.

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. BLOOD AND GORE AND VIOLENCE (it’s a battle scene, y’all). Kind of graphic? Tread with caution, anyhow.

Notes: Uhhhh I don’t think ‘sorry’ cuts it this time. *mentally gearing myself up for the berating i’m about to endure*. Written for @hellomissmabel‘s challenge

Also — I have no clue how to write an action scene, no clue whatsoever. Hopefully, it’s not too shit.

And as a final point: for those of you who were around when I did that AMUP spoiler thingie, this is the BIG EVENT™ I talk about in question 16.

“There’s two weeks left to the wedding and I still have to write a goddamn speech,” Nat grouses, plopping herself onto a kitchen stool and bringing her coffee mug to her lips.

“There’s two weeks left to the wedding and I still need to find a bridesmaid’s dress,” Wanda groans, gazing mournfully into her cereal.

Sam sighs, rubs the back of his hand over his eyes sleepily. “There’s two weeks left—,”

“Don’t you say anything, Wilson,” Bucky growls threateningly, sending Sam a vicious side-glare.

“I was gonna say two weeks left before all this fuss is over!” Sam protests, holding one hand up in defeat. “Go make your oatmeal, old man,”.

“Fuck you,” Bucky grumbles, turning his attention back to the stove and stirring his breakfast around with a wooden spoon.

It’s Saturday morning brunch time at the compound. This is one of those rare weekends in which everyone is on-site and not halfway across the world on some mission or other. Bucky’s fixing himself some oatmeal, and will probably do some eggs, or maybe pancakes after. He’s feeling hungry this morning and what the hell — it’s brunch.

“Two weeks and then Steve will stop being a low-key bridezilla,” Sam murmurs absentmindedly, as he pops a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster. “Or is it groomzilla? Does that even exist?”

Wanda chuckles.

There are indeed exactly 14 days left before your wedding and Bucky…is not exactly sure how he feels about that. He’s got his suit dry-cleaned, his dress shoes polished and a speech half-written, because he’s Steve’s best man, but something feels off. He’s not as joyful about the occasion as he probably should be — and understandably so, in his opinion.

“Bucky, could you hand me my coffee?” Wanda asks sweetly.

Bucky turns back to look at her over his shoulder. She gazes back at him with wide eyes and bats her lashes pitifully.

“Fine,” Bucky grumbles, leaning across the countertop to pick up Wanda’s pink mug before handing it to her. “But only ‘cause your ankle is injured. M’not going soft on you,”.

Wanda rolls her eyes. “You’re not going soft on me, you’re going soft on everyone,” she retorts.

“Hey!” Bucky protests.

Everyone looks up as heavy footfalls thud down the corridor. Steve strides briskly into the kitchen, tablet tucked under one arm and jaw set in a grim line. Bucky is immediately on edge; the expression on Steve’s face does not bode well. Bucky switches off the stove and turns around to face Steve, leaning his hip against the countertop.

“We’ve got a situation,” Steve says, his tone clipped.

The atmosphere in the room immediately changes. All traces of grogginess evaporate. The room snaps to attention.

“What is it, Cap?” asks Sam.

Steve purses his lips as he whips out his tablet, turning it on and tapping some buttons on the display.

“I’m sending you a briefing pack now,” he explains, “Biochemical facility in Kinshasa — government-funded, pretty buried in the books — was fully evacuated two hours ago. No confirmed reason as to why,”.

“Why’re we concerned about it?” Wanda asks, looking at Steve curiously.

“Intel suspects a chemical leak,” Steve answers.

“Do we know what kind?” asks Nat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That’s the thing,” Steve sighs, raking his fingers through his hair, “They’re a biochemical research centre, but behind that front they’re rumoured to be developing bio-weapons for use in the military,”.

“Shit,” Sam mutters, “I don’t like where this is going,”.

“Me neither,” Steve admits, “Funded by the government — of the DRC, no less — so who knows what they’ve got going on in there. Intel says there’s a strong possibility of the leak being a gaseous neurotoxin,”.

“So gas masks, then,” Bucky murmurs, mostly to himself. He winces internally at the idea. He doesn’t like wearing gas masks — or masks of any kind, for that matter. They remind him of the restrictive muzzle that his handlers made him wear.

Steve’s eyes flick to his, grim understanding in those bright blue irises. “Yeah. We’re not taking any chances,”.

“What’s the call, Cap?” asks Sam.

“Our priority is to determine whether or not there is a leak and if so, contain it as much as possible,” Steve replies, setting his tablet on the kitchen island and resting his palms on the edge of the counter. “Intel states full evac, but it can’t hurt to give a cursory sweep. Sam, Nat, Bucky, you’re coming with me—,”

“Hey!” Wanda interrupts.

“Wanda, you’ve injured your ankle,” Steve says, voice unforgivingly commanding.

“It’s practically healed,” she whines, “I can—,”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t risk it,” says Steve, his tone inviting no further protests. “We could use your help, but I don’t want to risk aggravating your injury,”.

“Fine,” Wanda grumbles, pouting and crossing her arms over her chest. Bucky smirks, despite himself.

“Anyway, like I mentioned, they said this was a full evac,” Steve continues, “Which means no personnel guarding the facility itself. We bust in, sweep the site, get out as soon as possible. Leak is supposed to be coming from south wing, basement two, lab 4. Blueprints are included in the briefing pack,”.

“This pack seems very skimpy on the info, Steve,” Nat comments, as she thumbs through the documents on her phone. There’s a small crease between her perfectly manicured brows.

Steve sighs. “I know. S’not a lot to work with, but if it is a neurotoxin leak, then we need to jump on it as soon as possible,”.

“So what’re we waiting for?” asks Bucky, pushing away from the counter.

Sam clasps his hands together and rubs them excitedly. “Avengers, assem—,”

“No,” Nat interrupts sharply, glaring at Sam through narrowed eyes. “We do not say those words,”.

Steve chuckles. “Suit up, guys. Wheel up in 15,”.

———————————

Bucky downs his — somewhat cold — oatmeal in four and a half mouthfuls, then makes his way over to his weapons locker. Everyone living in the compound has one of their own. It’s something of a glorified storage room, filled with an assortment of guns, knives, grenades and whatever toys Stark decides to put together.

Of course, Bucky keeps some of his gear stashed in various hiding places in his room, and around the compound in general — a guy’s gotta be able to defend himself in the event of a surprise attack — but the majority of his things are kept in his locker room, under lock and key. It’s an unassuming door, marked with a simple grey plaque with ‘Barnes’ inscribed on it in black font. He punches in his key code, lets FRIDAY do the biometric scans, then twists open the handle.

He pulls on his uniform with a comforting familiarity, tightening straps and snapping buckles into place. His gear is nowhere near as tight and unforgiving as what HYDRA forced him to wear, but still protective in its own right. Bucky runs his fingers over his — disturbingly large — collection of knives and picks out the few he wants to bring with him, tucking them into various hiding places on his form. He tucks a couple of guns into their holsters, slides a couple of grenades into his utility belt and finally, secures his hair back into a neat bun.

Satisfied with his preparedness, he opens the door to his locker room, about to step out into the hallway.

He pauses.

Steve is on the other side of the door, his back to Bucky. He’s fully suited up, sans his harness and shield. Bucky notes with approval that he’s wearing the navy suit. Good. More stealthy. The red might be Cap, but it’s too flashy for Bucky’s liking. He’s speaking in hushed tones to someone. When Steve shifts to the side a little, Bucky gets a glimpse of your hair. Bucky hastily ducks back into his locker room, pulling the door closed after him. He doesn’t close it all the way, though, allowing him to listen in on the conversation.

“…coming with you!” you’re saying.

“No, sweetheart,” Steve sighs, “You can’t—,”.

“Like hell I can’t, Rogers,” you hiss. “If this is a neurotoxin leak, my immune system could resist it!”

“Yes, but you’ve not got enough experience, honey,” Steve says, tone calm and placating.

“But I could—,”

“I know, but you’ve not had enough training with us as a team,” Steve explains, “Bucky and Nat and Sam have come with me on hundreds of missions — we’re like a machine, at this point. And, for a mission like this, with limited intel and one hell of a time crunch, I—I just don’t have time to come up with a proper attack strategy, so you just can’t come. I’m sorry,”.

You sigh heavily, tipping your head forward to rest your forehead on Steve’s muscled bicep. “I know,” you sigh, “I just wish you didn’t have to,”.

Bucky takes that as a good enough opportunity for him to step out. “Bad guys really don’t have any consideration whatsoever for superhero weddings, huh?” he remarks.

You and Steve pull apart, a tight smile on both your faces. “Evil waits for no one,” Steve quips. He turns to you, gaze softening as he hooks his arm over your shoulders. “You can come with us next time, ‘kay?”

“Fine,” you grumble. The corner of your lips twitch into a smile when Steve presses a kiss to your temple.

Something inside Bucky’s chest tightens.

Bucky would say that it’s his heart, but his heart doesn’t really exist anymore.

“Just don’t do anything stupid, punk,” you mutter, petting Steve on the cheek affectionately. “Least not ’til you get back,”.

Bucky snorts. It seems that some of his overprotectiveness has rubbed off on you.

Steve chuckles, catching Bucky’s gaze and shooting him a mock glare, before turning his attention back to you. “How can I?” he replies, “M’ leaving all the stupid here with you,”.

You jaw falls open in feigned surprise as you give Steve a playful swat on the arm. Bucky laughs, amused by your antics. You catch Bucky’s eyes and give him a tender smile, a hint of wistfulness in your gaze.

“You keep safe too, okay, Buck?” you murmur, reaching your free hand out to touch Bucky’s shoulder. “I need my groom and my best man around for this wedding to happen,”.

Again, that weird tightening feelings comes over Bucky’s chest.

“Sure doll,” Bucky replies, placing his hand on top of yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll do our best,”.

———————————

It’s a bust mission.

It’s a fucking bust mission.

That’s all Bucky can think of as he ducks behind an overturned desk, in order to shield himself from the onslaught of bullets raining down on him.

To be fair, it hadn’t started off as a bust mission.

The facility had indeed been abandoned when the team arrived; not a human soul around for miles. The sun had long disappeared from the sky when the wheels of the quinjet touched the ground, approximately four kilometres south of the facility. The plant itself is located several miles northeast of Kinshasa, on the periphery of the Congo rainforest. After doing their final weapons checks, the team had trekked through the forest, entering the compound via the main gate, since they hadn’t needed to be particularly stealthy with their entry.

The layout of the facility is rather simple. Each wing is shaped like a hollowed-out square, with a grassed courtyard in the centre of each one. Offices, laboratories and storage rooms are arranged on the out-facing wall, whilst essential wiring and plumbing has been built into the wall that overlooks the courtyard. It’s a rather drab building, all hard edges and bland concrete. The compound is split into a north and south wing, each four floors high; two aboveground, two below ground.

Once inside, the team had split up. Sam and Nat had gone downstairs in search of the lab, so as to determine whether or not a leak had taken place. Bucky and Steve had covered the first and ground floors, with the two aims of firstly, ensuring that no civilians were still trapped in the building and secondly, determining whether or not there were places where a gas could have escaped the confines of the building.

Things had been going to plan, up until about five minutes ago, when the entire facility was plunged into darkness.

Never a good sign.

Before Steve could even call Sam and Nat to reconvene, ominous clanking noises had rattled through the building. Panels on the wall had retracted, revealing the mounted machine guns hiding behind them.

Aforementioned guns are currently raining hellfire on Bucky and Steve.

A trap. They’ve walked straight into a trap. And, if they’re not smart about it, it’s going to be a one-way trip.

“Sam? Nat?” Steve shouts, yelling into the comm piece on his wrist.

“Kinda busy here, Cap,” Sam huffs. In the background, Bucky catches the rhythmic rat-tat-tat of gunfire. Then again, that could just be the guns on his end.

“Is it safe to remove gas masks?” Steve yells, dodging left behind an office desk as a spray of bullets narrowly misses his ear.

“Yeah. There’s no leak, Cap,” Nat says crisply.

Thank fucking god.

Bucky rips off his constrictive gas mask and slides it across the floor, away from him. “I’m gonna fucking kill this intel person!” Bucky shouts to Steve, as he moves into a crouching position behind the desk.

“Not if I get there first!” Steve yells back.

“We were fucking played,” Sam grunts, “Fuckin’ played,”.

Bucky shakes his head in frustration. He can think about killing intelligence personnel when he’s gotten them out of this life-or-death situation. For now, he closes his eyes and listens to the rhythm of the bullets as they’re spewed from the guns. He didn’t manage to count how many there guns he’s dealing with before he was forced to take cover, but he estimates that there must be at least six on this corridor alone.

It’s a situation that fucking sucks. He and Steve are on the topmost floor of the north wing, which is comprised entirely of offices. Sam and Natasha are about as far away as they can be, in basement two of the south wing. The team has been split up and it’s going to be one hell of a challenge to make it back to each other without being ripped to shreds by these bullets.

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces himself to think logically. The guns currently firing at him and Steve are mounted on the wall facing the row of offices. Each gun is fully automated and must be mounted on some sort of pivot, in order to be able to swing from left to right. Bucky studies the wall behind him, which is steadily becoming riddled with bullet holes. The holes themselves seem to be in a fairly consistent band, thereby indicating that the guns have a limited range of movement; they’re only moving from side-to-side, and not up-and-down. There also seems to be something of a blind spot between each gun, because there’s a thin column of wall which has not been chewed up by bullets whatsoever.

Perfect. That makes his life easier.

That means that Bucky only needs to worry about the gun directly in front of him. He times how long it takes for the bullets to move from right to left, then back again. 12 seconds, tops.

Bucky pulls out a knife from the sheath on his thigh, feeling its weight in his palm. He twists his body, preparing himself to launch from behind the desk at full force when the window of opportunity presents itself. Bucky waits until the bullet spray has passed the leftmost extreme of its arch then jumps, vaulting over the desk like the graceful assassin he is. He sprints like a madman for the gun mounted on the opposite side of the corridor.

Bucky leaps onto the wall above it to save himself from being clipped by a bullet, then jams his knife into the turning the mechanism, so as to stop the gun from being able to rotate. Once he’s immobilised it, Bucky grips the barrel in his metal arm and physically wrenches it upwards, deforming the metal into a ninety degree angle. The machine lets out a few half-aborted clicks before sputtering out completely.

Bucky removes his knife from the pivot and is about to leg it to the next mounted gun when all of a sudden, the gunfire ceases. His ears ring with the ghostly echo of gunshots.

“What…the hell just happened?” asks Sam.

“Bucky disabled one of the guns,” Steve replies smoothly, appearing from behind the mangled desk he used as cover, one wrist held up to his mouth. “Whether or not that’s connected to the rest of them stopping I don’t know, but that’s what’s happened,”. As he speaks, Steve swings his shield around and clips it into the harness on his back.

His shield. His vibranium shield. The one that’s bulletproof.

“Hey, why couldn’t you have handled the gun dismantling?” Bucky asks, as he dusts himself off and re-sheathes his knife. “You got that shiny shield of yours to protect you for a reason, right?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Too tight a space and too many bullets flying ‘round. The ricochet could’ve hit you. ‘Sides, I didn’t have enough room to swing it properly,”.

“Excuses, excuses,” Bucky grumbles.

“Boys,” Nat interjects, “I don’t think Barnes crippling one gun would’ve shut down the entire system,”.

“And I take it you did nothing on your end, Romanoff?” Bucky asks, as he and Steve begin to cautiously make their way back to the stairwell at the end of the corridor.

“We did nothing,” she confirms.

“And it’s not ‘cause they ran out of ammo, either,” Sam adds. Bucky glances to his right as they pass one of the guns. Wilson’s right.

“So…what?” asks Bucky, “You saying someone shut it down?”

“The question is: who?” Steve murmurs softly, a tense note to his voice. A vein in his neck twitches and his jaw is tightly clenched. He bring his wrist comm to his mouth, “Sam, Nat, if you’re finished downstairs, meet us on the ground floor. Bucky and I will—,”.

He gets cut off by the sound of shattering glass.

Bucky curses and drops into a defensive crouch, a knife appearing in his flesh hand, his metal hand hovering above the holster on his thigh.

“Cap? Barnes? What’s going on?” Sam asks worriedly.

Though the hallway is in darkness save for the measly emergency lights signalling the fire escapes at either end of the corridor, Bucky can still tell that there are several big, burly, heavily-armed agents climbing in through the smashed window and stalking towards him and Steve.

“We’ve got company,” he grits out.

“Who are you?” Steve calls.

Nobody answers. What a surprise.

Because of the darkness, Bucky can’t tell exactly what kind of gear they’ve got on, but if they’re storming into a place like this to fight four of earth’s mightiest heroes, then it’s not unreasonable to expect full body protection. The standard stuff: ballistic vests, probably with a steel plate inserted. If this is a planned attack — which, judging by the coincidental timing of everything, seems to be quite likely — they’ve probably got night vision goggles too. He can’t tell how many agents there are exactly, but a conservative estimate would be about a dozen.

“Yeah, we’ve got company too,” Sam announces.

“Priority is to get out of here alive,” Steve replies calmly, “Don’t do anything stupid,”.

“Copy that, Cap,”.

As Steve hooks his shield onto his arm, he catches Bucky’s gaze.

“You ready for this, pal?” Bucky asks, as the shadowed figures steadily advance.

Steve rolls his shoulders back and holds his shield up in front of him. “I can do this all day,” he replies. He gives Bucky a curt nod, and then—

—they charge forward, as fast as a lightning strike, hoping to take the agents by surprise. Gunshots ring out in the cramped hallway.

Whilst these agents might have the upper-hand in terms of artillery power and night-vision goggles, Bucky’s got enhanced speed and agility, not to mention decades of combat experience. These agents, although clearly not untrained or lacking in experience, are simply no match for Bucky, let alone Bucky and Steve combined. He switches his mind to autopilot, letting his body run mostly on pure, adrenaline-fuelled instinct. It’s not the same blank, cold and ruthless headspace he fell into when he operated as the Soldier, but neither is it dissimilar — Bucky thinks of it as him fighting like the Soldier with a conscience. Bucky works efficiently, methodically darting between bodies, slamming his knives into muscled thighs and between pieces of body armour. He pushes off from the wall and uses the momentum to slash the throat of one of the agents. Bucky will always prefer using his knives in close-combat situations like these; they’re practically an extension of his arms, at this point.

Although Bucky’s focus is mostly on keeping himself out of harm’s way, he’s always got five percent of his mind listening out for Steve, making sure that the punk’s not gotten into too much trouble. They work like a well-oiled engine, the pair of them, having had so much experience charging into battle side-by-side. Inseparable, they are, and whatever bullshit the Smithsonian decided to come up with when describing the two of them together.

To be fair, the words aren’t entirely untrue.

Somewhere off to his right, Bucky catches the clang as Steve’s shield collides with someone’s helmet. He smirks inwardly as the agent on the receiving end of that blow yowls in agony.

Bucky grunts as an agent slams the butt of their rifle into his sternum. In those precious milliseconds where he is momentarily winded, the agent presses forward, backing Bucky into the wall, punch after punch colliding with his ribs. Bucky grits his teeth and clenches his metal hand into a fist, ready to knock the lights out of this bastard. Anticipating this, the agent twists them to the ground, kneeling on Bucky’s metal arm to pin it down. The metal plates whirr and click in protest. Blows continue to be rained down upon him.

The agent is an idiot for not knocking the knife out of Bucky’s other hand.

Though Bucky is busy trying to dodge the man’s punches, he somehow manages to embed his blade into the man’s shoulder, causing him to fall off Bucky, howling in anguish.

Bucky silences him with a deft flick of the wrist.

There are fewer footfalls now, in the corridor, indicating that most of the agents are either dead or incapacitated. Fallen bodies litter the ground, creating a human obstacle course, of sorts. Some parts of the floor are slippery with blood.

Heavy grunting noises waft down from the other end of the corridor. Bucky assumes that Steve is not, in fact, having sex with one of these agents and therefore, could be in need of help. He heads over there to check if he can be of any assistance. Judging by the heavy thuds and thumps coming from that side of the corridor, their grapple must be pretty intense. Bucky jogs a little bit faster to the source of the sounds.

Steve has gotten himself pinned into something of a sticky situation when Bucky gets there. He’s on his back with the agent’s legs around his neck in a chokehold. One of Steve’s hands is shoved between his neck and the agent’s thigh, trying to edge it away from him. The fingers of his other hand are scrabbling for the knife he’s strapped to his outer thigh.

Bucky sighs.

This seems to be the last agent standing and the sooner they dispose of him, the sooner they can go check on Nat and Sam. Bucky adjusts his grip on his knife, takes aim and, with a smooth flick of his wrist, embeds the blade into the side of the man’s throat. His legs go slack immediately.

Steve shoves the hulking brute off his body and takes in a deep gulp of air. He looks around wildly, catches sight of Bucky and breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Why do I always have to finish your fights for you, Rogers?” Bucky drawls, wiping his blades on the heel of his boot before tucking them back into their sheaths.

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve sighs, readjusting his helmet as he gets to his feet. He picks up his shield from where it has fallen on the floor, slinging back into its harness.

“Sure you did,” Bucky says dryly.

“Did we get all of ‘em?” Steve asks, glancing around the corridor. In the darkness, it’s hard to tell exactly, but Bucky’s fairly certain that every agent is permanently out of action. There’s no telltale moaning or groaning of someone in pain. Nonetheless, he strains his ears, listening for a hitched breath, or subdued footfalls, or perhaps even the click of a gun cocking.

He hears nothing of the sort.

“Think so,” Bucky replies quietly.

“C’mon. Let’s find Sam and Nat, then get the hell outta here,”.

“For once in your life, Rogers, you’re talking sense,”.

Bucky stalks ahead of Steve, rifle drawn and senses heightened. He picks his way through the corridor littered with bodies, taking care not to slip in any pools of blood. Behind him, Bucky hears Steve matching his every footstep, covering his six. They head towards the stairwell at the far end of this wing, so that they can cross into the adjacent one and find Nat and Sam.

Something whistles past Bucky’s ear.

He tenses. There’s a beeping noise that sounds distinctly like a—

“Bomb!” Steve yells, shoving Bucky forward just heartbeats before an ear-shattering explosion rips through the building. The force of the blast sends him sprawling backwards. He collides with the wall with a sickening crunch. It’s very possible that he fractures a rib.

He’s disoriented for several precious seconds as the dust settles around him. He coughs, wincing as the motion jars something in his chest. There’s an incessant ringing in both his ears. His hearing’s muffled, probably because his ear drums have been severely damaged. They’ll heal up in a few minutes; he knows this from experience. Bucky squints his eyes, trying to see through the debris and darkness, in order to locate Steve.

The blast was concentrated, making it all the more powerful. It seems to have not compromised the structural integrity of the building itself, but did manage to blast a gigantic hole in the wall. At least the hole has the added bonus of letting in some light from the outside world, so they’re no longer working in complete darkness.

Though it looks like nothing is going to come crashing down on him, Bucky is still tensed up. Somebody had to be around to toss that bomb in their direction and chances are, they’ve got to be lurking around somewhere. They’ll probably want to make sure that Bucky and Steve are permanently disposed of.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky catches a flicker of movement — a shadow, flickering on the wall of the stairwell.

He gives chase, rifle held up in front of him. Bucky leaps over the railing, jumps past five steps and lands in a crouch on the floor below. He hoists his rifle to his shoulder, sights, then opens fire, catching the agent in the back of the thigh as he runs down the hallway. His finger presses the trigger again, letting another bullet fly; this one catches the man in the back of the knee. He topples, collapsing to the floor.

Bucky draws his knife as he stalks to the man with brusque purposefulness. He disposes of the agent in a brutal but efficient manner, slitting his throat in one gracefully swift slash. The agent is dead before his head even hits the ground. After glancing up and down the corridor to ensure that no one else is going to spring up on him, Bucky races back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Natasha’s voice crackles in his ear. “Barnes, come in, Barnes!” she yells.

“Romanoff,” he says gruffly as he stores his knife away.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Bomb,” he replies tersely, “Punched a hole right through the wall,”.

“Cap?”

Bucky hesitates. “Status unknown,”.

A pause, then, “Find Steve, we’ll get to the quinjet!” Sam calls.

“Already on it,” Bucky mutters.

Bucky clambers over bits of concrete and dead bodies towards the hole in the wall, because that is where the centre of the blast was. It’s where Steve must be. He cups his hand around his mouth and yells “Steve!”, ignoring the fact that his voice sounds a little bit hoarse and anguished.

He gets no response.

He’s just knocked out, Bucky reasons, as he steps over a particularly large block of concrete. No need to panic, Barnes.

Bucky yelps when a hand closes around his ankle.

“Steve!” he cries, sinking down to his knees beside the man in question.

Steve’s not doing too good. His eye’s swelling over, his lip’s been busted open and blood is trickling from his nose and various other cuts on his face. His body is wedged at an awkward angle between a concrete block and the door to one of the offices. His legs are askew in front of him, uniform covered in a thin coating of dust. He looks a little bit like a rag-doll.

That’s not even the worse part.

No. What’s worse is that there’s a huge ass steel pipe embedded in his thigh.

It’s at least three inches in diameter, jagged and pointy at both ends. It’s pierced Steve’s right leg, just above the knee. He’s sitting in a growing pool of blood, and the entire leg of his uniform is quickly getting soaked in it.

Bucky is agape.

“What’d I say about not doing anything stupid, punk?” Bucky says weakly. He can’t help it. It’s the first thought that pops into his head.

Steve chuckles.

“Shit, pal, hold on,” Bucky mutters, as he lifts his wrist to his mouth. “Natasha?”

“Yeah?” she responds, sounding a little bit breathless.

“I’ve found Steve. He’s not too good,”.

“What happened?”

“Got a steel pipe sticking out of his thigh,”.

Nat curses. “Alright, keep him stable. I’ll try to call in a medic,”.

When Bucky turns to look back at Steve, he finds that his head’s lolling to the side and his eyes are sliding shut. No, no, no, that’s not good, that’s not good, he needs to stay awake; the last thing Bucky wants is for Steve to go into shock because of the blood loss.

“Hey pal,” Bucky says, lightly slapping Steve on the cheek. Steve grunts, tries to twist his head away. “Steve, hey, hey, no, stay with me pal,”.

Sam’s voice crackles in his ear. “Medics en route,”.

“ETA?”

“5, maybe 10?”

“Tell them to hurry the fuck up,” Bucky snaps.

Steve attempts to shift himself and hisses in pain, clutching at Bucky’s arm frantically. “Yeah bud, hang tight, we got help on the way,”. Bucky looks around the barren corridor in search of something — anything — that he could use to staunch the bleeding.

“Gonna take more than this to get rid of me,” Steve mutters. He coughs wetly, forcing another trickle of blood out of his nose. Bucky grimaces.

“It’s okay, Stevie—bud, just stay with me,” Bucky soothes. He feels helpless. Bucky’s got some basic first-aid training, of course he does, but for goodness’ sake — in what universe is this situation considered basic? Who the fuck thinks that extracting a goddamn steel pipe out of someone’s leg is basic first aid training?

“Bucky?” Steve asks, squeezing Bucky’s forearm to get his attention.

“Yeah?”

“Tell Y/N I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding,”.

The broken pieces of Bucky’s heart crumble to dust at the sorrow in Steve’s voice.

“Listen here, Rogers—,” he starts.

“Bucky—,”

“No, shuddup, you punk,” Bucky says fiercely, moving in a little closer so that his face is right in front of Steve’s — that way, there is no way that Steve can miss the fierce determination in his expression. “You listen here, punk,” Bucky growls, “You are gonna make it to your wedding, ya hear me? Even if I have to haul your ass there to—,”

Bucky cuts himself off when Steve coughs again, another spurt of blood dribbling out of his nose. Steve wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing blood in streaks across his cheek.

“Bucky?” says Steve, quieter this time.

Bucky swallows. “Yeah?”

“Thanks,”.

“For what?”

“For sticking with me,” Steve replies, the corners of his lips curling up into a tired smile. “’Til the end of the line,”.

Hot tears prick at the back of Bucky’s eyelids.

“S’not the end, pal,” Bucky protests, fighting to keep his voice steady, “Stevie, you gotta—fuck,”. His voice cracks, mirroring the way in which his heart is shattering inside his chest. “No, no, no, this ain’t the end of the line, Stevie, we got this far, you ain’t dyin’ on me now,”.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Steve says weakly, letting his drooping eyelids slide shut.

“No!” Bucky shouts, his voice wavering unsteadily. He cups Steve’s face in both hands, trying to be as gentle as he can so as to not aggravate any potential neck trauma. “You keep your eyes open an’ you keep ‘em on me, yeah? Jus’ hold tight ’til the medics come, alright?”

“Barnes,” says Sam’s voice in his ear.

“What?” Bucky says curtly.

“Barnes, I got a missile incoming,” Natasha informs him, a edge of panic to her voice.

Bucky’s blood turns cold. Beneath him, Steve’s eyes flash open.

“W-what?” Bucky croaks, “Romanoff I—I can’t leave Steve,”.

“Barnes you need to get outta there!” Natasha insists, “You got two minutes, tops,”.

“Two minutes?!” Bucky squawks.

“Two minutes,” she confirms, voice grim. “Barnes, get out of there,”

“We’ve powered up the quinjet,” Sam adds, “We’ll land it a little closer to the compound,”.

“Bucky, just go, get out of here,” Steve grits out, pressing a hand to Bucky’s chest to shove him away.

“No!” Bucky roars, slamming his fist into the crumbling concrete out of frustration. “Not without you!”.

“Buck—,”

“Fuck this shit, I’m carrying you outta here,” Bucky grumbles, shifting back so that he can scoop Steve into his arms.

“Buck you’ll be faster without me!” Steve protests.

“Like hell I’m leavin’ you behind, punk,” Bucky snaps.

“Please, Bucky,” Steve begs. There’s something in his voice that makes Bucky pause, look directly into Steve’s eyes. There’s clarity in his gaze, that trademark Steven Grant Rogers stubbornness shining through a cloud of sorrow and regret.

“Please, Bucky,” he repeats, softer this time, the remorse evident in his voice. “Don’t—don’t fight me on this one. For Y/N. You gotta—you gotta tell her,”.

The mention of your name brings up a whole host of emotions that Bucky most definitely does not have the time for. The truth between you and him balances precariously on the tip of his tongue. Bucky wants, oh, he so desperately wants to tell Steve the truth. The full truth and nothing but the truth, because…goddammit, he owes it to his best pal, but—but Steve’s about to die and Bucky can’t spring that on him in his last moments.

There’re so many things I never got to say to you.

“Barnes, now,” Natasha growls, her tone desperate.

“Barnes, you gotta find cover,” Sam insists.

“Take the shield,” says Steve, his left hand twitching in the direction in which it has fallen. “Take it, it’ll protect you,”.

Bucky looks in the direction Steve’s gesturing in. The red, white and blue disc glints at him from down the hallway. If Bucky can get to it in time, he can bring it back and use it to protect Steve from the blast but — fuck it’s too far away. Even if Bucky sprints to get it, he won’t make it back in time to save Steve.

“Go,” Steve urges, his expression broken and resigned in a way Bucky’s never seen before.

He swallows thickly. There are tears streaming down his cheeks, he realises. “Steve, I—,”

“You’re with me ’til the end of the line, right?” Steve murmurs.

Bucky nods mutely.

“Well, I’m telling you this now — my line doesn’t end here,” Steve says, “Y/N’s gonna keep it going for me,”.

“Steve—,”

“Hold on, lemme finish,” Steve breathes, “I know you love her. You can tell me no, but I know you, Barnes, known you all my life. So I…I give you…my permission to…to do what you think is right,”.

Bucky’s heart is doing all sorts of flips in his chest. He—he doesn’t need to hear this now, his brain’s too overwhelmed as it is. Bucky files this information away in a folder in the back of his brain for him to re-examine later.

“You wanna stick with me ’til the end of the line? I’m asking you to keep her safe,” Steve murmurs. The corner of his lip twitches up into a lop-sided, bloodied smirk. “You keep her safe, okay?” Steve pleads, “Tell her that I love her, and that I’m sorry. And—and, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too,”.

Bucky sobs hoarsely, clasping Steve’s blood-streaked hand in his own, squeezing their fingers together. He tries not to think about the fact that this is the last time he’ll ever get to do that. Bucky ducks down to press a soft, parting kiss to Steve’s forehead — a single gesture which is nowhere near enough to convey everything he needs to say to the one man that matters most to him, to the one one man who deserves so much more — before jumping up, giving Steve a parting half-wave, then sprinting for the shield.

“30 seconds,” says Nat.

Bucky runs and runs and runs, forcing himself to not think about Steve. To not think about the fact that he is abandoning his brother in every sense of the word, to not think about the fact that he’s a terrible friend. There’s nothing he can do besides run. Bucky pours every last scrap of energy into the sprint, pumping his arms to propel his body forward. He picks up the shield when he passes by it, then holds it out in front of him as he heads towards the window. Bucky leaps through the glass, curling his body into a ball and twisting the shield so that it hits the ground first, in order to absorb the force of the impact.

“10 seconds,” Nat murmurs.

“We’ll miss you, Steve,” Sam sniffles.

Bucky ignores the pain lancing through his chest and shoulder, ignores the ruthless ache in his heart, ignores the dull throbbing in his thigh. He pushes on, aiming to at least get clear of the facility’s grounds, into the trees behind it.

“3,”.

Bucky vaults over the low brick wall—

“2,”.

—tumbles into a ditch—

“1,”.

—and gets the shield above his head to protect himself from the hailstorm of debris.

The explosion rocks the ground beneath him. A wave of raw, uninhibited energy rips through his body; his entire being get pummelled by an unforgiving wall of force. Flickers of bright orange and burnt red dance at the corner of his eye, and his skin is seared by the white-hot lick of flames.

When the dust begins to settle, Bucky slowly pushes himself to his feet to survey the damage.

What he sees is utter devastation.

The facility has been levelled to the ground. Only a few crumbling support pillars remain standing; nearly everything else has been turned to dust or fine rubble.

He swallows.

There’s no way Steve could have survived that.

“Barnes? Status report?” Natasha prompts.

His hand trembles when he brings it up to his wrist. “Impact confirmed. Steve…he—he couldn’t have made it,”.

“May he rest in peace,” Sam whispers.

Bucky feels sickened, chilled to his core. He feels hollow, yet way too full, all at the same time — he is devoid of emotion, whilst simultaneously feeling far too many emotions. Bucky collapses to his hands and knees, fingers digging into the cracked dirt and dried grass in front of him. He retches violently, lungs contracting and heaving like bellows, but nothing comes out of him. He slams his fists into the ground, thrashes and sobs violently, even howls into the still of night like a wolf. Grief crashes through his system, pounding him again and again in forceful, unrelenting waves.

Steve is gone.

——————————

Natasha and Sam eventually have to come and haul him out of the ditch, because Bucky finds himself too shell-shocked to move.

“We have to go check,” Bucky says brokenly, shaking his head no when Natasha tries to coax him to come into the quinjet.

Sam opens up his pack and pulls out a small handheld device. It’s a thermal sensor. He hands it to Bucky, who aims it at the remnants of the building.

The screen reads nothing.

No heat signatures whatsoever.

Bucky swallows back the nausea rising in his throat. “We gotta go check,” he insists.

——————————

They end up spending at least an hour trawling through the rubble. It’s laborious and difficult work, and most of the concrete pieces are too large for the three of them to lift together — even with Bucky’s enhanced strength — but he stoutly perseveres, nonetheless. If Steve—if there’s even a fraction of a chance that he’s alive, they’ve got to find him.

But when Bucky catches the worried and somewhat doubtful look that Sam shoots in Nat’s direction, he knows that that chance is growing thinner by the second.

Eventually, Bucky has to admit defeat.

He hates that. He hates himself for failing the one person that always came through for him. He hates how he never got to tell Steve the truth, hates how he’ll never get to see Steve’s smile, or hear his laugh, hates how they’ll never be able to spar together, or laugh at stupid jokes together, or reminisce about two young, innocent boys from a time long gone together.

The Smithsonian was wrong, he thinks. Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.

Turns out, they were inseparable in just the one.

The flight home is eerily quiet. Bucky’s glad of that. He doesn’t want to talk.

Natasha’s flying the jet, with Sam sitting in the co-pilot seat beside her. Bucky’s sitting in the back, slouched against the wall. Snippets of murmured conversation from the cockpit reach his ears, but Bucky pays them no attention. Steve’s shield leans on the wall opposite him, new scratches marring the white star. Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from it the entire flight home.

Maybe, if he stares at it hard enough, Steve will return.

——————————

Natasha lands the jet with practiced ease. She powers down the engines, then turns around to give Bucky a tight smile. He thinks it’s supposed to be a show of support. With a heavy sigh, Bucky gets up, picks up Steve’s shield, then leads the trio out of the quinjet.

In the distance, Bucky sees you and Wanda racing over. His heart starts to race a little faster; this is what he has been dreading. As soon as he steps off the ramp, you launch yourself at Bucky, eyes manic and expression concerned.

“God, guys, you look like shit!” Wanda exclaims, “What happened?”

“Where’s Steve?” you ask Bucky, craning your head around to look over his shoulder.

Bucky looks to Nat and Sam, helplessness written all over his features.

“Where’s Steve?” you repeat, your voice wavering slightly. It is then that your eyes flick downwards, and you notice that Steve’s shield is being held in Bucky’s loose grip. You snatch it out of his hand.

“Bucky, why do you have this?” you ask sharply, “Where’s Steve?”

Bucky bites his quivering bottom lip and keeps his eyes downcast, unwilling to meet the anguish in your gaze. Your fingers hook into the straps on the front of his uniform, yanking him forward so that your face is just an inch away from his own.

“Barnes, don’t fuck with me,” you growl, “Where. Is. Steve?”

Bucky swallows, trying to force his mouth to shape the words that he has been unwilling to say. Saying them aloud makes it final, makes it a fact — one which he doesn’t want to admit. Though Bucky may have lied to you a lot in recent months, this is not a situation which he can bluff his way out of.

“He’s dead,”.

End Note: Steve’s death (or the manner in which he died) was inspired by this post.

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