#sergeant schoonover

[mozzafiato-e9-angelrealm]

Earth Nine Oneshot

Posted from my quotev

2,408 Words

I arrive at basic training for the Marines. The day I get there is 4/6/3/1993 Fresh out of Hogwarts, I'm 18 years old and was scouted out by a few government agents due to some experiments that were performed on me when I was young. They sent a fellow military trainee named Billy Russo to keep an eye on me and make sure that I took the offer they gave. 

I step out of the vehicle that I was transported here in from the airport. Russo is following close behind as we walk to the barracks on base. 

"Did you actually know who you were looking for, Russo? Or did you just guess at it?"I ask as we walk. 

"I knew. They gave me a full profile because they wanted to be sure that they really got you and that you weren't hiding out or faking. Did they run tests yet?"

"No. Just the longest interview I've ever had to do and the most personal one."

"Hopefully you're used to being poked and prodded then because you'll be dealing with quite a lot of that tonight."

"Why be honest with me though? You're probably safer if you don't. You could've just told me it was some chance meeting. Acted like you didn't know who I was or something."

"Yeah, that sounded awful. You've had enough issues as is you don't need more of them. I read all the things they found out about you. Your mom dying when you were hardly two months old, being left on the street as an infant, being kidnapped and genetically engineered until age ten, being adopted and taken in by wizards. Must've turned your whole world around."

"Oh it did. How'd you know I was kidnapped though?"

"Because apparently our boss knows a lot about the guy who did it though they haven't been able to catch him yet. Apparently he's known for genetically fucking people over."

"Wow. So he's been stalking me. Great selling point."

"You have abilities that others don't and the people we work for now think it could help with whatever they're trying to do. So they just want to make sure you're who they think you are. And that you can actually do what they're hoping for. Hopefully it just means some quick tests and extensive training. I don't want anything further that could endanger you."

"I'm sure you're getting tired of my questioning you but, why did that come off as 'in danger' to you?"

"I guarantee you can handle yourself. I met your mom. But I just don't want anyone else doing worse to you than has already been done. You've had one hell of a life. I just don't want to make it any harder if it can be avoided is all."

"Sounds like you've had a shit life too."

"Yeah, but I'm not explaining that."

"Fair. Probably smart too."

"They only do background checks on those with such... unique problems. Mine probably are nothing of interest to anyone but me."

"Unique? Sounds like I'm not the only one with my issues."

"Oh believe me, you're unique. How many blood tests have you had since you were born?"

"Like a million. Why?"

"Exactly. If you weren't unique, they wouldn't test you like that. They would've known that it worked and moved on. It's not a routine procedure if they have to keep testing it to make sure each and every awful thing they did to you actually worked. It was an experimental thing. They wanted to know what you could take even if you died doing it. Luckily they got their creepy ass order right because you're still alive and you're doing just fine. Apparently fine enough to be a soldier."

"You could not have read all of that."

"We have the results of every test they ever did to confirm things."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that your original parents were demons that's why your last name is Morningstar. And why you were instructed not to use it because if it ever came up on your ID you'd be cast aside and put in an asylum for the rest of your life whether you could control it or not."

"I knew that part. Sarge explained it to me. What else?"

"Well, you're related to more deities than humans as far as we know. The tests they did weren't extensive enough to find out everyone those experiments effected. You also use magic, but you knew that part. That magic extends much further than just the spells you were taught in school and the kinds of magic that you were told about. You also have superhuman abilities that haven't been explored nearly enough to tell what all of them are. There's a lot of them that we hadn't heard of before your case."

"Wow, you sound like you know more than they wanted you to."

"I saw the blood tests and didn't want to be completely oblivious to what was going on."

"At least you're smart."

We make it to the barracks and are immediately met at the door by the sergeant and doctor that I talked to upon signing my contract for the military. 

"You won't be joining the other soldiers just yet."the doctor says.

"May I ask why?"I reply.

"There's still some processing needed before we can determine your starting place."

"What does that entail?"

"It'll all be explained later. Just not here."

"Fine."

"Russo, you're dismissed."Sergeant Orange says.

"I apologize if it's considered disrespect, sir, but he's not going anywhere if I'm not next to him. I was told to overlook everything that happens regarding him and I'll do it. That part isn't optional. I go with or I will drive him back to England myself."Russo replies firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And who assigned this?"

"Schoonover did, sir."

"I suppose I can't undermine that then. But if you're out of line even once or if you're preventing any of us from doing our jobs, you'll be removed and put on patrol for the rest of the week, reports only."

"Understood sir."

Russo and I follow our two superiors to a chopper which takes us to the only normal looking building on the whole base. We go inside to find a decked out hospital room. I look around me, trying to ignore the itching feeling that something's wrong about this that's sitting in the back of my mind.

"The tests we're running are only to confirm and extend our knowledge of what you went through. You'll see the results and the whole process so that you can refuse at any time."the doctor explains. 

"I don't know that I will refuse. I remember too much of what happened to just not want to know exactly what they did."

"That's understandable, Mr. Gold."

"What's first?"

The next week is endless hours of repeated tests all testing different things including a ton of workout training. We must've written a novel just about my heritage and abilities by the end of that week. 

I get a few days off before I start basic training and in turn so does Russo since he's to be by my side regardless of what's going on at least for now. 

Russo and I are just sitting in the barracks talking.

"So when you said 'superhuman abilities', you neglected to mention that you meant almost every one ever mentioned in any superhero ever."I say before taking a sip out of my water bottle.

"Well, in my defense I thought it'd only be a few of them. Maybe some super strength or something. Not so much, everything. I guess when that lunatic saw what you could take as a little kid, he wanted to do everything he could."

I laugh. "Wouldn't you?"

"No. I wouldn't wanna accidentally kill you."

"Awe, already attached, Billy?"I tease him.

"Something like that. I just don't wanna lose my job for hating you enough to do something like that."

"Yeah, because you're so sweet."

"I'm really not. I just happen to give a shit about you."

"Wow. I must be special."

"Oh shut up."

I take another sip of my drink. Schoonover walks in here and sits on the cot beside mine.

"I apologize for not having reached out since our first meeting. I got a bit overwhelmed with work. How'd those tests go?"he asks.

"One, your demeanor changed which means you know what they found."

"Usually that tone would be insubordination."

"Why am I special then?"

"Because firing you could end worse for us than it could for you. Continue though."

"The tests were fine. I'm used to that kind of intensity for things I don't have any control over. I would advise that you find someone more attuned to administering them though because it seems that your military operation lacks the proper equipment to deal with supernatural and superhuman abilities. I understand this is the same military that curated Captain America but it doesn't seem to be far enough."

"I see you know quite a lot then."

"Yes sir."

"Have anyone in mind that you would prefer to work with?"

"No sir. I'm not the type to request that kind of information. I just happened to notice that your doctors seemed out of their element when they saw what I could do."

"And what can you do?"

"What? Expecting a showcase?"

"Only so I know what I'm dealing with on some level."

"Russo you're gonna wanna back up."

Russo gets up from where he's laying on his cot and moves to one a few feet away. I get up from where I'm sitting and take my uniform jacket off. I use magic to create two matching longswords, blades so black they could be considered nonexistent, the handles slightly curved. 

"Simple magic."Schoonover says.

"I know. Might as well start slow though."

Russo walks over and takes the blades from me, putting them in one of the crates under his cot before sitting back down on the one he'd moved to before.

"Try something with more of a kick to it."Schoonover says.

"Yes sir."

I use a spell to make a suit instead. It's a spiderman suit with a black chestplate and a dark blue hood with black lining. It already appears on my body when I make it. I shoot a web onto one of the rafters and wing from it, repeating that from one end of the barracks to the other.

"So the superhuman part was right then."Schoonover says.

"Yes sir."Ireply, taking my mask off as I sit back down.

"The tests said you could create living things as well."

"With powers you mean?"

"Yes."

"I haven't tried it but I probably can. I'll need an idea though cause it doesn't just come right off the top of my head."

"Any animal. Mythical just to see if it works."

I use magic to create a baby Gryffin egg. The egg appears in the palms of my hands and when it does, it cracks open and an infant Gryffin sits on the inside of it.

"Is it living? Like could you call it or something?"Schoonover asks.

"If it is, my mom's gonna have to come down here and get it. Or Lupin will I suppose."

"That's fine. We have contracts with them as well."

"Understood."

I slide one finger gently along the Gryffin's beak, waking it up and causing it to snap at me. I curse softly and pull my hand away, gently setting the egg on the cot beside me.

"Yes, it's awake."I say."I'll send an owl for my mom."

"Can you create other weapons than just blades?"

"Yeah."

I use magic once again, making a silver pistol appear in my hand, a magazine full of bullets already loaded in it. I set that aside as well.

"Anything else or did you just need confirmation that the creation spell worked?"I ask.

"Nothing else. I'm sure I'll learn everything else when you begin training."

"Sounds taxing."

He laughs at that and leaves once more. I write a quick letter to my mom Minerva Mcgonnogal and have an owl send it. The Gryffin I spawned climbs out of its egg and sits in my lap. It's maybe an hour later when mom arrives. 

When mom gets here she sits beside me on the cot. 

"Why would you choose a gryffin? You know they're birds. They form bonds before they're even fully removed from their shell."she asks.

"Because it's the first creature that came to mind. I though about being home and well, it sort of just happened."

"I can't take it with me. You've created a bond by touching it. I understand you're under quite a load of stress at the moment but it's important that you don't forget what you've learned."

"So I have to raise it now?"

"Yes. When you leave the military, it can stay at Hogwarts. But until then you need to take care of it."

"Could you at least send supplies and explain all that to my commander? I mean, I don't fully know what I'm doing. I don't know what to do with companions or pets seeing as I've never had one before."

"I'll still make sure that you're successful in taking care of it. I'm still your parent and your teacher. But you'll also need to learn how to take care of things on your own."

"Yes ma'am."

She leaves to talk to my commander. I pet the Gryffin's head, making it make a vague purring sound at me. 

Billy Russo, Agent Orange, Sergeant Schoonover -The Punisher (2018)

Minerva Mcgonnogal - Harry Potter

[rockyp77mk3]

"Sergeant Alvin C York" by Frank Schoonover 1919.

[the-shining-river]

Frank’s Complicated Education

I had a mystery question related to the below statements and the fact that a Lieutenant is a commissioned officer that needs a bachelor’s degree.

Go ahead. Go ahead. I had to teach you how to hold a gun. Do you remember? Eighteen, and you'd never held a piece before. [x]

When Castle was just eighteen, he enlisted in the United States Marine Corps where he had eventually met and was then placed under the command of Major Ray Schoonover. [x]

It feels kinda weird—what would a Major on active duty be doing instructing newbie recruits at a boot camp? Aren’t there, like, drill sergeants or other special people for that?

And also, we all seem to agree that Frank is a lot smarter than people usually expect, but what exactly has gone into that Scout Sniper specialisation he’s so rightfully proud of?

So I, a non-American, fell into a research hole, and Frank’s academic / career path looks smth ridiculous like this.

.

STEP ONE - GETTING BACHELOR’S DEGREE AND APPARENTLY MEETING SCHOONOVER SOMEWHERE IN THE PROCESS

.

With a birthday in November [x], I’m assuming Frank finished highschool aged 17 [x]. After that, Frank may have enlisted straight away, because Schoonover remembers teaching an 18-year-old Frank to shoot, so that could be the 13-week recruit training program upon his initial enlisting. [1]. Btw, from there you graduate with these sort of dress uniforms (the red ‘blood stripes’, white belts):

However, a Lieutenant is a commissioned officer, and, in order to qualify for commission, Frank would still need a bachelor’s degree.

If Frank is enlisted already, he could obtain it a bit later through a MECEP program, but, in order to get on the path to commission faster, he could have gone to college + PLC course [2] right after the highschool, meaning he might have met Schoonover in the summer training course after his college freshman year (meaning Schoonover was an instructor at PLC?):

Or Frank could have gone to college + NROTC Marine Option [3] (meaning Schoonover was an instructor at NROTC or OCS?):

In addition to regular NROTC program requirements, NROTC (Marine Option) midshipmen must pass a 6-week OCS course known as "Bulldog" during summer between junior and senior year. "Bulldog" is modeled after the PLC Seniors Course.

In case of NROTC, I think it might have been the College Program route, as it doesn’t seem very likely that the trouble-maker Frank qualified for a scholarship lol [4]:

Also, with NROTC, you can apparently skip the officer school and, upon finishing college + the NROTC requirements, you get the 2nd Lt rank automatically. [5A][5B]

Theoretically, an Officer Candidates Course (OCC) would also work to get him into OCS, but that course is for college seniors and graduates, placing Frank’s first brush with Schoonover at ages 20-21. Although, it would offer Frank a different alternative to the 10-week Officer School later [also 4], letting Frank have his college summers free of PLC:

OCC is a 10-week commissioning program in Quantico, VA for college seniors and graduates interested in earning the title as a United States Marine Officer. Upon completion, newly commissioned Marine Officers will begin active duty at The Basic School (TBS) as Second Lieutenants.

.

.

STEP TWO - OFFICER CANDIDATES SCHOOL and LIEUTENANT RANK

With a college degree (aged 20-21), Frank finally qualifies for the OCS, which is based in Quantico and takes 10 weeks of full-time commitment [6]. If he went the NROTC or OCC route, this step can be skipped.

Considering the qualification, he must have pulled his shit together by then.

Officer Candidates must pass a series of tests before being admitted into the Officer Candidate School. An Officer Selection Officer (OSO), usually a Captain, meets with a prospective Officer Candidate. Upon completing a satisfactory interview, the OSO then makes the decision to move the prospective candidate onto the next step. The prospective candidate then must complete a short essay about why they want to be a Marine Officer, provide identification, pass a background check, provide five letters of recommendation, and complete a physical medical exam. [7]

Theoretically, Frank would qualify for the officer school already upon finishing PLC or NROTC or OCC during college, but college and officer school are not compatible in terms of time and effort required.

Either way, Frankie won’t become a scout sniper without that college degree:

Officer candidates who complete OCS (and have obtained their college degrees) are then commissioned as Second Lieutenants and sent to The Basic School (TBS) at Quantico for six months of further training with other newly commissioned Marine officers from all other commissioning programs. [7]

Now look at this beautiful man:

That’s a Second Lieutenant blue-white dress uniform, which is authorized for wearing in summer [8], with marksmanship annual qualification badges Rifle Expert (looks like it’s earned for the 2nd year in a row) and Pistol Expert [9], meaning he’s the bestest shot with these weapons (Marksman --> Sharpshooter --> Expert).

I can’t make out what’s pinned above the ribbons, but it’s something with wings, like this or this? The comics wiki says Frank Castle has received helicopter training, and can fly a plane too, but MCU version of the wiki doesn’t mention that.

.

.

STEP THREE - THE BASIC SCHOOL & SPECIALISATION

All newbie Marine Corps officers, fresh from OCS or NROTC, are further trained in The Basic School (which is also in Virginia).

After a Basic Officer Course (BOC) that lasts 28 weeks, Frank would have chosen his primary specialisation [10]. Because Scout Sniper military occupational specialty (MOS) falls under the Infantry category, after graduating BOC, he’d need to stay on that same Basic School campus and continue with an Infantry Officer Course (IOC) for another 15 weeks.

Also, Scout Sniper is a secondary MOS, which means that first Frank should have specialised in something else. Wikipedia in one instance says the prerequisite for Scout Sniper is becoming a Ground Intelligence Officer or some other kind of Infrantry MOS [11]. In another article [12], the prerequisite is either one of these primary MOS: 0311 Rifleman, 0321 Reconnaissance Marine, 0331 Machine Gunner, 0341 Mortarman, 0352 Antitank Missile Gunner, or 0369 Infantry Unit Leader.

I don’t understand how the rank requirements go together. How would a 2ndLt , after graduating from the Officer Candidates School, get a primary MOS that seems to be capped at a Sergeant rank or at Master Gunnery Sergeant? Unless PMOS can be assigned during earlier training? Or Frank took some time between highschool and college, or between college and OCS to get any of these primary specialties while in some lower-level marine boot camp? Or there is no upper rank limit? [gods I’m not gonna think about it, this is getting ridiculously long as is]

.

ANYWAY, he needed some on-field experience, an active contract, and a recommendation from his battalion with future plans to appoint him to a scout-sniper platoon, in order to get his ass sent to the Scout Sniper Course in Quantico. There are quotas and budget. See the list of requirements here.

The Scout Sniper Basic Course used to be 10 weeks before 2009 when Frank would have attended [13].

================================================

SINCE THEN, Frank Castle had earned the rank of 1st Lieutenant, was serving with US Marine Corps Force Recon, and 2 years before the events of DD s2 was awarded the Navy Cross [14].

The above sequence of training/education would explain how he’s wearing a 2nd Lt uniform at his wedding at... 21-22 years old (?), but doesn’t really explain this:

1) when would an 18yo Frank manage to get all the necessary hands-on field training with Schoonover? Because if he simply went to the boot camp and took his time moving through the enlisted and non-commissioned officer ranks without the college degree shortcut to 2nd Lt, then he can’t have been that young-looking in that wedding waltz flashback OR he can’t have worn that uniform OR he just remembers the whole thing wrong.

2) considering he DID need a bachelor’s degree to get that Lt rank, what did Frank study? Even if he went the route of a purely military themed college like this one, there’s still the choice of subjects.

3) Isn’t there some expectation of a certain speed of moving up the ranks? Why did Frank get only 1 levelup in ~14 years? He was reportedly excellent, trusted and respected in his job, his CO (officially) liked him well enough. Could be that, Navy Cross aside, the illegality and secrecy of the Cerberus project fucked up Frank’s military record even more than he realised, due to there not being sufficient amount and/or quality of performance info submitted for a promotion?

.

TBC in Part II, just for the hell of it!

[thisdayinwwi]

The Alaska Daily Empire Jun 6 1919

With a detachment of Company G, 328th Infantry. Eighty-second Division that arrived at Hoboken aboard the transport Ohioan, was Sergeant Alvin C. York, thirty one years old, of Pall Mall. Fentress county. Tenn. •He is a lanky Southerner, six feet tall, with a likable grin, red hair and a ruddy face that still has freckles, though much tanned and scarred with lines placed there by a hardy life in the open, and there was little about him that marked him from the 27,000 other troops who reached port the same day until one glanced at the left breast of his trench-worn uniform.

Pinned there was a bit of light blue ribbon, dotted with silver stars, and from it hung the green and gold medal of the highest decoration that America offers to her fighters—the Congressional Medal of Honor. The medal was awarded him late in April, after months of investigation by generals and other high ranking officers, for what has been termed the greatest Individual feat of the war. And beside It hung the French Croix de Guerre, with palm, pinned upon him by Generalissimo Foch himself, who upon bestowing it on April 24 last said:—“What you did was the greatest thing ever accomplished by any soldier of any of the armies in Europe."

This battle scene was painted in 1919 by artist Frank Schoonover. The scene depicts the bravery of Alvin C. York in 1918.

[ck90]

May or May Not...

This may or may not be a NaNoWriMo that may or may not involve an already 10k KastleAU that may or may not ever see the light of day again. But I’m thinking of my awesome witches and one in particular saying....doooooeeeeett. You know who you are, you enabler you. ;) Also, this turned out a bit longer than I intended but I kinda liked it.

--unedited rough rough draft begins now--

“That is no grade four cargo ship.” Lieutenant Frank Castle didn’t have to be a snot-nosed Naval rating to understand the schematics that the military computers spewed out. His jaw clenched. “It’s no cargo ship at all.”

“I’ll kiss, Frankie boy here, full-on slurpy tongue,” Lieutenant William ‘Bill’ - Billy to his friends - Russo pointed to the display, “if those bulges port and starboard, aren’t camouflaged missile tubes.”

Schoonover’s eyes narrowed, but his lips twitched up just a tick. “No. Best estimate is that the Sulaco is a modified Enterprise-class heavy cruiser.”

The tension racketed the room.  Enterprise-class meant Solarian League military hardware and weaponry. It also meant that the captain and most, if not all of a minimum of six-hundred crew, would be retired or forcibly separated from service, Solarian naval ratings. Not your run of the mill pirates. Not easy prey for the Royal Camerian Navy and it’s contingent of Marines. When the fight started, and it would, people were going to die and not just the pirates ferrying genetic slaves.

“My math is a bit rusty, Major, but at the current trajectories,” Sergeant Gunner Henderson scratched his ginger beard, “we ain’t gonna reach them before they hit that far side hyperlane.”

Frank squinted at the display and the real-time numbers flashing across the right side. Compared to Gunner’s ‘rusty’ math skills, Frank’s were, to put it kindly, seriously anorexic. It had taken the bulk of the Marine class and Bill’s very patient, mathematical genius naval cadet ‘girlfriend of the month’ to get Frank to pass astronavigation. The only reason he hadn’t ended up dead last in the class was because the cadet who had that dubious honor was just one level above amoeba.

-- to be continued?--

[thisisnotawonderland-blog1]

Enter Sandman - Heavy thoughts tonight // And they aren’t of Snow White (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: this took ages! sorry! anyway, it’s not very ‘billy x reader’ this chapter, and it’s not the last chapter, there are more to come! so excited for season 2!!!!!

Warnings: lots of violence and war, that’s like it, but there’s a lot of it 🤷‍♀️

I’m going to start trying to post every Monday, but I might post more (or less) frequently than that.

-

When Y/N was on her second tour in Syria, she realised how easy it was to loose track of time. While she was there, she never heard what day it was, only times. See, when you don’t hear the date for a few weeks or more, you’ll lose track of what day it is, what the date is; simple things. There was one time, when the post from their family got delayed, that Y/N’s old squad had thought it was July, until she got a selection of birthday cards. Her birthday was in August. Y/N found that it was all well and good to know the day and the date, and the anniversaries of everyone’s marriages and births, but it wasn’t instrumental to anyone’s life. She forgot her own birthday, but what did it matter if she still knew her age? A birthday is really just another day; the 1st of January just marked another 365 days, 52 weeks or twelve months; time is a concept. - “I forgot to call my mum for Christmas and New Year’s.” “What?” Billy glanced at his friend - he didn’t really understand the whole drama about being with family at the festive time of the year (this was understandable, of course.) “She told me to call her. I forgot - which is annoying because this time I can’t say I was busy because I wasn’t doing anything.” “You were unconscious at Christmas and and still recovering at New Year’s. You couldn’t’ve called her,” Billy reasoned, making Y/N laugh. “I can’t believe that I, sniper and fighter pilot, got shot in the stomach on Christmas Eve. I mean, I blame you,” she said, ending on a joking note. “I told you to stop shooting and get down, but did you? No, of course not,” Billy said, making her laugh. “I was on a roll! Did you see how many people I hit! Even you can’t deny it was pretty epic,” she said, rousingly her eyebrows mockingly at him. “Nah, that was pretty cool. You could even say it was as cool as when I was on my first tour and I-“ “Bill, as much as that’s a great story, I’ve only heard it five thousand times,” Frank cut him off, entering the dormitory where Billy and Y/N were seated, “Y/N, Rawlins wants ya.” At that, Y/N hopped up from where she was sitting, cross-legged, on Billy’s bed. She pulled her boots on, messed his hair up and left, turning round only to say to Bill, “tell me later, k?” As she jogged across the sand dunes towards the mess tent, golds, scarlets and magentas staining the sky above her as she did so, she thought about what Rawlins had said when he spoke to her last, just before the Christmas Eve Mission. When she got to the tent, Schoonover was vacant, probably with some of the soldiers. she knew why he wasn’t there, but she pushed the thought away. No one could know. “Sir?” she asked. “Ah yes, Sergeant Y/L/N, I need to you talk to you, it’s about Operation Hecate - there’s been a problem,” he said, and she ran forwards to where the maps were laid out on the table. “What kind of problem?” she asks, urgency laced through her voice, “Is it-“ “It will still go ahead. But next mission, you’re going to have to do it. As soon as possible, we can’t hold this off any longer. You know the plan.” “What will the mission be?” “A staged one. And a dangerous one too. It will be… difficult. You don’t have to worry; just make sure you remember to turn your lights off.” “Of course, Sir. May I go?” she points in the general direction of the cafeteria tent. “Yes, eat, build your strength for tomorrow.” - “What was that about?” Frank asked as Y/N sat down on the bench with her food - canned army rations - and began to stuff her mouth. “Upcoming mission - just checking the F35’s in good condition for tomorrow,” she looked up from the food, and saw them all staring at her. “What?” she asked, looking at the three men, and they continued to stare as she shovelled another mouthful of food down her throat, “What?” “Uh, nothing,” Curtis said, eyeing her plate as another overly filled fork full was stuffed down her throat, “nothing.” “What, never seen a girl eat?” She said, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of their faces. “Not like that, I haven’t,” Frank chuckled, and she rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you guys are sexist. Just a lil’ bit, but sexist none the less. It’s food. I’m hungry. Stop making faces.” The men then pretended as if nothing had happened, Billy swiftly changing their conversation towards the elephant in the room - “So, mission tomorrow? “Yeah, it’s… I don’t know. Seemed like a big deal,” Y/N said, shrugging and dropping her cutlery unceremoniously onto her now-empty plate. It is a big deal. She know it is because it impacts her more than it impacts anyone else she knows - and doesn’t know, for that matter. - “Hey, Bill!” He turns to face the pilot behind him. “Yes, love?” He flirts, making her laugh; a look of terror passes her faces, he only just sees it, “are you okay?” “I need to talk to you -” She sounds urgent as she grabs his hand and pulls him away from the stacks of equipment and fellow Marines - “in private.” “What’s going on?” He asks, suddenly suspicious - and scared - of her behaviour. “Look, I need you to know something. Separately from that, tell Frank and Curtis that I loved knowing them-“ “What the hell is going on?” “It’s nothing to worry about. Bill, listen to me, and you can’t tell anyone else about any of this, okay?” “Y/N, I…” “Okay?” “Yes, fine.” “Something big is going to go down tonight. And I need you to know that I would never hurt you intentionally. This past year has been the best of my life. Especially since I got to spend it with you. Now, I really need to go - my charriot awaits. I… I lo - bye Bill!” She runs off, living him in a state of curious stupor - what the hell was going on? - There are two trucks; both khaki, both with a USMC symbol next to a ‘Stark Industries’ symbol on the right side; one had six soldiers (Frank, his three Marines and two medics) and the other had five soldiers (Billy, his three Marines  and Curtis.) No one dared to talk. The dirt trucks that they rode down were uneven, but no one noticed - they were checking equipment and hoping that the mission they’re on goes better that their last one. Overhead, the distant hum of a plane’s engine reminded that their friend will provide more than enough support. Even that did little to calm their nerves. Billy found himself praying - odd, since he’s an atheist - that Y/N would be there when they get back to camp; after her behaviour earlier, he felt as though she’s on a suicide mission. The squad pulled into a ditch, and the soldiers climbed out. They could feel it in the air - this was a battle they wouldn’t forget. - Black. Red. Orange, yellow, blue, pink, green. There was a rainbow of colours on the battlefield. Fiery colours of explosions; the blue hues of the twilight; the greens of the uniform. There are flashes of the brightest whites, and moments of suffocating black; there were moments when it feels as though the very earth itself is on fire. Occasionally, shrapnel fell from the sky like a monsoon - fatal to those in it’s path - when their British friend was successful; that didn’t stop the look of pure horror the Marines made when there was an aerial explosion - waiting for the confirmation that their plane was still flying. It felt as though it had been hours. They needed to turn around. They needed to retreat. There weren’t enough medics and there was so much dust in the air that it was impossible for the soldiers to see more then ten feet infront of their fingertips. It seemed as though enemy soldiers jumped out of thin air. There was an explosion in the distance. They could tell because their world lit up momentarily. Billy pulled his radio to his ear, waiting to hear the confirmation from Y/N that the last of the enemy planes was down and they can go home. - There was a crowd. There’s always a crowd. Frank was off doing who knows what (probably having a go at Rawlins) and Curtis was with patients. Billy was frantic, he checked the face of every soldier. “There’s no point in searching.” He turned to face the voice - Schoonover - in confusion. “What do you mean?” He asked, panic filling his body like mercury. “She went down at the end - so did the enemy plane. Lost one of the wings and didn’t have time to eject. I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. Billy screamed. He’d never lost his cool before - not like this - but he surged forwards, and suddenly there were three people stopping him from killing Schoonover. - “Hi, Flight Sergeant Y/L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Director Nick Fury, and this is Maria Hill.”

[rockyp77mk3]

"Sergeant Alvin C. York", by Frank Schoonover,  " 82nd Division  Attack made from Hill 223- N. of Chatel Cheke Argonne Forest near Corney. Ardennes. France Oct 8th 1918"

[thisisnotawonderland-blog1]

Enter Sandman - Prologue

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: ALL RIGHT PPL I’M WRITING AGAIN! this is gonna be a series for Billy Russo (bc why not) also, breaks don't seem to be being recognised by mobile??? is that just me???

Warnings: at some point there will be spoilers for The Punisher, blood and gore (in future chapters)

From: Warrant Officer O’Bryan

To: Y/N Y/L/N

Subject: Kandahar Tour

Dear Flight Sergeant Y/L/N,

As you have been made aware, a Flight Sergeant is required in Kandahar to accompany a group of eleven Special Ops US Marines of the Force Recon division to provide aerial support on their highly confidential missions and tours.

You are one of our most talented pilots, therefore we are writing to inform you that you will be joining the group for their first tour, after a three week break. 

The USMC have slightly different tour dates so your break will have to be cut short if you are going to be available. We will provide flights to JFK airport, and then a car will pick you up to take you to their training grounds. You will then be sent out to their base in Kandahar, 48 hours after their arrival.

We thank you for your years of service, and hope that you are successful in your missions with the Marines.

Yours Truly,

Warrant Officer O’Bryan

I’d read the e-mail countless times. Pilots being shipped out to work tours with other countries wasn’t unheard of but it was rare that we were sent off to help with highly confidential tours, specially when we had our own squads. 

Plus, I knew there would be no other women. That was unheard of, due to multiple reasons: lots drop out due to hostile work environment; most women couldn’t make the physical requirements; others were just turned away due to the immense levels of sexism in the US military (the UK wasn’t really any better.)

One woman, eleven men. One British, eleven Americans. One pilot, eleven marines.

What could possibly go wrong?

-

Apparently Upstate New York was extremely hot in mid-summer, especially in these khaki cargo pants a long-sleeved raglan t-shirt that had the RAF symbol embroidered on the left. I was from Newcastle - I was used to the cold, and heat was definitely not something I enjoyed (I discovered this in Syria, during my first tour) and however long I spent sweating my arse off, I never got used to it. I was glad I was only passing through, though I knew that Afghanistan would be worse. 

At least I tan, instead of burning.

I sit down in my plane seat, and look around. I am the only woman on this plane, and also the only British person. Everyone else is USMC - though I am sitting next to a navy aviator (all I can think of is ‘TopGun’).

17 hours later, I climb into a large jeep, and drop my pack at my feet. A man sits down opposite me - he has a long sort of face, dark eyes and grey hair. 

“Major Schoonover.” He introduced himself, “I understand that I am working with you on Operation Cerberus. Welcome to the squad.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I replied, and put my sunglasses on, so that I can look out of the jeep with out being blinded by the unfiltered sun.

After twenty minutes of waiting, I see a large set of tents that were strategically place just out of sight of the city. I grabbed my pack and slung it over my shoulders. We got down form the jeep, and Schoonover sent me to one of the small tents, where a gruff looking guy sent me to the largest tent. I was immediately met with the smell of twenty sweaty men - which I was expecting - and I put my pack down at the foot of an empty cot. Then, as I was instructed to, I head to the Mess Tent. I tightened my ponytail, before pulling the flap open and stepping inside.