#dialogue from the pmc

[firecodex]

Transcript

Guzma:

These fancy Pokémon Center cafés sure have a lot, but they're all missing some important stuff!

They don't have my favorite drink from back in Alola!

Here on Pasio, it's got me thinking about that taste sometimes. Yeah.

Transcript

Guzma:

That drink is everywhere in Alola.

If you find it around here, buy one for your boy Guzma, OK?

[werewolfsmile]

re: "All I’m saying is the fact that someone isn’t talking to me about Eliot Spencer every second of every day is very unfair and borderline illegal." & tags - if you want to, can you elaborate on your werewolf!eliot ideas?? i’d like to hear about it!! if not all good tho :)

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Yes I would love to elaborate! (buckle up because i have Thoughts)

(wow this really got away from me so uhhh .... warning for 2k of ranting about Eliot as a werewolf?? list of headcanons under the cut)

From the moment I first met Eliot Spencer, I knew he was werewolf-coded. Aside from his insanely fantastic fighting abilities and the absurd amount of punishment he can take, there are many other factors that contribute to his werewolf status.

Eliot needs a pack Our boy is out here working on his own for years and look at all the good it did him! None! He carries severe trauma from his family life because he blames himself for how it all went down and doesn't think he'll be welcomed back. Plus something probably happened during his military days or early PMC days to put him off working with others. Could have been the pain of losing people all the time, could have been something more. Either way, Eliot working on his own is a defence mechanism - but a self-destructive one.

Wolves thrive in packs - like duh, they're pack animals. As my username suggests, I'm into werewolves and, by extension, wolves. I've done research for my own werewolf novels in the past, so I know that in an average wolf pack, each pack member will have physical contact with the other pack members on the regular. Like, several times an hour! (gosh if I can find the research paper this info came from I'll link it but honestly it's been years) That's a serious level of physical contact required to keep the emotional bonds of the pack healthy!

Flick back to Eliot. He loves to fight, he loves the violence and the pain, yes. He hates the killing and the blood on his hands. He actually tries to leave the assassin world behind after he meets Toby (which is before he meets Moreau, as per early dialogue in The French Connection Job). He bonds quickly with Toby. Show Eliot a little love and care and he's yours for life! He moves onto retrieval work, then somehow ends up working for Moreau.

Now, when we see Eliot and Moreau in The Big Bang Job, Moreau says, "You work alone." Which means that Eliot had that reputation when he came to Moreau. He probably only took contracts to start off with. But he accepted job after job from Moreau and was so good that he was highly respect and it's inferred he ended up as Moreau's top bodyguard/assassin. Why the hell would Eliot end up that close to a man who brings out all the worst in him? Because Eliot's a werewolf and no matter how toxic, Moreau fulfills the need for a pack bond that he's been missing all this time.

Fast forward to Eliot meeting the rest of the Leverage team. One job only - my ass. He saves Hardison's life after Hardison brought a gun to their little meeting - and we all know how Eliot feels about guns.

Wolves are designed to live and operate in packs. Eliot says it's one job only but is bonding with them all from the get-go. Werewolf trait confirmed.

Eliot needs physical touch Now, I know what you're thinking. Eliot canonically avoids physical contact with the team. He refuses hugs, especially from Hardison, growls at Parker poking his bruises (don't get me started on the growls), and shoves people (ahem Parker) out of his personal space. So why would he do all this if he needs physical touch??

Because he's one gigantic ball of angst and self-loathing and guilt.

Eliot doesn't think he deserves forgiveness or love or family, etc. That is a whole other rant, but he denies himself the physical contact he needs with others as a way of punishing himself.

However, as the series progresses, we see him become more comfortable with physical contact! He hugs Hardison several times, he doesn't move away from Parker, etc. Why? Because he's bonded with this team (ahem pack) and there's only so much he can suppress his instincts. The more time he spends with them, the more naturally the contact flows.

Eliot needs to protect others Whenever we get a scene of the team walking as a group, where is Eliot positioned 90% of the time?? That's right, at the back of the group. He lets the others walk in pairs and falls back to bring up the rear. He's keeping them all in his line of sight and constantly scanning for threats ahead, along with protecting the team from any rear attacks. It makes sense for him to do this given his military background, but it also makes sense for a werewolf to do this.

He's the only werewolf in the team. His instincts revolve around keeping the pack safe and protected, so he does that in the best way he knows how.

Not to mention how feral gets over kids!!

Wolf life is all about the pack and the family structure. Pups are integral to the pack's survival and future. Eliot doesn't have kids of his own. But that doesn't stop his instincts from blaring every time he interacts with a kid, be it on the con or off. He takes time out every time to help that kid in an attempt to calm the raging storm of instincts inside his body.

Eliot needs to feed others It's another werewolf instinct that rears its head when they're in the safety of their headquarters (ahem den). Protecting the team/pack from physical threats is just one aspect of taking care of them. Feeding them is the other major one.

None of these idiots can cook to save their lives - except Nate, but he's also drowning his liver 90% of the time, so Eliot has to compensate for that, too. The team can't operate at full capacity if they're not consuming good nutrition. So Eliot makes sure to feed them.

His humanity recognises that these are independent people - coworkers - and he can't control every meal of every day. But he can cook for them, once a week or once a job, which is just enough to satisfy his instincts that he's doing his part to care for them. Plus they love his cooking, and the praise he gets from it is an unexpected but pleasant bonus.

Eliot and team sports/kitchens This ties in with my first point about Eliot needing a pack, but all the times we see Eliot go super hard and get absorbed in the role he's playing are when he's on a team sport or he's in the kitchen. Both of these fulfill super important instincts for him - being in a team/pack and providing food for others.

Think about The Tap-Out Job. Eliot's playing a fighter but he's not pretending to be on a team. He doesn't get over-invested in the role. But what about when he's a baseball player? A hockey player? He falls into those roles hard because he's working with another team again, and this little werewolf is built for that environment. Same in The French Connection: the kitchen becomes his den, the students are his pack mates, and he goes hard at investing in them and protecting them. Never mind the personal aspect of Toby.

Same for episodes like The Fairy Godparents Job when we get a scene of Eliot teaching a bunch of girls self-defence. Team setting + protecting kids = happy werewolf instincts.

So, werewolf headcanons? I have a lot of different origin theories but the main one I like for Eliot is:

he became a werewolf either for a covert military op, or was bitten by Moreau (choose your own angst flavour)

if it was for the military, they were trying to engineer supersoldiers and he was deemed a failure; he has werewolf instincts all the time but only has enhanced strength, healing, etc on full moons

if it was bitten by Moreau, there's a psychic-style bond linking them, which is why he was so loyal to Moreau for so long, and also why he is so reluctant to go after Moreau

(wow this is too different theories already and i said this was my 'main one' whoops)

Eliot can only shift easily on the full moon; shifting outside of a full moon can only be caused by extreme stress and is ridiculously painful

he suffers an insanely high prey drive all the time and is so strict about his control because he doesn't actually wanna rip out the throat of Random Guard #3

he used to chain himself up for full moons so he didn't hurt anyone, but since the team found out about him, Hardison and Parker have taken it upon themselves to 'puppy-sit' him every full moon

this involves no chains but an obscene amount of dog chew toys. Eliot is never impressed. He also never chases or chews the toys. The video evidence Hardison has was obviously doctored.

Hardison and Parker found out the truth when a con went sideways and Eliot was trapped in a room with them during the full moon

he was terrified he was going to kill them - or worse, bite them - but his instincts recognised them as pack so instead he just tried to wrestle with them all night

Hardison had a major freak out when he discovered Eliot was a werewolf - it's one thing to be obsessed with sci-fi/fantasy, it's another thing entirely to see your best friend transform before your eyes

Parker was not even remotely phased, being all like, "pfft of course werewolves are real, I thought you knew that Hardison, you talk about your elves and orcs all the time!"

"Woman that is completely different and you know it!"

"What else do you think is fake? The tooth fairy?? Ha!"

Eliot is Done With Their Shenanigans

Parker only ever refers to Eliot as Sparky when he's in his wolf form

Sophie didn't actually know about werewolves before the reveal but she pretends that she did

Nate knew about werewolves before Eliot, he just chooses to pretend that they're Not A Thing

werewolves generally don't make good hitters, because the constant exposure to violence ramps up their hunting instincts aka they find it hard not to kill

of course, this doesn't matter if you're someone like Moreau who specifically wants killing machines and thus turns his top hitters into werewolves, to ensure loyalty and enhance his strength

the only other werewolf hitter not under Moreau's control that Eliot knows is Quinn, who most certainly did not pull his werewolf strength punches when they tousled in The First David Job

Quinn doesn't have a pack (werewolf or otherwise) and genuinely doesn't seem phased by this, which pisses off Eliot to no end

however, after they work together in The Last Dam Job, Quinn deems himself Eliot's Best Werewolf Bud and keeps popping up randomly to hang out on full moons, etc

Parker and Hardison are a bit weirded out (and a little jealous) of Quinn's attention initially, but soon get over that when they discover that two werewolves on a full moon absolutely play for hours like 6 month old puppies - especially with the tug rope

Eliot is Extremely Susceptible to belly rubs even in his human form, which is half the reason he pushes people out of his personal space a lot - his reputation would never survive anyone finding out

of course the entire team figures it out and take to ambushing him with belly rubs whenever he's being stubborn or annoying

belly rubs are also the only way he will relax enough when he's injured so they can treat his wounds

despite the incessant dog jokes, the ever-growing pile of dog toys, and the bowls labelled with "Sparky" and cartoon bone symbols ... Eliot absolutely adores the pack he's found himself in and wouldn't change them for the world

One of these days I will sit down and write a thousand fics for werewolf!Eliot! Till then, I'll just keep churning out the headcanons ;)

[olibird]

19-35 and 7-11 bonding?

My very bad drawing to show what I wanted. Then my partners finished drawing! Check out his work at fruitlemoniii on instagram, or @sir-fruitlemoniii on here! “Watch with amazement as the quality slowly deteriorates”-Sushi (The wonderful artist)

After this incident 19-35 callsign soon becomes ‘mini’ maybe ‘fun sized’. Also getting KitKats is the highest level of love from him. (His call sign for a different PMC is KitKat for a reason, he’s a bit feral for them. Bit a fellow soldier over one)

@pampanope :)

Also a side quest done by my partner after he heard 7-11, the quote being “7 11 is the place with the slurpies, right?”

(ps.I was the Anon asking about how he would react to a spy, got distracted and haven’t wrote the spy one yet. Turns out I’m very bad at writing dialogue)

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Reader

Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.

Part One of Two (Possibly Three Part short story).

EDIT* I went back and proofread this again and fixed errors. I didn't realize I posted this in such a crummy state before, I'm sorry!

TW//: Blood, Violence

Angst, Drama, Action, Romance, Near Death Experiences, Confessions, slightly Dark, some Fluffy Dialogue (not a ton though), Tension, slight Suspense, slight Slow Burn, For the girlies who like when their romantic moments feel a little teased and earned, Though this might still be boring garbage, plus the real stuff doesn't start 'til part two. The "developing feelings through almost dying in front of each other" trope, my favorite trope lowkey

This was not the smut piece I have been planning to write for Price (That's still coming), I wanted to practice writing him a little and this sprung on me after playing MW 2019. Figured I'd post it, though this is just to indulge my growing obsession with this man. Let me know if he's OOC, I want to write him well! Enjoy!

Part Two | Part Three

Price's voice suddenly shouts out from the living room, frantic and wired...

"Ambush! Get behind cover!"

...However, his warnings are drowned out by the whistling of an RPG heading straight for your location. It cuts through the evening sky, coming to you as a black dot zipping by at the blink of an eye.

The rocket breaks through the window of the house you and Price had been tasked to raid for intel, as the explosion goes off against one of the walls behind you. The sound which follows is unlike any you've ever heard the likes of before. A piercing, defeaning pop; the loudest and most unpleasant thing imaginable.

The sharp, crashing boom it erupts around you is hot like fire, singing your uniform and blasting you forward. It's the last thing you remember, before being greeted into a world of swirling blacks and oranges. In pain and completely immobile. Momentarily knocked unconscious.

You're not so sure how much time passes before you come to again. Only a handful of minutes or so. Though in that span, you've listened to the sounds of growing gunfire and shouting rise like a terrifying mob outside. Coming in and out in hot flashes.

Had your Captain's shouting not broken through this foggy barrier, you would have thought you'd have just died. You wouldn't be so lucky.

"Lieutenant!" you hear him call out. His voice grows more desperate the longer he hasn't heard from you. "I'm comin'!"

As the dust began to settle, you felt yourself coming back. You groan in pain, your entire body sore from the blast. Brick and stone rubble surround you like a straightjacket. You're pretty sure the entire roof of the house had fallen on top of you just now. Beneath it all, it was hard to tell for certain.

As you lie trapped, waiting to be rescued, you couldn't help but think about the mission. You and Price should have known this was some sort of setup.

Even Laswell had doubts this lead on Makarov wasn't just some trap to lure out their rivals and take them out, but with this recent dry spell on the investigation, your team couldn't afford to pass up the chance at some potentially valuable leads. It's why Laswell kept the team small, sending only you two on this one.

An easy enough operation: infiltrate the building, gather the intel, and get out. Nothing new. Only all you've found in this rinky-dink building on the outskirts of Urzikstan was a handful of AQ remnants and their new Russian PMC allies. And they knew you two were coming too.

The marked house was empty, both of any life and intel. And not even a second later were they all on top of your location, every inch of this town and the hills that surrounded it dug in with hostiles.

You'd have to ask Price later how it was he was able to push back that hoard alone, if you can make it out of this. There's no telling what they'd do to you both if they caught you in here, and that's if they even take you in alive.

You feel bits of rubble being shifted off your body, immense amounts of pressure releasing upon their departure. It's quickly replaced by the sharp bruising and pain it's left in its wake beneath your uniform.

"I'm right here," you hear Price's voice try to soothe you from up above, that gruff Liverpool accent of his clear enough even through the strain and stress. He hasn't let you down a day since you've known him. He wasn't about to make today his first.

Another large bit of rubble gets removed, taking the darkness away and flooding light down from above.

You could have sworn you were looking at an angel when you finally made out the silhouette of the man rescuing you. Your Captain. John Price.

"I've got you," Price assures you, his words felt wracked with adrenaline, hands moving near on impulse.

His hat was gone, short brown hair in a light tussle, and dust and light soot coating the black of his uniform and scruff of his beard. It almost worried you not to see him in it; he never parts from that thing. Perhaps during the blast it had gotten caught in the crossfires and rendered unwearable.

For some reason, it only made the situation feel much more worse than you originally thought.

His blue eyes find yours beneath the rubble, and you watch all the dread he'd been juggling with subside into relief the second he hears you cough out all the dust and wall you'd inhaled, struggling to catch your breath. He sighs to himself with a smile.

He doesn't even hear the words when he says them. Price only says the first thing that came to mind the minute you've finally stopped coughing to see him again.

"Thank fuckin' Christ."

Once Price saw you weren't dead, he finished removing the rubble from off of you. It's the bit he removes from your right arm that finally pulls a pained cry out of you. It's so intense it's as though reality just now set back in for you.

Your entire right arm felt numb from the elbow down, your fingers no longer feeling attached to your body. Had you not held your breath and sucked up the courage to look (with your peripherals first), you would have thought you'd lost your arm in the explosion.

Though it didn't make it any less broken and fucked. Nor did it make it any easier to not become fearful of what this could mean for you.

The Captain immediately notices the condition of your arm once he's cleared the debris off you. Cursing under his breath, Price helps you to your feet, brushing as much dirt from you as he can.

"You broken?" he asks. "Apart from the arm?"

You feel for what weapons still remained attached to your body after the blast, finding just a slender knife and your holstered pistol. Only two clips though. Of course.

Your arm and entire backside ached something fierce, and your brain felt as though it had been rattled inside your head and then some. If you shut your eyes now, you feared fainting dead away, and the ringing in your ears has yet to subside.

But your current state would have to do. It's that or die here. You knew that, and Price knew that too.

"I'm still here, Captain."

Price smiles, his gaze softening for just the slightest second. Happy to see his training and advice being taken seriously.

It just now was beginning to dawn on him that you hadn't died in here with him either. Seeing you OK and still ready to fight felt fuel enough for the Captain to keep going.

"That you are," he says.

Price parts from you to take post back by the freshly made hole in the wall, readying his rifle. Most of the building had collapsed in on itself, with the exception of the back of the house still being mostly intact.

Outside you could see the mountain of bodies Price had no doubt created while you were buried. None made it too close to where your position was.

With the coast temporarily clear, the current objective at hand remained the same: Get to the Evac Zone stat and get the hell out of dodge.

"This building's gonna be surrounded by Russians and AQ in less than a minute if we don't bug out now," Price warns. "And there'll be more where that came from, so ready yourself for a fight."

"Price..."

The Captain looks back at you, hearing the sudden dread in your voice. It takes him having to have stepped away from you to finally see that something really was up.

Your eyes look down to his waist, where you see the blood beginning to pool at his hip, staining his clothing and growing larger by the minute. It's clear he'd used what he could to try and wrap it, though it hadn't been enough. The adrenaline must have taken his mind away from it.

It figures you weren't the only one who got wounded here.

You look back up at Price, worried. Quiet.

Price looks down at his wound, placing a hand against it and seeing the warm, wet liquid coat his tattered glove. Whether it be a front or really only a flesh wound, Price doesn't dare break composure in front of you. You both would need him clearheaded.

"It's nothin' fatal," he simply tells you.

You knew Price wouldn't make a big deal about his injury, even if it were serious, which you honestly could not tell from where you were standing. You also knew Price wouldn't want you to worry about it either. He never liked when you worried for him; that's his job.

The time dwindled all the same; you can worry about it when you both get home.

You look to Price with contentment. You wouldn't be another reason for his worries if you could help it. "It'll make a good story for the boys later."

Price smiles back at you. "You'll tell it better than me, I'm sure."

The growing sound of men shouting and vehicles rushing to flank your position makes your blood run cold. If you didn't leave soon, neither of you would make it out of this to tell your stories.

You try and get that adrenaline you felt before to spike back up, knowing this was a matter of life and death now. Though your body betrayed you.

Your heart won't stop racing, no matter how much you try and calm yourself. Your hands keep shaking, and you can't help but keep checking the recently blasted hole behind you and your Captain. Soon to be flooded with enemies. Afraid.

Price must have noticed your worrying, because he steps away from his position and does something completely outside of himself suddenly. Though as he did so, it couldn't have felt more natural of a thing to do. Like a gesture he's spent his whole life waiting to give you.

He rests his hand gently on your cheek, bringing your eyes forward so you could see nothing beyond his own gaze. This close, even as night falls over the town and darkness shrouds the remains of this little house, this felt the clearest you've ever looked upon your Captain.

There's a glint of determination in his eyes, all the years of experiences that have worn and torn him the older he has gotten, defining the finer parts of his features. His expression always softened at the sight of you, an act you alone pulled from him for the first time truly, now.

Price was here with you. At that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

"Hey," his thumb caresses your cheek, his jaw clenching to keep from wincing at the pain in his abdomen. "We're alive. Let's keep it that way, yeah? I'm not leavin' here without you."

His jaw tenses once more and you think for a second he might say something else. But he holds his tongue, wanting the most for you to keep calm beside him.

You can feel it in the air around him; the captain's as bugged out as you are right now. He was just doing everything he could to keep being a leader and bottle it up, channeling those fears and turning them into fuel to keep going. His words may be more for himself, than you, but they're true enough.

You lift your good hand up and let it rest over his, feeling his hand stiffen at first, but then find its home against your palm. You didn't want to have to let go, but you knew you must eventually. So you nod. "Damn right, you're not."

Price chuckles, happy to see you on the same page. "Fuckin' A, love," he quickly quips. "Now let's move."

The rocky hills stretched further out ahead of you. At some point their edges seem to blend with the black of the sky, all the stars gone away someplace. Luck would see a full moon above your heads, providing the only bit of light on this makeshift route to the Evac Zone.

You have Price's arm over your left shoulder now, having to help him the rest of the way since you've escaped the base. No amount of tough guy act the Captain put on could prevent the amount of blood he'd been losing. Had he not started tumbling over mid-shootout suddenly, you wouldn't have even known. And you wanted to kill him yourself once you did too.

It's nothin' fatal, he had said. The lie of the fucking century, right?

By now his dark blood has practically stained the entire lower right side of his body, making his skin pale and his eyelids heavy. His movements slowed, his reflexes taking a severe hit because of it, and he was beginning to breathe heavier. You've gone through all your supplies trying to stop his bleeding before leaving the house. Nothing worked.

It had been infuriating, just as it'd been scary to realize that your Captain really did need a medic right now. If he didn't see a doctor soon, he might just bleed to death before you've made it out of here.

Of course, having to help him now meant you couldn't shoot at all, given the state of your other arm. Price helped with what he could, but even a man of his talents couldn't prevent shaky shots from increasing blood loss.

"Nikolai's not far out now," Price grunted out, doing his best to put one more clip into his pistol. The last one. "Should be a few more clicks along this trail."

"He couldn't fly a little closer," you huff out, readjusting your hold on the Captain. He wasn't a light man, and while he did everything in his power to make this easier for you, his weakening state only grew harder to carry.

"You holdin' up alright?" Price asks. You feel him once again, ready himself to try and pull away and stand on his own feet. Having to rely on you was eating away at him, you could tell.

"I'm fine," you tell him, though that's not all the way true. Your vision had started to blur, and your lungs felt on fire. Now that some time has passed, all your once numb injuries were suddenly starting to scream at you for relief. Had you not been concentrating on your steps in front of you, or the thumping of your heart inside your ringing ears, you would have fainted already.

But you were all Price had right now; there was no way you'd fail him when he needed you most. "I'm more worried about you, Captain."

"Still got my wits about me..." he says. "Maybe a little lighter now, given I've been leakin' like a faucet."

"I'd beg to differ."

"Eh, you can use the exercise, lieutenant."

"Or you can lose the weight, Captain."

You both chuckle, and for a second, it felt easier to pretend you both were somewhere else right now. Spending all the time together you only wish you had before.

The levity was needed. It kept you both sane and human, and right now, Price was kicking himself in the ass for not appreciating these moments with you sooner.

The team really lucked out when they recruited you, he saw that now. You've always made sure you were someone Price could trust. That you were someone he could depend on you. You kept a cool head and you did what you must, while staying both good-natured and sweet, despite everything.

And when everything was said and done, you came back to him, keeping a smile as neutral as his own could manage. Your eyes bright like stars with him in your sights. His would often do the same.

All the times you've been at his side before tonight, keeping his head on straight when he needed it most, and always reminding him of life outside of all of this, they've only increased over the years. In every moment it always felt as though you two only teetered at the next level of your fondness for one another. Both wanting to push further, but not wanting to push the other too quickly either.

Your roles on the team always came first; they seemed to be the most important thing at the time.

Every lingering touch, a longing gaze brought by excitement and recognition, a check-in during work, or a brief moment of conversation... that's where your relationship has stayed for years now. You both felt OK with that. You thought so at first.

However, Price knew one thing. He couldn't lose you tonight. He wouldn't. Not on his account. Not when there's so much more that can still be. John's lived long enough to know that when something feels this right, there is no time to waste, lest he lose that chance forever like he has with so many others before.

You feel Price grow slack against your side now, his blood starting to soak through your uniform. It took everything in you not to panic.

"I won't let you fall," you assure him now, adjusting him against you. "Just keep holding on."

The smell of blood is so strong, you'll never forget its scent long after you've left this place. Nor would you forget seeing your Captain this way. Hurt and broken. You know he's no stranger to it, but alas, John is still human.

"...I'm taking you out for dinner after this," Price up and says suddenly. He figures he should just throw that out there, in case he didn't get another chance to. "My treat."

You nearly trip when you hear him, as if you're heart needed any more of a reason to fluctuate. You lost count of how long you've waited to hear him say that, having spent so many nights daydreaming about a time he'd come up to you and actually asked you out. It felt like everything you imagined it would; if only it had been under better circumstances.

"Is that a promise, Captain?"

"You know I wouldn't bluff about that, love."

"Well, then you better keep it then, John."

"As you wish."

He could hardly understand how it was you were still able to push through all that growing pain in your body after taking such a blast. He couldn't be more proud of it either.

The town illuminated like a glowing city behind you, AQ and Russians creating an uproar there, regardless of your presence. It was no longer your problem, however. The approaching convoy heading your direction was.

You weren't out of the fire just yet.

You look around yourselves, only having a few large rocks and boulders to hide behind in your immediate vicinity. Little word is needed to be shared between you two before the plan was nonverbally green-lit.

You both take cover behind a large rock facing the hills, Price resting down against the rock as you took out your pistol. It was time to see if your shooting with your left hand has improved any more than it did a few minutes ago during your escape.

You peak over the stone, seeing four AQ soldiers step out with rifles and flashlights, already hot on your pursuit. Tracking the trail of blood you'd left behind. Price peaks around the other side of the rock, raising his pistol.

"You take the two on the right," he whispers. "I got left."

You nod, and then take position. Price takes the first shot, dropping both his targets with swift precision. Even wounded, the man always had a way with pistols. Forever the dead-eye shot.

You drop one AQ soldier, happy to see your aim improve. However, your heart sinks when you go to shoot the other soldier and you hear the click of your pistol suddenly. Out of ammo.

The AQ soldier fires at you, the bullet just grazing by your cheek, before another hits you straight at the center of your chest, rattling your sternum and knocking you off your feet. Without your bulletproof vest, that bullet would have torn straight through you. Though you might as well have died, with the pain it sent through you instead. Knocking the wind out of you.

Before you know it, Price has reached over and started pulling you back behind the boulder. "Hold on!" he says. "You're not dead yet."

Price goes to try and get to his knees and peek over the boulder, however, now that he's sat back behind the rock again with you, it's become an impossible task to even wiggle his feet at this point. Like his legs were losing feeling. The blood loss really was starting to catch up to him now, it seems.

So instead, Price did the next best thing, simply waiting for the AQ soldier to round the corner, which he stupidly does. The minute the enemy's head peaks over, Price shot twice for good measure, watching the man drop to the ground with a heavy thud.

"I think we're clear," he says. "Still breathing?"

"Yeah," you gasp out.

A lot of times, you're not sure if you'd make it through a lot of these missions if Price wasn't here. The true backbone of the 141. The man always just seemed to be prepared for anything, even with the odds stacked against him. Often feeling like some other worldly being on the field, unable to be truly harmed by the threats he faced.

Until now, you couldn't even picture him so hurt.

When Price went on a mission, you could trust he'd get it done, if no one else. And you could always trust he'd make it back too. One way or another. Of course, he wasn't always lucky, as rare as those days actually came. Luck seemed to only be a recent thing for him in fact, and of short supply tonight.

You push yourself up, rubbing your hand over your chest in an attempt to soothe the throbbing. You're unsure what bad juju you yourself had crossed, or why lady luck seemed on your side even despite it all, but maybe fate wanted you to make it out of here.

One of you at least.

You look over at Price and see him barely able to keep consciousness now, cold sweat forming at the sides of his face, and a puddle of blood building around his legs. His breathing broken. Dying.

Seeing him now, pale, bloodied, and relying on a rock behind him to keep himself upright... for the first time ever you felt fear for your Captain.

"No, no, no," you rush over to Price, taking hold of his face and bringing his eyes to you. Seeing them so close again wakes him somewhat. "Stay with me, Captain."

"I'm still here..." Price answers weakly. Even still, he tries to keep up an act in front of you, like he truly was fine. It only made you more afraid to lose him now. Out in some rocky hilltop in the middle of nowhere because of bad intel. You couldn't lose him like this.

You look over the boulder, seeing the convoy those AQ soldiers showed up in still running a few feet ahead of you. Just what you needed.

"Can you stand?" You ask.

"...I'll need help," he said.

"OK, OK..." You take a deep breath, plotting everything out in your head before taking Price's hand in yours. "There's a convoy over there we can take to the Evac Zone. It'll be faster than going on foot."

You start trying to pull Price up, feeling the man use all the strength he can muster to try and push off the ground and back to his feet. Having one hand to help him didn't make matters easier, however. He made it halfway before falling back against the cold stone with a sharp grunt and some swearing.

Rather than comment, you take Price's hand again, feeling your face turn red with trying to lift him. He gets his knees bent to stand this time, but whenever any weight was applied afterward, an aggressive pain would awkwardly shoot through his body, taking all the momentum from him and causing him to sink back down. And with how heavy he was, you couldn't stop him once he it happened.

Price falls back against the rock again, as frustrated as you are about it all. He can't even bring himself to look you in your eye he's so mad, ashamed of the situation. It's not like him to be the one holding things back. He shouldn't have gotten wounded like this in the first place, he felt.

"...If you go and get help, I can manage here 'til then," Price starts to say. Feeling like a burden, he no longer wished to hold you down. But you wouldn't hear it.

"Fuck that," you protest. "I didn't carry you all the way over here to leave you so you can bleed out."

"...You didn't do it to die here either." He grabs at his side, gritting his teeth along to that burning pain he felt, as the taste of iron tinted the back of his throat now. "Look, this ain't how I plan on goin' out, trust me. Plus we've still got that dinner, yeah?"

Price smiles at you after he says it, and it takes everything in you not to cry. An unspoken reality lingered in the air soon after, because you both knew what it'd mean if you couldn't pick him up from this spot. You'd give anything to not make that so.

You hear more vehicles heading your way from the town. A good handful of them now. Too many. All armed and ready to take out the two 141 soldiers responsible for killing their friends. You knew if you left Price here now, you wouldn't see him again.

"Fuck..." Out of breath and defeated, sorrow starts to settle in and you swallow it down, letting the feelings stir into frustration. "Why'd we wait so long, John?"

Price felt at a loss for words. "I don't know..." he admits. He couldn't quite give you an answer for that; it had always just been... something. He could at least look you in your eyes when he spoke to you now. "But... I'm sorry for that," he says. "Probably should have said somethin' sooner, huh."

You have to bite your cheek to keep from letting his words fill you with so much sorrow and regret. "You and me both."

Fearful that these may actually be your final moments with your Captain, now you wish he hadn't said anything at all, not knowing you'd be losing him so soon after. Leave it to Price to twist the knife in a wound you didn't even know had now grown.

However, Price did not share your begrudging feelings about how things turned out. He'd just been happy finally getting that off his chest. Now, if you could just get to safety then if he did die tonight he'd be satisfied enough with things.

"Better late than never, right?" Price chuckles through the pain. And then he grows quiet. "You know I've always had a pension for dramatic timing."

The vehicles in the distance getting closer now. There was no more time for further talking.

"Forever the attention seeker, Captain," you comment.

"Yours is all I ever needed."

You look back to the town a final time, seeing the convoys getting closer. You take a deep breath, and then you reapproach your Captain, taking his hand. You prepare yourself to try and lift Price back up to his feet again. "Well, you've got it."

"Now hold on-"

"No," you didn't want to hear any more of his excuses to be left behind. If helping him means you both die here, then that was something you were willing to risk. "I'm not leaving you here, so give it up already."

With one final pull, you use all the strength you have left in you to lift your Captain up to his feet. He uses your momentum to push himself up from the boulder, actually managing to stand, though it feels as though his guts are about to spill out of him when he does.

As he's teetering over, you quickly grab hold of his arm, restabilizing him, and trying not to jump too much for joy that you actually got him up this time.

You take his arm and wrap it back around your shoulder, as you guided him over to the convoy.

"We're damn near home free, Captain," you say. "Just hold on a little longer. You'll make it. You're the toughest man I know."

He is the toughest man you knew. A man ready to jump into the fire to save others in need. A man that can shrug off a helicopter crash, take a beating and still keep from succumbing. You knew he'd never go down without a fight, and it's why you felt so safe beside him. It's why you wouldn't leave him.

You open the passenger door and help Price inside.

"...You really want that dinner, don't you?" he teases you.

"Is that even a question?" You check to make sure the vehicle can still run, feeling for any tracking devices that might overcomplicate your escape. Once you see you're good to go, you buckle your seat belt and take the wheel. "Yeah, I want that dinner. Now stop bleeding and sit tight."

"Yes, ma'am."

Next stop, the Evac Zone.

Part Two

[the-bottom-of-the-abyss]

siren song - chapter 3

previous chapter: chapter 2

next chapter: chapter 4

A/N: This is a little dialogue heavy and mostly mission focused. I really want to make it as immersive as possible! I'm like fighting with the taglist rn in getting it to tag everyone properly. If it doesn't notify you just message me and I'll see if there's a broken link in my Excel sheet somewhere! Thank you for all the love on this series!! I makes me so happy!!

Siren

29 August 2022

1915, Mexican Special Forces base, Las Almas

“We got a hit on Hassan’s location. He’s being stashed in a cartel safehouse not far from your current location.”

Maps pinpointing a safehouse appeared behind a picture Hassan as Laswell’s voice rang out in the dark room, the only source of light being the projector.

You stood out some compared to the rest of the room; while everyone else sported tactical gear, you were still in your outfit from earlier with an addition: you wore a jacket that was about three sizes too big on your frame and smelled of gun-oil and pine-scented body wash. You looked like a kid playing dress up in their parents clothes with it reaching your mid-thigh and sleeves being longer than your arms.

You stood next to the jacket’s owner, Ghost, as Laswell and the General went over tomorrow’s plan. Of course, once you caught up to him after your impromptu “conversation,” neither of you mentioned what occurred.

Seemed to be a running theme. 

“Ghost, Soap, Siren, and Mexican Special Forces will hit the safehouse tomorrow afternoon. Phillip Graves and his Shadow PMC will be on standby for air support. I’ll leave you to rest and prepare. We need to get Hassan.”

—

While everyone filed out of the room, Alejandro gestured for you to stay. Both Soap and Ghost gave you a look but you waved them on ahead.

“Siren,” he started. “I’m not sure if anyone else will say it, but you did good today, hermana. Others may not understand, but I know what it’s like to give everything for the sake of what is right.” In that moment, the dark look in his eyes made him seem ten years older than what he was. It was clear just by his demeanor that he had been through a lot, had to give up a lot to get to where he was now. “You gave us more than just Hassan. Things that we normally wouldn’t be able to get our hands on.”

“I’m glad,” you said, not really knowing what else to say. Did you say you were suprised but then again you weren’t? On one hand, you were used to discussing your exploits freely with Laswell and Shepherd, and before them, your previous superiors. On the other, you knew this was very different than what the others were used to when it came to gathering intel; likely it seemed very odd that someone would voluntarily let bad men get close in the most intimate way possible for any reason, regardless of importance. You had your reasons though, not that anyone besides a handful knew them.

“Let me show you to your room with Soap and Ghost.”

—

He brought you to a small room that held three cots. Soap sat on the far left one while the far right one had what you assumed to be Ghost’s stuff on it. Alejandro left to go brief his men on tomorrow’s plan while you sat down your stuff on the middle bed and turned to face Soap.

“Where’s Ghost?”

“In the shower,” Soap replied.

“Good. I think he’s a little mad at me.” 

“Nah,” Soap said. “He was just concerned.” You could tell he wasn’t really looking at you, instead training his eyes anywhere but you. Since Soap didn’t say anything more on that topic, you decided to breach the subject of your mission.

“Thanks for having my back.”

“O’ course,” he replied. Again, his answer was short and you decided that you should probably just address the elephant in the room.

“You’re allowed to look at me, Soap. And you can talk about what you saw. I’m sure it’s not your everyday idea of intelligence gathering.”

He nodded and finally looked at you in the eyes.

“I just,” he started. “I don’t want to be like them. I’m sure when you’re like that, men stare at you like you’re a piece of meat. I don’t want to make you feel like I don’t view you as equal because of what you do. You’re part of the team now, Siren.”

You gave him a small smile. “That’s very considerate, Soap, really. But I promise, it really does not bother me. I choose to do this work, and I don’t want you to feel awkward with me. Trust me, you’re not like them. None of you are.”

Just as you finished your sentiment, Ghost walked in. You slid the jacket off of your shoulders and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” you said not waiting for a reply before grabbing your things to shower. You did not want to open up the can of worms that was your mission with him, not when you needed to prepare for tomorrow. You could trade smart remarks and barbs another day.

“No one will give you trouble?” Soap asked, likely referencing your outfit, now on display once more.

“If they did, they would regret it,” you said, showing off your still bloody knife from earlier with a sacchrine smile.

---

Siren

30 August 2022

0930, En route to cartel safehouse, Las Almas

You sat squished in between Soap and Ghost with Rodolfo driving and Alejandro in the passanger seat on the way to the safehouse. You were on the way to hopefully capture Hassan and secure any missles still in his hands. Before you could get very far, you saw Soap reach for his gun.

“White truck, four armed in the back.”

“Hey—tranquilo,” Alejandro said, turning his upper body to face Soap. “Easy—that’s normal here. Guns on the street is jurisdiction of the police.”

“Where are the police?” you asked.

“Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem,” he began, looking at you in the rearview mirror. “There are few here to uphold the law. And many of those who resist corruption… Disappear.”

“What about the military?” countered Soap.

“Well, because we are well trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos…”

“Why not you?” Ghost’s voice rang out from beside you.

Alejandro gave a shrug. “We grew up here. They call us Los Vaqueros… Cowboys. We love this place. And we will die fighting for it.” All you could think about was the brief conversation you had with Alejandro last night. It was clear he really did care for Las Almas. And would die for it as well.

As you continued to drive, you saw a cart with balloons and sweets serving families but with a twist: a cartel member in a skull balaclava holding a rifle was with them, interacting with them. 

“Kids, guns and balloons… that’s a new one,” Soap said, giving both Ghost and you a troubled glance.

“Narcos use generosity to win over the people,” Alejandro said in explanation.

“Even the children?” 

“Especially the children…” said Rodolfo, glancing at the three of you in the rearview.

Not even a few minutes later, you drove past another disturbing sight, one that made Rodolfo stop the car as you all looked on. An older blue pickup truck had a white sheet covered in spanish taped onto the bed of the truck. Under it lied two bodies covered with a cloth of the same mantra, their blood staining the cobblestone underneath. From the blood alone you could tell these deaths were not due to a simple bullet to the head. 

 “What’s on those sheets?” Soap asked.

“Narcomantas…” Alejandro said, a haunted look in his eyes.

“Cartel cloths,” explained Rodolfo.

“Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warnings, marking territory,” Alejandro shook his head. “Our streets are laced with death.” 

“Who’s Sin Nombre?” Ghost asked. 

“El Sin Nombre,” Alejandro corrected. “The Nameless… The leader of the Las Almas cartel.”

“Where can we find him?” Soap asked with a subtle threat in his tone.

“You can’t. No one knows who he is,” As Alejandro spoke, you drove past a mural to El Sin Nombre, along with the Las Almas cartel symbol: a rose with two crossed daggers. That same symbol was tattooed on Miguel’s arm along with the rest of his friends. “But he is everywhere, and this is a challenge,” Alejandro then chuckled and looked at his partner. “But Los Vaqueros like challenges.”

A beat passed before Rodolfo spoke up. “With your mask, you will fit in well here, Ghost.” Ghost looked at Rodolfo in the mirror while Soap made a hand gesture to not talk about it. You mainly just watched the exchange but couldn’t help to harden your gaze slightly at the remark; it doesn’t take a genius to infer that Ghost wore his mask for a reason.

“Hey, easy…” Alejandro told Rodolfo before directing him to avoid the roadblock ahead. “Checkpoint. It’s the army. Turn right, we’ll go around.” Rodolfo nodded and turned down a side street.

“Why?” Soap asked.

“Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. Like I told you, he is everywhere. The info on the narco’s phone showed the cartel is hiding Hassan in the village across the river. Let’s hope he’s still there.”

You continued driving out of the main hub in Las Almas with everyone left in their thoughts as the smooth stone turned to well-driven backroads. 

You were thinking about last night. The thrill of the game, the satisfaction at getting people to believe your new personality. How you wore so many masks that not many knew the real one, not even you sometimes. 

But at least you weren’t the only one that wore a mask. Maybe you wore them for different reasons but you both still hid behind them just the same.

---

Siren 

30 August 2022

1000, Cartel safehouse, Las Almas

The car slowed down, the gravel underneath the tires causing you to jerk into both Ghost and Soap. Rodolfo had stopped the car at what looked like a small handful of houses, all hidden between trees.

“Team leaders, circle up on me,” you heard Alejandro say as he exited the car. All of you followed in suit and gathered your weapons. You carried a sniper rifle with a bit harder of a punch, the LA-B 330, and a VEL 46, a submachine gun that was quick to fire and could take down enemies fast in close combat.

You all then gathered around Alejandro to hear what he had to say.

As some of his other teanm passed you, some took a daring glance at Ghost, who now sported sunglasses over his mask. Luckily for them, none commented, not even in Spanish.

“Weapons hot, Vaqueros.”

“Where are they holding Hassan?” As Soap asked, Rodolfo and Alejandro exchanged a fist bump before Rodolfo departed, leading his own group of men.

“White two-story building. Back of town,” Alejandro told Soap. Alejandro lead you, Ghost, Soap and two of his men, Rodriguez and Sanchez, to a solid gate with the connecting archway being made of pieced-together cobblestone.

As you stood outside of the gate beside Soap, Alejandro whispered something in Spanish to his radio, likely telling them to stand by.

Then he counted down from three and Ghost flung open the door for Alejandro to enter, gun drawn, followed by Ghost, Soap, you, then Rodriguez and Sanchez.

“Clear. Move,” Alejandro ordered.

“Civillians?” you asked. It didn’t seem like it was strictly a drug manufactoring hub. There were soccer balls, grills, and gardens around some of the houses, things that were more indicative of families than narcos.

“Gone,” Alejandro replied. “Cartel took over. It’s a hideout now.” You passed two abandoned houses before coming upon a gate like the first one.

“Good place to keep Hassan,” Soap commented.  

Just before Ghost opened the gate you could hear voices on the other side. 

As Alejandro entered, he radioed to his men to his team to move in while he fired at one of three members. You used your SMG to take out one while Soap took out another.

“They’re down,” Alejandro said. “Push up.”

You moved forward and turned a corner. Bullets were fired towards your team from the end, and you all returned fire, taking down the two men shooting at you.

“Clear,” you said after those two were killed.

“Secure this house, then we go for Hassan,” Alejandro told the five of you.

“Cartel will move him fast,” Ghost cautioned.

“Then we move faster.”

Voices from inside the house could be heard; there was no way they did not hear the gunfire being exchanged.

“Heads up, they’re ready. Take the door, Soap.” 

Soap opened the door, revealing a darkened interior. You didn’t have to search for anyone long because as soon as Soap was about to turn down the hall, you hear, “Muere, hijo de-“ before being cut off by gunfire.

“Doorway, right side,” you told Soap. He swung his rifle into the side room which was clear of any hostiles.

“Hassan could be anywhere…” Alejandro said.

Before Soap could check the next room, shots were already fired from within, the muzzle flash illuminating the room. Soap shot through the door and nothing else could be seen or heard.

“Room clear,” he said.

“Good shots, hermano.” 

“No sign of Hassan,” you commented.

“Not yet,” Alejandro replied.

The six of you pushed into the living room. It seemed like a cozy space, once upon a time. A red, well-used couch sat in front of a TV and the connected kitchen had white tile that contrasted with the dark, wood cabinets. It looked like a family home.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought so.

“What happened to the families here?” Soap asked.

“The cartel brings violence, so they leave,” Alejandro said. “Get ready to move.”

Just as Soap went to open the door, Alejandro stopped him. “Stand by…”

He radioed some of his men, with the only word you could translate being smoke.

A hissing noise filled the air as a heavy mist could be seen falling outside the windows.

“Where’s your family, Alejandro?” Soap asked.

“Soap!” you chastised. He gave you a look that was like, “What? It was just a question.”

Alejandro nodded at you and looked back to Soap. “I keep that a secret, hermano… To protect them.”

Ghost, ever the tactition, said, “We have concealment.” 

This earned an affirmative nod from Alejandro who then said, “Let’s move. On me.”

You followed him out the door and into the smoke. The house in front of you was two stories, white, with three bay windows. An abandoned red, yellow, and blue toy tricycle laid in the yard, the image causing a pang in your heart. 

“This is where they were hiding Hassan. Expect resistance,” Alejandro said. He then radioed to the other team your location.

“¡Vamos, vamos!”

Sanchez shot off the lock and Alejandro rolled a flash grenade in, letting it go off before entering. Shots were exchanged almost immediately; Alejandro took out a few, leaving the rest for you, Soap, and Ghost.

You took out one who was firing through a door before yelling out, “Clear!”

“Clear!” Alejandro confirmed. “No Hassan.”

“Second deck,” Ghost ordered.

“Si. Vamos. Let’s move upstairs and get Hassan.”

You followed Alejandro and Ghost up the stairs while Soap and Rodriguez came up last. As they reached the turn in the stairs, someone began shooting at them. Ghost quickly got rid of the threat before moving to the side of a doorway.

“If Hassan’s here, he’s in this room,” Alejandro said, gesturing with his head to the doorway Ghost stood at. Two cartel members fired at the five of you but stood little chance with five soldiers with automatic weapons aiming for them.

“Move in. Secure the room. I’ll cover,” Alejandro said once the bullets stopped coming from the room. You made your way through, stepping over one of the bodies in order to check the bathroom. You flung the door open and let out a breath when it was empty. “Clear. No Hassan.”

Alejandro radioed to his men that Hasssan was not in the building and Rodolfo seemed to confirm that he had gotten the message.

A desk was sat near a window and it had what looked to be an open backpack, a beer, a plate, and a binder that Ghost was now flipping through.

Alejandro heaved a sigh. “They must’ve moved him.”

“When?” Soap questioned, walking up to stand beside you and Ghost.

“Recently.”

Before you could chime in, Ghost pointed at a flag above the desk. It was a vibrant blue with a yellow symbol on it. It depicted a hand gripping an assault weapon in a fist in front of a world symbol. On it was text you couldn’t decipher but you didn’t need a translation to recognize the flag.

“Quds Force. That’s his flag,” Ghost said.

“He was here,” Alejandro said.

“Siren’s intel was good,” Soap concluded.

Before you could make a comment on it, Rodolfo’s voice came in urgently over the radio. Whatever he said caused Alejandro to curse.

“¡Mierda!”

He rushed to the bay windows facing the village entrance, causing you all to follow.

“What is it?” Ghost asked.

“The army,” Alejandro said ominously.

“We got reinforcements,” Soap said. However by Alejandro’s tone and subsequent orders to his men, you had a feeling this wasn’t an aid in your search for Hassan.

“Negative,” Alejandro said, confirming your suspicions.

“What’re we doin’?” Ghost asked quietly, kneeling in front of the wall between two of the windows. You took a place beside him, looking out the same window as Soap while Alejandro looked took the other side of the window Ghost was peeking through.

“Covering my men,” Alejandro answered. “Once they’re clear, we fall back.”

“You want us to engage with the fucking Mexican Army?” Soap asked, incredulously.

“No, carnal. These troops are paid by the cartel. They’re helping the cartel protect Hassan.”

You saw a couple cars drive into the village. You switched to your rifle to look through the scope at the approaching forces.

“Hold your fire,” Alejandro ordered. “We’ll dig in until my men are clear.”

“Multiple vehicles… Troop transports. Light-armor,” Ghost noted.

A beat passed. “Hold fire,” Alejandro repeated. “Let them get close.”

Then, a Mexican Army officer yelled, prompting Alejandro to say, “Weapons free!”

Bullets rained down into the house, causing the windows to break. You took aim with your scope and shot a few, only to find they didn’t go down in one shot like they should have. 

“Shit! They’re armored!” You yelled, trying to take some of them down but it was taking far more bullets than you were used to.

“Target the helmets! They’re weak!” 

You did, still annoyed that it was taking two shots to take them down. However, it was much less than the five to shoot them in the chest.

“They’re using shields!” Ghost yelled as he leaned out of cover to take aim at soldiers coming in the gate. 

“Semtex out!” You pulled out a Semtex from your tactical vest and chucked it at a combat shield; it luckily stuck and you watched it go off, taking out nearby soldiers as well as the one holding the shield.

“Nice throw!” Ghost yelled over all the noise.

“Thanks!” you yelled back, giving him a grin that seemed out of place with your surroundings.

Rodolfo’s voice came through Alejandro’s radio but you were too occupied to try and listen.

“Okay! My men are clear!” Alejandro yelled.

“Then we need to move!” Soap replied, narrowly, throwing a frag out the window.

“Fall back! This way!” Just as Alejandro ordered it, a canister was thrown into the room, an orange smoke erupting and causing you all to cough. 

“Tear gas!” you choke out. Tears came out of your eyes unwillingly and you felt like your lungs were burning. It was all you could do to keep moving one foot in front of the other without falling to the ground to catch your breath.

Alejandro broke a window in the back of the room and you all stumbled over and jumped out after him. Still coughing a little, you followed him as he ran through a break in the cobblestone wall acting as a fence around the village.

“Army’s right behind us!” You heard Soap yell from behind you.

Rodriguez replied to him in Spanish while Alejandro yelled out orders.

“Down the hill! We’ll lose them in the mountains! Fan out and stay close!”

Gunshots went off like fireworks behind you as you ran, doing all you can not to trip on the rocky terrain.

“¿La vieja rute?” Rodriguez yelled.

“Straight to the bridge!” Alejandro told him. A second later, a bullet hit Rodriguez, causing him to fall and roll to the bottom of the decline.

“Rodriguez!” Alejandro called out.

“Army’s on us!” you called out.

“Cover! Cover!” Alejandro gestured to the giant rocks along the path to crouch behind.

“Get to cover and return fire!” Ghost echoed.

You took out one after another with your rifle, pausing only to rechamber and reload. Distantly you could hear Alejandro talking to Rodriguez who was thankfully good enough to stand and get into cover. It seemed the bullet hit him in the backplate, saving him.

And just as you were about to remark that you were glad he was okay, you heard Rodriguez yell out, “Shit-! Sanchez is down!” 

You glanced to your right and a couple yards from you Sanchez was face down, blood pooling around where he was hit in the head. He looked so young earlier, about 20 years old.

Apparently, you took a second too long because Soap yelled for you. “Siren! Gotta focus!”

You nodded and put any thoughts of sympathy in the back of your head. He was right; focus was integral to survival; you knew that all too well.

The number of soldiers shooting at you trickled down to none after a few minutes of firing nonstop.

“Are we clear?” Soap asked.

“For now,” Alejandro said, sparing a glance at Sanchez’s body. “We gotta move! Go!”

“You know these trails?” Soap asked as you all began running down another hill, a smaller part of the large mountain you were currently near the top of.

“Very well, but so does the army,” Alejandro answered.

“We can’t hold off an army. We need extraction,” Ghost said.

Alejandro ordered for Rodriguez to call for exfil but before he could, shots were fired, hitting the tree trucks and rocks beside you.

“Contact!” Ghost yelled, running behind a large rock and gesturing for the rest of you to the same.

“All guns, hold here—take cover,” Alejandro said, peeking around the side of the rock to look at the above ridge you just ran from.

“Ghost, Soap, Siren, behind the rocks.”

Soldiers from the Mexican Army appeared at the top of the hill, raining gunfire on the rocks you all used for cover.

Distantly you heard Alejandro speak. “We suppress by fire, then we advance. ¡Disparen! Light them up-!” Then to Rodriguez, he told him, “Rodriguez, get comms up!”

As you shot anyone who appeared in your crosshairs, you heard Rodriguez attempting to hail Control with no success.

Between Alejandro, Soap, Ghost, and you, you had all taken out the immediate threat but knew it wasn’t over yet.

“We clear?” Ghost asked.

“For now,” Alejandro told him. “There’ll be more. Vamos.” Alejandro ran down more of the hill with the rest of you following. Dust was being kicked up due to all the foot traffic and you could feel clumps of grass getting caught in the tread of your boots.

“Any word from Rodolfo?” you asked both Mexican Special Forces officers. 

“No—we lost comms,” Rodriguez told you, his response eliciting a curse from his commanding officer.

“Puta… Let’s keep it moving. Through here.”

“Your man get the call out?” Ghost asked, referring to the request for extraction.

“Let’s hope so,” Alejandro offered, having no real way at this point of knowing what got through.

“What’s the plan?” Your fellow Sergeant questioned.

“There’s a bridge at the river,” Alejandro informed. “Extraction will be there.”

As if bullets weren’t enough, a rocket launcher shot, barely missing the five of you and exploded into a tree some distance in front of your team. 

“Contact! RPG!” Ghost yelled.

“On the ridge!” Alejandro called out, causing you to quickly take aim there, needing to get rid of the guy controlling it. While you could survive a bullet or two, a propelled grenade was a whole other ordeal.

You lined up the shot, took a quick breath, and pulled the trigger, getting a headshot and taking him out instantly. “RPG’s down!”

More gunfire was exchanged, with soldiers now just throwing regular grenades at the five of you, causing you to have to throw yourself out of the way at times.

Finally, those men were taken out as well.

“Anyone hit?” Alejandro called out.

“Negative!” Ghost replied.

“Good to go!” Soap added.

“I’m good!” you told him.

“Copy. On me!” Alejandro ordered, running down a much narrower part of the mountain.

He stopped at a ledge with a gap of ten feet or so between it and the next. “We’ll have to jump here!”

“Can we make that?” Soap questioned, not sounding convinced.

“Hasta la muerta, hermano,” Alejandro said before running and jumping onto the ledge and sliding down the smooth rock to the next ledge. Ghost went next, landing on his back a little harder than Alejandro but still making it. Soap went and then you did, making sure you got a running start before leaping. The breath got pushed out of your chest when your back hit the ground but at least you made it.

“Pinche cabrones aren’t far behind.” You were up fairly high, able to see a whole forest below from the rocky mountain you currently stood on.

“Where to, Alejandro?” Soap asked him.

“Soap push forward. Rodriguez, keep working the radio, rest o’ you watch for snipers.” 

Alejandro directed Soap where to go while you scanned the cliffside from where you came for any soldiers.

“Got anything?” Ghost asked. You shook your head at him while Alejandro replied to him.

“They’re out there… believe me…”

As you looked, Rodriguez still tried to get signal but the effort was fruitless.

“We need to get to the river…” Alejandro said in response to the lack of radio contact.

“Found it!” Soap yelled out. All of you followed him but before you could get very far, you could hear blades whirring, indicative of only one thing.

“Escucha… You hear that?” 

“Incoming heli…” you muttered. Just what you all needed.

“Si. Get to a firing position. We’ll take them by surprise.”

“Which way to the bridge?” Ghost questioned.

“Straight ahead. Past the helo. They’ll try to cut us off.”

“We’ll have to go through them,” Soap chimed in. You took cover behind large rocks once again and waited for soldiers to get closer.

“Weapons free!” you heard Alejandro command.

You peaked out and shot whoever you could see. Most came in through a bottle-necked opening but the others got smart once their comrades had been shot down. They fanned in from the sides as well, causing you all to have to take the out quickly before they attempted an all-out flank.

Another RPG was shot, but just like last time, you took them out quickly, allowing the team to focus on just shooting instead of worrying about being blown up.

A few minutes later a symphony of “Clear!” came from the five of you, allowing Alejandro to give his next order.

“Up the ridge! The bridge isn’t far! They may position shooters out here. Watch your backs.”

You all moved up, cresting the top of the hill and seeing a waterfall flowing from the top of a mountain in the distance. If this weren’t a true life and death experience, it would be painstakingly beautiful.

“There’s the bridge.” Alejandro pointed down to a bridge over a river at the base of the mountain.

“No visual on extraction,” you told him, looking with the scope on your LA-B 330.

“Comms didn’t get through. Hijo de puta…” Rodriguez said, muttering the last part.

“We’ll radio when we’re down there,” Alejandro assured. “This way.”

You continued to jump down ledges with Alejandro cautioning to watch your footing. Rodriguez seemingly agreed, saying something about it being dangerous.

“You know your way,” Ghost observed.

“We used to cut school and play here,” Alejandro told the four of you.

“Until the cartels moved in?” Soap asked after landing on a lower ledge.

“Exactly. The narcos changed everything.”

As you all continued moving along the mountain side, a bullet struck the wall next to you, making you jerk back.

“Sniper!” Ghost yelled. “Move!”

Rodriguez followed by Soap then you attempted to make your way to Alejandro and Ghost, both of whom already made it past the part where you had to hug the wall and take small sidesteps to make it across.

In front of Soap, a bullet hit Rodriguez right in the chest, causing him to fall forward and off the edge, tumbling down the steep cliff. If the bullet didn’t kill him, the fall would have.

“Rodriguez!” Alejandro yelled. A second later he informed the remaining three of you, “Sniper’s down!”

“Bloody good shot, mate!” you heard Ghost praise. Soap and you followed behind the other two listening as the Mexican Army could be heard looking for you.

“Army’s still trailing us,” Soap said.

“We’ll gain some ground!” Alejandro replied before jumping down to a ledge below. You jumped as well after Ghost, cursing when the impact hurt much more than you were expecting. As you followed the Colonel and your own Lieutenant, your heart dropped into your stomach. 

Ghost then echoed your concerns to Alejandro. “You lead us to a dead end, mate.”

“We jump from here!” Alejandro said, leaping off. “Don’t lose your weapons!”

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, looking down at the height currently between you and the water. You weren’t necessarily afraid of heights. You had been to the top of many buildings before and you were no stranger to skydiving. However, you did have a fear of falling without any protection, which you assumed was a fear every human had.

Except Ghost apparently with the way he was talking.

“Your turn, Sergeant!” he told Soap. Soap hesitated for a second before running and leaping off, clutching the straps holding his guns to him.

“Siren, you’re up!” Ghost said looking at you. After a second of hesitation he addressed you again. “Siren, we stay here, we’re dead! Now jump!”

Honestly, you were going to jump but apparently it wasn’t quick enough for Ghost because he grabbed your hand in his.

“Hold onto your weapons, Sergeant!” 

He backed up with you and you both ran off the edge, jumping off hand in hand. You were probably squeezing his hand half to death but you weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking of the air rushing past you and how quickly you were falling to the water and how all your bones could break if you landed slightly behind the water.

You closed your eyes before you got too close to the ground. Luckily, instead of rocks, you felt cold water wash over you. The force with which you hit the water caused your hand to be pulled away from Ghost’s. Not that it mattered; both of your hands were occupied swimming upwards.

You took a gasping breath when your breached the surface. 

“You good, hermanos?” you heard Alejandro say, though it wasn’t as clear due to the water still in your ears.

“Affirm,” Ghost said from beside you.

“Soap?”

“Breathing.”

“Siren?”

“Alive,” you confirmed.

You looked over to Ghost to find him already glancing at you. You nodded to him in thanks before turning your attention to Alejandro’s orders.

“Move down river to the bridge. Use rocks for cover,” Then he spoke into his radio. “All stations, this is Victor 0-1—How copy?”

To your surprise, the radio crackled to life, an American accent coming through, although broken up.

“-dow 1! Do you—?  -ay again, -o you re—?”

“Radio’s picking up somethin’,” Soap commented.

“Sounds American,” you added. You suspected it was the PMC group but couldn’t know for sure until you got confirmation.

Gunshots started to hit the rocks you were behind as the Mexican Army stood on the other side of the river. 

“Here they come. Weapons free!” the Colonel ordered.

“Contact front!” Ghost yelled.

You used your SMG to shoot back but it was difficult; the current was stronger than you had expected and it was a struggle to shoot straight and stay behind cover.

“Army reinforcements rolling in!” Alejandro yelled. “Keep pushing up the river!”

You dove under the water to avoid being seen and tried to move quickly to the next rock. Like before, you all exchanged fire for a few minutes before being ordered by Alejandro to move up. And again, you dove under, this time to get under a large tree trunk that spanned the width of the river.

“Enemy vehicles! Right bank!” you heard Ghost yell, his voice a little distorted from you being underwater.

You came back to the surface behind another rock in the middle of the river. Not only was it hard to shoot but you were beginning to run low on ammo as well.

“The river’s slowing us down, mate!” Ghost yelled to Alejandro.

“It gets shallow up ahead,” Alejandro cautioned. “Swim up! Keep moving!”

Now you could see the bridge that you did above. However, it wasn’t empty.

“Vehicles on the bridge!” Ghost called out.

“They’re not ours!” the Colonel replied. “Fuck—! It’s the army!”

“Get to cover!” Your Lieutenant ordered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered, trying your best to return fire, but it was becoming increasingly clear this was turning into a disastrous situation.

“We have to hold here and get extraction,” Alejandro said, narrowly missing a bullet by leaning more towards the rock you were all behind.

Soap continued to shoot and yelled out his frustration. “We can’t do shite against that armor!” 

Before the four of you were overrun, which looked to have been coming up soon, the radio crackled to life once more.

“This is Shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!”

“Who the hell is that?” Alejandro asked.

“Commander Graves,” Ghost answered, “Shadow company. They’re with us.”

Shots came from the air, pelting down on the bridge, causing you to feel relief well up within you.

“Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7!” Ghost hailed. “Good shots! Fire for effect!”

Before long, the entire bridge collapsed, unable to take all the firepower aimed at it.

“All stations, no enemy movement detected. You’re clear. It’s good to see you boys and girl.”

“Likewise, mate,” Ghost told him.

“This way!” Alejandro ran out of the river and into the side forest.

“Graves, we’ve located a vehicle for exfil,” Ghost informed him, following behind you.

“Roger that. Be advised, we got a possible hit on Hassan, two klicks north of your position.”

“That’s cartel land. They have a compound there,” Alejandro commented as you all made your way to a camo-covered pickup truck.

“Load in!” Ghost commanded.

“I’ll drive!” Alejandro said, getting into the driver’s seat while Soap got in the passenger’s side, leaving you and Ghost the backseat.

“You guys good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?”

“Let’s wrap this fucker up, Graves,” Soap replied.

“Solid copy. We are pushing to the target di-rectly. Shadow-1 out.”

Taglist:

@jinxed-yep@july4th1918-mycaptain@rickgrimes12643@sarcasticwalrus0@aykxz98@midaribaby@your-highnessmarvel@ssqra@voidinfernal@nobody-000@theyounglingslayer@untoldshortsofthefandoms@memeorydotcom@kuutski@sodbos@lenasvoid@caleb-bailea@clayzayden@thelesbianwithissues@luxuricious@kwiltshire13@summerbbygirl@persephones-garden@andromacher@jaysealynn@eternallysarcastic@cryingdvst@mystic-of-fire@bakusatsuhoe@tranquiiit@multiple-boxes-of-earthworms-de@kc-957@scaredknight@mrsspector-grant@polar-pluto@orcishkitty@sodbos@iyaheartsabbyanderson@fluffyspaceprincess@itsagrimm@chiggennuggie@comedinewithmeyeh@muffinsz@bingblomp123@blazinghost@berrxessi @elentiyaiswriting@scaredknight@lovingly-kc@almostcrystalized101@spider-thot0115@starcoveredhoney@cvpitvno@harmssss@somnolentintrovert@callyum@rosegxoxo@thatawokenhunter@syd-vixious@orestukassss@ryunniez@kaitlynisinfinite@peachfridges@cocosie@plutogamer@way-of-love@anitdot@sleepynyx@swissy23@seasaltt99@isasinterlude@cynicalmnm@euovennia@ho3forghost@spoonz@teaties@stilestheabominablesnowman@embers-of-alluring@ohh-theaudacity@raswiet@freegardenstudenttree@angelsquid@workof-a-rr-t@le0thely0n@skulli33@lovely29701@fantasticcopeaglepasta@un1k0@stupidstupidstupids@tojisprincess@urfavgay67@doodle-cat16@ryzetop@experienixie

[love-bigboss1fan-me]

Lol even more ramblings about the similarities between MGS and DS. The same warnings apply in spoilers for both games and if you find the dialogue heavy. Enjoy 💜

ID: we start with a scene of Deadman and Sam talking about the cufflinks and how Bridges will monitor his condition, to Die-Hard man and Sam arguing, then to Higgs in his new red, black, and amber cybernetic suit and hold that image for a while then it goes black for a few minutes before showing Higgs in his original military gear and golden mask with the Demens standing behind him, to Fragile’s flashback with Higgs walking her to the edge of the timefall and then we end with a logo of APAC’s and a quote from the DS2 trailer, saying “It wasn’t the UCA that made the final decision, it was APAC. A private organization.” End

Subtitles:

Meryl: “The nanomachines keep track of the soldiers and their real-time personal data 24 hours a day. They monitor each man’s position, movement, speed, firing accuracy… wounds, rations, water intake, and supply… Sweet secreted, heart rate, blood pressure, and sugar levels, oxygen… All the data gathered on the body condition on sensory organ data showing pain and fear… Data on every internal response within the body. All of it is collected by an AI at the system’s core. It was creepy at first, knowing you’re being watched 24/7, but I have gotten used to it. It gives us a lot of advantages in the field too. We get a clearer picture of what’s going on around us, so there is less confusion during missions. And our nanomachines communicate with each other, making teamwork a lot smoother. The nanomachines network inside each member’s body allows us to share each other’s senses. They can see what I see. And it helps control pain.”

Solid Snake: “Is that part of the System, too?”

Meryl: “With SOP, my team can literally operate as one. And that’s not all the System does for us. It is also a security guarantee against the PMCs.”

Solid Snake: “Security guarantee?”

Meryl: “That’s right. The PMCs are combat groups without states or ideologies. They’re not fighting out of nationalism or for a cause. They don’t care why the war is being fought. They are just bodies, fighting on someone else’s behalf. They’re mercenaries. A commodity. So it is easy to imagine them betraying their clients by joining with the enemy, or refusing to fight… Or committing humanitarian atrocities. To keep these things in check… They ensured that no one can use firearms or military vehicles without the proper System ID. It’s true for every piece of equipment out there.”

[grandhotelabyss]

What do you think of the charitable reading that Chu is attempting a sub rosa Socratic dialogue in her ‘reviews’ - that a good percentage of the time, she is clearly taking the piss; but it’s ultimately for the reader’s edification?

If so, the joke's on me. Her views on literature are such boilerplate grad-student Marxism, if written up more wittily than her peers could manage, that I think she probably acquired them honestly in academe and genuinely believes them. Now when she actually writes about her own identity—when she vaunts that she's a pornsick automisandrist autogynephile and dares you to criticize her for saying it or being it—that I think is meant to have the Socratic function of trying to make the imagined interlocutor (in this case, the middlebrow "shitlib" reader, presumably cis-white-PMC-female) understand Foucault-style that rights are based on the sheer exercise of self-assertion and power, not pathetic pleas for empathy or understanding. That's why only she could have written "On Liking Women" and Females, but anybody from NYU English could have written the Zadie Smith review. (Okay, "anybody from NYU English" would have supplied the famous Gramsci line about traces and inventories in the review's final paragraph rather than quoting Leavis [!] making the same Gramscian point about Austen [!!] in The Great Tradition [!!!]. I never said she wasn't clever.)

[puckish-rogue-archive-deux]

Lore Dump: Current State of Affairs

Note: The following is a discussion on this blog's main verse and what one could expect when doing crossover threads. As the original SR series is effectively dead in the ground, and as someone who wasn't the biggest fan of how it ended, I am basing this entirely off of my own ideas regarding canon, and my revised version of the third game. Please note that at this point in time, I do not have a post that details just what exactly I've done to rework the events of the third game. So until such a post is made, feel free to send me questions regarding just about anything; from plot points, characters, the setting, and so on. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy what's spoken about here.

Something that I've always been fascinated by were the long-lasting consequences of what the Saints had done during the gang war in Steelport. Because let's be real here; the fact that a street gang was able to completely wipe out a large scale criminal organization, whose power and connections were on a global scale, and win against a paramilitary task force that was under the control and supervision of the US government, which was more than likely really fucking embarrassing for them, is monumental.

And when I say monumental, I mean do you know how fucking insane that is? Like, do you know how that's going to affect the world? I would not put it past any kind of governing body to get a wee bit paranoid over this shit. "Well, if the Saints were able to hold their own against the fucking US military, what does that tell every other criminal organization across the globe?". That's horrifying for people in high positions of power! It sets an example. Plants an idea.

So, I can see them trying to deal with this in a number of ways; either they start dumping all their money into law enforcement in order to counteract organized crime, stay vigilant and play by ear, hire outside forces (I like to consider the Masako and STAG as the catalyst for PMC's becoming much more prevalent in this world). Or, special bonus crime answer, you work with OTHER criminal organizations in order to take out what you consider a huge threat. No matter what choice is made, the end result is all of them coming off as if they're panicking like crazy.

Something to consider as well is the public's perception towards what transpired in Steelport, and the way everything was handled. While the Saints' general popularity may have waned somewhat, there's definitely people out there coming to their defense. Or, at the very least, arguing in their favor. They could be seen as arguably better than a lot of the gangs they've gone up against (something that is hinted at in NPC dialogue during the second game), and they did prevent an entire city from being demolished because the US left a dude in charge who would do absolutely anything in his power to get the job done. So, like, hmm, maybe funny purple gang is a necessary evil?

But on the contrary we have the obvious. "How can you defend a bunch of criminals? Maybe things wouldn't have escalated this badly if they weren't around. These people are scumbags! Worst of the worst! And their leader is a godforsaken psychopath (sociopath, maniac, nutcase, whatever you feel like blurting out that day)". None of it is particularly surprising. Most folk don't really like the idea of letting a gang exist, no matter what sort of perceived "good" they might have done for the community. These are also the same kind of people who may even support whatever kind of law or program may be used in order to strike back against organized crime, regardless of how it may impede upon their life or the lives of other people.

"And what about the criminal underworld? Wouldn't this affect them too? Oh, please tell me more, Andre! You're very smart and creative." Ha ha! Why thank you, Hypothetical Person. But, yes, the criminal underworld will absolutely be affected. I mean, put yourself in the position of a gang leader; how would you personally feel seeing the Saints accomplish such an incredible feat? Either you're gonna try gunning for their leader's head, find yourself inspired enough to try and be just a little bit bolder, recognize the potential threat they are to your empire, or be a real stupid motherfucker and continue to underestimate them. It's highly dependent on the gang itself and the kind of person leading them.

The Saints are in a very interesting position currently. They have cemented themselves as a criminal organization to keep an eye on. A gang that has the potential to put themselves in the history books depending on what choices they make. And knowing how ruthlessly ambitious The Boss happens to be, it is almost guaranteed that the Saints will be doing whatever possible in order to expand this empire of theirs, no matter who might stand in their way.

It is the dawn of a new era within this world, and the 3rd Street Saints are carving their path to greatness.

[delicatebluebirdruins]

why I think Not A Hero is called Not A Hero

this is a ramble and I am sorry

definition (because i second guessed myself and then reading the defnition was amused): In mythology and legend, a man, often of divine ancestry, who is endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for his bold exploits, and favored by the gods/ .A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life.

so in timeline the events of RE6 happened in 2012/2013 and the events where Chris watching most of his team die (including a 22 year old called Finn), getting post traumatic amnesia, heavy drinking over a extended period of time file “ Upon waking up, Chris had no recollection of who he was or what had occurred, but his mind was wracked by an overwhelming and inexplicable guilt. Chris determined to run away, and he left the hospital before anyone could check in on him... Chris lived as a moody and violent drunk, hoping that he could numb himself to the pain of what happened that fateful day”. Going back into it all with a new team and them dying. Finally watching Piers Nivens get so seriously injured that he saw no other way but to infect himself with the C- Virus (to which there is no cure after they mutate its a death sentence) and made Chris leave as he stayed behind (Piers sacrifice leading Chris to remain with the BSAA) and in Vendetta so 2014 Chris was in another incident involving a mansion where everyone but him died and because of this incident his friend Rebecca Chambers was endangered because she figured out how to make a vaccine and other things happened *coughs* the bad guy dressed her up as his dead wife and it was creepy

and in Not A Hero itself Chris was told to look out for soliders that Lucas had captured and save them. He did not succeed. At the end of the dlc he and Veronica have a conversation the scene is Chris looking at the family photo of the Bakers and the dialogue is this “Chris:... "Think we did any good here?" Veronica: "Not for them, unfortunately, but the mold is contained. Hopefully, they're Evie's last victims." Chris: "Hopefully."

Chris has been doing this for 20 years and has lost a lot of friends and lots of strangers and even returning to a small scale outbreak he wasn’t able to save them. He thought it was over so getting the achievement at the end “you’re the hero now“ you felt that as well (random song rec Victory by two steps from hell)... and then village happened and you lose your mind a bit and it all goes back to hell

and why Chris is working with Blue Umbrella

its literally in a file that is in your inventory from the start of the game and he wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t fully trust them of course. And PMC means Private Military Contractor

For many of you this is your first mission with us, so we wanted to make it clear what Umbrella is all about.Though many of our staff hail from the infamous pharmaceutical giant

Umbrella

, our purpose is to make amends for the atrocities perpetrated under the Umbrella name. That is why we re-incorporated as a PMC in

2007

.We will put a stop to not only anyone who is engineering or selling bioweapons, but those who support those efforts as well. We made a mess and now we have to clean it up. By keeping the Umbrella name, we show that we take responsibility for that mess and we want you to remember that you carry this responsibility with you in every mission.

BSAA Alpha Team members. I’m including this list because of a few of the files from RE6 which stated that Chris “treated them like a family and not like expendable soldiers.“

Jeff BSAA operator 2013 Deceased

Keaton BSAA operator 2013 Deceased

Rose, Marco Explosives expert 2013 Deceased

Reid BSAA operator 2013 Deceased

Nivans, Piers Lieutenant 2012 and 2013 Deceased

Redfield, Chris Team captain 2012 and 2013 Alive

MacCauley, Finn Explosives expert 2012 Deceased

Airhart, Ben BSAA operator 2012 Deceased

Alfonso, Carl BSAA operator 2012 Deceased

Walker, Andy BSAA operator 2012 Deceased

STARS Members (because i can)

Aiken, Richard Backup man Communications expert Bravo Deceased Dewey, Edward Rear-security Pilot Bravo Deceased Frost, Joseph Omni man Vehicle and equipment maintenance technician;qualified to handle dangerous goods. Alpha Deceased Marini, Enrico Leader Bravo leader Bravo Deceased Speyer, Forest Omni man Maintenance, Sharpshooter Bravo Deceased Sullivan, Kenneth J. Pointman Chemist Bravo Deceased

[macgyvertape]

FF14 Heavensward notes

Took me a month to realize its Heavensward not Heaven-sword.

I’ve given up on crafting/gathering classes. I don’t intend to keep playing after finishing the story in all the expansions and I don’t want to invest the time to level. Its getting tempting already to just watch the cutscenes for other classes instead of leveling them 

Its also nice to decide to not care about transmog hunting or saving items for glamours unless I know I’ll use them. When I played WoW during Legion I invested a lot of effort in glamorous and now I don’t even play that game.

 It took 5 months to get through HW, so in post expansion patches I gave up and looked up major Shadowbrings spoilers because I wanted to know why Greek gods are in this game? Ppl were talking about hades and I was wondering if it was a crossover with Hadesgame, but no it’s the same dude who shoots the cat boy who shows up whenever I look up anything about Garleans or Ascians. I can see why he’s so popular he’s peak “poor little meow meow” 

So know I know the overall shadowbringers plot directly related to skunk hair asshole and warriors of darkness so its nice that I’m not totally lost on cosmic lore 

Main Quest

Oh wow voice actor budget went up, and Alphinaud got a new voice actor who sounds bland

Ishgard is a very weirdy scaled city, everything is so tall and vaguely gothic and all the clothing fashion dates to late middle ages with Hennins and Henry the 8th style fur coats

Oh nice that we get choice in dialogue and can be sympathetic towards Iceheart. That she has the echo, is she like our narrative foil?

Haurchefant really is a bro, saving me from an escort quest then supporting me during trial by combat

Back to main storyline, time to go fight all those Crystal Braves we trained. A based plotline would have the message “this is why PMCs are bad”

Its really hard to judge Ilberd’s  “you’re being used as a pawn just like me” when like i have no idea of the stakes of the conflict I’m involved in, but I do feel like a pawn in the Dragon vs Catholic snow elf war. Also his accent in voiced dialogue took me by surprise

Told Auphinad “why don't we just leave?”, and i know it doesn’t change anything but i like to pretend thats why we are going to see Iceheart

We get to call Iceheart Ysayle now, which is great that we can travel with her

Breaking into the Hive quest is the worst quest yet, like holy shit it fucking sucks with how easy it is to pull too much aggro and how trash White Mage is at doing damage

Ysayle is the best part of this expansion, road-tripping with her

Heavansword makes the whole Primal summoning super interesting, if the dragon is to be believed summoning not the actual god but your biased perception of one. (After looking up spoilers guess all gods are fake lmao)

 Wow Ysayle having a crisis of faith and we just leave her there…..

So glad Lolorito gets voice lines as he explains his plans. What a smug conniving asshole, he's the most engaging antagonist yet and its been 1 conversation. Ilberd still asshole but barely not as bad as i thought that he supported a bloodless coup to get resources for his home country rebellion against the Empire. Sucks that I guess he’s being cast away as a political pawn

Whats the irl equivalent here for the Crystal Braves and them being used as a tool in a coup? They’re obviously a PMC but I guess the Syndicate plants was just a hostile takeover

Wow so the big twist were the Dragon brothers were swapping along eyes like its Naruto

Nice to see Estinien and Ysale team up since it seems the war was founded on bullshit, and just kept going by the Elf catholics trying to gain more power

The moment where my friend and I pause to talk about how attractive Hilda is. All that leather and those boots, its that feeling where I’m both attracted to her and envious because I want to look like her but that leather look is a lot harder to pull off irl

RIP TO Haurchefant, my favorite snow elf dude. “A smile better suits a hero” I’m gonna burn this whole ass church down, actually a very tragic death 

Like I am trying to follow the story and the characters but somehow the way it was presented and that I only play a few hours a week I didnt realize Fortemps and Haurchefant were related until the father was literally sobbing and saying son

WHYS THE EMPIRE HERE? WHATS ALLAG? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DRAGONS AND YSALE? Like she seemed to be dropped from the story. Varis zos Galvus, I want to look him up but the wiki is full of spoilers :(

Fool me once with Nero in the Crystal tower shame on me. Fool me twice, Lucia is a Garlean that’s it time to be suspicious of anyone with any sort of bangs or headband

Y'shtola is back, the expansion has gotten better, and she has a nice outfit upgrade

Hilda is back again as we say goodbye to all the characters, wish she had been in more quests 

Ysayle heroically sacrificing herself for us, sad to see it happen and fuck the empire 

Doing Heavensword dungeon: I thought we had killed Lahabrea. My friend: somehow Lahabrea has returned

The part where the pope-king transforms, its comical how ginormous he becomes

Estinien becoming Nidhogg has been the most interesting thing for his character. I know he and Alymeric are fan favorites are fan favorites but I’m meh about them 

Are the ascians on the fucking moon?! Was this a much bigger reveal pre-Endwalker and all the moon's haunted memes?

“Warrior of Darkness” looks like bog standard scruffy dude video game protagonist. Is he meant to look like the generic scruffy guy from the marketing?

Great to see Thancred back again in a cool new outfit plus eyepatch! Lmao he emerged from the livestream bucknaked!

Aymeric is just fucking stabbed in the street! Drama

The rescue the hostages mission was the worst mission in a while, super long and really slow as WHM as it doesn’t let you heal the NPC way through

I don’t fucking trust Unukalhai because they’re wearing a mask, and I don’t trust Urianger because he wasn’t running around Ishgard with us (aside from the Ascian cutscenes the player sees)

Don’t think we’ll be getting Minfilia back from being bonded with the Mother Earth Crystal Spirit. Especially if she wants us to kill all ascians, have we never not been in a “holy war” aside from fighting the Empire? (Having looked up spoilers lmao)

Alphinaud’s really going through it 

Aymeric is asking us out for a drink, shame I’m meh about him

I didn’t like Emmanellain and that was before he ordered a protestor shot and killed. Punching Thancred while whining is like point of no return for like-ability

FUCK this grand melee, have to do this long ass fight over again because my healer can’t burst down the boss before he casts the party wipe spell.  He still cast it again on Very Easy but atleast it didn’t kill me

Can’t believe we just toss the eyes into the abyss and don’t do anything to destroy them. Lord of the Rings style i expect these to reappear since there was no volcano. LMAO less than an hour later and there’s some going to get those eyes

Aymeric wants a dinner date with the player, sorry buddy but your not my type

Rip to the scions but the Warriors of Darkness party has better fashion

Tragic backstory, LMAO alphinaud was just like “would your plan even work?“ and they’re like “uuuhh enough talking”. Somehow Uriangar with a bandanna over his face is perfectly disguised, from everyone but the player. Like its been years of IRL experience wearing masks that covering just the bottom of your face doesn’t stop people from recognizing you

Excited to finally see Yda and Papalymo

Urianger is such an over dramatic asshole (complementary)

The warriors of darkness are pretty sympathetic

So Lahabrea and Igeyorhm got sucked into the eyes and are still there? I guess Elbidius didn’t care to get them out, or couldn’t? Even spoilered on a bunch of Ascian lore I’m still confused 

Baelsar’s Wall dungeon: i liked Ilberd as an asshole character right until the mechanically complex fight where he went “sloooppppy” every 15 seconds. ╰（‵□′）╯

Nero shows up talking about Omega, congrats to you Mr 2nd Place Pathetic Loserman

Very relieved Yda takes off her mask and she isn��t a Garlean

Side Quests

The Dark Knight quest feels very edgy in a fun way, especially when Fray’s eyes glow red. At first I was like "oh dark knight like batman" then I realized edgier and more like Konrad Curze. Shame the class starts at lvl 30 it seems cool thematically and I do love wielding a giant 2h sword but I don’t want to level this class right now

I unlocked Red Mage, I like the style of it but there are a lot of buttons. The tumblr infographic was actually really helpful and I now enjoy playing it

I thought WHM was questline was boring, but now after doing the final lvl 60 quest I just hate it. It took me 10 min running around the caves to find the right spot and then it was just healing a dragon (flashbacks to healing a tree)

I love the Dancer outfit but the class abilities and playstile are super confusing

Doing the gunbreaker quest, and there are tiger-men? (Radovan) like my character is a human who has cat traits but this is more on the furry side where the tiger has human qualities

[firecodex]

Transcript

Steven:

There are many things in this world that one cannot accomplish alone.

That's why it's so essential that we have friends…and that we help each other when we're in need.

With you and I and our Pokémon all working together, [player name]…

I feel like we could overcome any disaster that comes at us. Don't you agree?

Transcript

Steven:

I've been keeping an eye on you and your Pokémon. You've been training hard, pushing yourselves to grow stronger.

I like to see partners who do their best together. That's why I like you so much!

[drogba-prospect]

Gender norms, poverty and armed conflict in Côte D’Ivoire: engaging men in women’s social and economic empowerment programming - PMC

Engaging men is a critical component in efforts to reduce intimate partner violence (IPV). Little is known regarding men’s perspectives of approaches that challenge inequitable gender norms, particularly in settings impacted by armed conflict. This article describes men’s experiences with a women’s empowerment program and highlights men’s perceptions of gender norms, poverty and armed conflict, as they relate to achieving programmatic goals. Data are from 32 Ivorian men who participated in indepth interviews in 2012. Interviews were undertaken as part of an intervention that combined gender dialogue groups for both women and their male partners with women’s only village savings and loans programs to reduce IPV against women. Findings suggested that in the context of armed conflict, traditional gender norms and economic stressors experienced by men challenged fulfillment of gender roles and threatened men’s sense of masculinity. Men who participated in gender dialogue groups discussed their acceptance of programming and identified improvements in their relationships with their female partners. These men further discussed increased financial planning along with their partners, and attributed such increases to the intervention. Addressing men’s perceptions of masculinity, poverty and armed conflict may be key components to reduce men’s violence against women in conflict-affected settings.

NOUCHI

[crimechannels]

By • Olalekan Fagbade BREAKING: Twist in Niger crisis as Russian Mercinarries arrive Niamey   There is a new twist in the crisis rocking the military coup in Niger Republic following the arrival of Russian mercenary group, Wagner, soldiers, who have landed in Mali with arms and ammunition suspectedly to support the Niger military junta in the fight against ECOWAS troops. The Wagner group leader Yevgeny Prigozhin, a few days after appearing in a video at a time he was believed to be in Congo, showed up in Mali, dressed in military fatigue. But he claimed that the arrival of its team in Mali is to assist the country's military government to dislodge terrorists and “any other interest”, according to a report monitor on Al-Jazeera. Mali and Burkina Faso, also ruled by military junta, have both declared their backing for the Niger coupists. They have faulted the sanctions slammed on Niger by Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and the African Union (AU) following the military take-over. They pledged to join Niger in resisting any form of force that might be used against the Niger junta. To give vent to their pledge, they have reportedly moved troops to Niamey as a backup to the Niger military. ECOWAS also has rejected the three-year transition plan hinted by Niger coup leader General Abdourahamane Tchiani, reaffirming the possibility of use of force should dialogue fail. The junta has also insisted that it would not respect ECOWAS position. This is partly why the Wagner presence in Mali, which shares a long border with Niger is believed to be part of giving support in Niger. The coup leaders had requested support from Wagner, and Prigozhin said his men were ready to provide it. A former Russian official claimed Wagner and the Russian state conspired to facilitate the military coup in Niger. “The recent coup in Niger was carried out in close cooperation with Russian special services and Private Military Company (PMC) consultants,” claimed Russian military blogger Mikhail Zvinchuk, a former press officer for Russia’s defence ministry, who uses the alias “Rybar”. #Nigercrisis

[firecodex]

Transcript

Colress: I must get stronger as a Trainer for my own research!

Colress: I'm so happy that I can do my research while battling!

[firecodex]

Transcript

N: Being with Reshiram on such a beautiful day makes me so happy.

N: Reshiram's a dear friend. It comforted me when I was going through a rough time.

N: You should take good care of all your friends who stay with you.

[firecodex]

Transcript

Melony:

I think my battle style is quite severe.

I don't just attack—I use tactics, too, when needed.

My battles may not always be the flashy kind that audiences seem to like… But it is what it is.