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spellucci · 9 months

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Hey MOOSE!

Sunday, August 6, 2023

We started the day with a walk along the Cheticamp River whence Riverside Retreat Campground gets its name. The birds and mosquitoes keep us company as we strolled along the banks of this lazy tannin-stained waterway.

After breakfast, Jeanne drove Margaret and Tim to the trailhead for the Skyline Trail. When Tim and Jeanne were last here, we did an out-and-back. This time, Margaret and Tim decided.to do the whole six-mile loop. This is the one trail in the park that prohibits dogs so we leave Jeanne to read and Dora to guard Jeanne.

The trail is flat and easy. We stroll along at a good pace listening for birds and deciding how to identify trees. We come across an enclosure with high fences. The sign reads, "If you see a moose in thisu area, call this number." Further on there is a lookout point and signage. The moose have been eating all the saplings of the boreal forest and turning the area to a grassland/savannah. How could this happen we wondered and read on. "Eastern moose are native to Cape Breton, but became rare by 1900 due to excessive hunting and habitat destruction, and were likely wiped out by the 1930s. Parks Canada decided to re-introduce moose to Cape Breton Highlands National Park, and 18 western moose from Elk Island National Park, Alberta, were released in Cape Breton Highlands National Park during 1947 and 1948." However, due to the lack of wolves, the moose population has grown to 4 times what it should be. So much for those baby spruce, tamarac, pine, balsam and other trees. The park has begun tree reintroduction work and showed 3 ways the planting is being done. The hope is to have the trees get a head start in the enclosures and eventually the moose will be let back in. No mention of reintroducing wolves.

On we go down the path to the boardwalk. This is a wide wooden stepped path that descends the hillside toward the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Wide, spectacular views. Tourists gazing, taking selfies, looking for whales, oohing and aahing. It's simply gorgeous.

Back on the path we find fewer hikers since this is the longer leg of the loop. 20 minutes along two women stop to tell us that there are 2 moose up ahead! Fingers crossed they are still there when we arrive. We walk gingerly forward not wanting to scare them away. No fear - they are calmly munching and munching and munching near the path. A few other hikers are stopped as well - everyone hushed, taking pics, smiling, gesturing. The moose are all nose and mouth, glancing at us briefly and then returning to the task at hand - eating 40-60 pounds of browse a day! We tear ourselves away and soon hear a hermit thrush. Margaret has now ascended into the 7th heaven.

When Tim and Margaret return, Dora greets the hikers with joy and wiggles. Jeanne has had a peaceful time, interrupted only by losing her cellphone and having it be returned to the rangers who give it to her. Phew!

We head into town, Cheticamp, for restocking the larder, then on to have dinner on Cheticamp Island. Margaret again realizes you don't have to plan ahead for your picnic, since you always have all your food, AND your kitchen with you when traveling in an RV. Down a long dirt road we arrive at the lighthouse and park overlooking the ocean. Bucolic with warm breezes, lapping waves, bounding puppy and cows grazing in the distance.

All of a sudden, Dora starts barking. Apparently the small herd has taken an interest in little dogs and Dora is ready to take them all on. Running right at them, barking, and jumping she's a force to recon with. And the cows too, seem to be ready for the duel as they keep marching forward. Tim and Jeanne decide Dora is too small for a bovine battle and bring her back to the RV. But the cows aren't done yet; they keep coming in for a closer look and need to be shooed away. Peace returns and we eat dinner overlooking the gulf and admiring the cliffs and mountains in the distance.

As we drive back towards camp we see a shimmering spot on the horizon just below the cloud bank. What could be doing that? It looks like a UFO just settling on the ocean. Or is it about to take off? The horizon is glowing, glinting and glittering, shimmering and shining, glistening and gleaming. A spectacular end to a terrific day!

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whumpinggrounds · 3 years

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All Caught Up

woohoo here for day 1 of @whumptober2021 with some superhero/sidekick content :) as i’m sure you’ll figure out, this is for the barbed wire part of the prompt

tagging @whumpy-writings, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed :)

CW: barbed wire, (duh), blood, field medicine, cuts, pain, crying, sidekick whump, environmental whump (kinda??)

The mission is going well, as far as August can tell. He’s been relegated to recon, which is a nice way of saying that he’s spending the night running circles around the action. Beck, ever the diplomatic leader, makes sure to talk up the importance of it, emphasize how August is keeping them safe by watching everyone’s back. August, young and green though he might be, is smart enough to know that it’s a little less dramatic than all that. At least he’s contributing, August tells himself. Mercer, his fellow trainee, is back at the compound with the medic girl, Valerie. Perhaps it’s only because August’s power is more useful, but he’d like to pretend it’s a little deeper than that.

By his fifteenth lap around their perimeter, August has to call his wishful thinking what it is. He’s not any more capable than Mercer, and certainly he’s less useful than Valerie. He’s just convenient for the current mission, which, by the way, he doesn’t even get to know about. After just a few minutes of the task, he has to admit what he’s really doing, which is running pointless circles around a warehouse in the dark, keeping his eyes open for anyone suspicious.

“What kind of suspicious person should I be looking for?” August had asked, overloaded on adrenaline as Beck and Donovan briefed him on the mission. Beck had nodded at the question, but Donovan had looked nothing short of disgusted.

“We’ll be at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city in the middle of the night. Anyone shows up, they’re suspicious. Is that simple enough for you?”

After weeks of training with him, August was well used to Donovan’s digs, but hearing it in front of Beck made him flush like it was the first time. He ducked his head, cringing from the friendly pat Beck tried to land on his shoulder.

“Don’s just stressed,” Beck had explained with an apologetic smile. August had forced a smile. If that was true, Donovan’s spent the past several weeks stressed, every minute of every day.

The memory of the conversation cheers August, just a little. It reminds him that he’s out here, jogging easy laps around the warehouse, instead of inside, within range of Donovan’s caustic comments. At a steady, sustainable lope, August cuts through the clear, slightly cool night air like a knife. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, including a mask pulled down over his face that hides his spiky, strawberry blonde hair. When he first dressed out like this, August had been tempted to ask what would happen if someone thought he looked suspicious, skipping around dressed completely in black. Before he got the words out, though, he imagined Donovan’s withering response, and Beck’s awkward pity. August decided it was better just to keep his mouth shut. Now he focuses on watching the world around him, scanning alleyways and empty roads in widening circles. It’s easy, meditative, the most familiar motion August knows.

Around him, the night is thick and silent. His footsteps echo down quiet streets, only the sound of buzzing streetlights and distant sirens there to keep him company. Of all the sketchy parts of the city, August wouldn’t have picked the warehouse district for a criminal hotspot – most of these places are legitimate shipping contract, complete with a rent-a-cops posted outside their chain link fencing. This building is on the edge, though. August examines it on his closer loops, trying to glean from the outside what must be going on within. He has a lot to learn, and it’ll take him twice as long if Donovan and Beck won’t explain things to him outright.

They’ve been in the area almost an hour when a new noise makes August’s ears prick up. Something rattles in one of the side streets, a way that’s been empty the last three times August checked it. Tightening his circle, August trots toward the sound, not sure whether he should hope for a stray dog, or something a little more exciting.

As he draws closer, August tries to note the ways the alleyway might’ve changed, but he just hasn’t been paying enough attention in all this quiet. There’s a bottle, gleaming empty, in the center of the alley, which may not have been there before. Slowing to a walk, August scans both sides of the way carefully, making sure to check the window sconces above him. He gets to the street on the other side, ready to give up, when he sees him. Across the way, there’s a man watching him – dark clothes, shifty eyes. Their eyes lock, and August feels his heart rate pick up.

Before he can say anything or start to move, the other man is turning and running. Despite himself, a smile spreads across August’s face. Perfect.

Springing into action, August throws himself into the chase. After all the casual jogging, it feels so good to run – muscles firing at top speed, peak efficiency. The world blurs past his face as August’s legs pump beneath him, fine and strong. Fully confident in his abilities, August charges forward, fighting the urge to grin.

Up ahead, the stranger doesn’t look back. Presumably, he can hear August’s footsteps, catching up to him in leaps and bounds. The guy darts into a nearby building, dodging through dilapidated rooms, no doubt as a last-ditch attempt at evasion. Smirking, August tears after him.

The only thing that keeps the man out of August’s reach are the doorways and minor obstacles that block August’s path. He has to slow down to dodge, and the stranger pulls ahead again, fleeing out the back door a few precious yards before August. Growling, August hurls himself forward again, springing off the bottom steps of the house. He takes two massive strides and then –

And then August is on the ground, for seemingly no reason. Heart pumping hard, adrenaline surging through his veins, August tries to bounce back to his feet without even checking what might be wrong. That’s when the pain hits.

It’s stinging, at first, in his legs, and then a strange, metallic rattling sound. August lies still, brain still trying to catch up to what exactly is going on. Slowly, tentatively, he tries to separate one leg from the other, and then sucks in a breath as the tearing pain sharpens. Peering down, he whimpers as the source of his agony is revealed.

A bunch of old, rusty strands of barbed wire are wrapped around his legs. He must’ve run into them, almost full speed. If they were stapled to something before, his momentum must’ve carried him straight through, but it’s just as likely that the coils were just sitting there. Either way, the wire is now wrapped tight around his legs, digging in with every little motion he tries to use to escape.

Okay. Okay. August tries to keep his breathing level, but it’s hard. It’s getting shaky. Okay, he tells himself, just, just sit up-

But sitting up moves the wires, makes them tear at his skin in new and agonizing ways. Hissing through his teeth, August gives up for a second, lies panting on the ground like a landed fish. The weight on his legs makes the barbs dig in all the deeper. Whining, August pushes himself up on his elbows and, fighting pain, reaches back to try to pull the damn thing off. Every single motion makes the barbs dig deeper, rip and tear at August’s skin like they have teeth and independent, vicious will.

Despite his gritted teeth, his clenched fists, his desperate attempts to control himself, tears leak from August’s eyes. Angrily he swipes them away, panting through the waves of stinging pain, trying to think. He needs to…he needs to…he needs to get upright, so he can untangle himself.

The thought of standing, of all the maneuvering he’ll need to do, puts a sob in August’s throat. He just wants it to stop hurting. Adrenaline is draining from his system, leaving him with helpless, useless pain. August wants someone to come help him – but even if Donovan and Beck are out looking for him, he has no way of knowing when they’ll find him. Besides, he’s a full-on adult. He’s supposed to be a superhero. He’s supposed to help on this mission, not hinder. August needs to fix this himself.

Drawing in a long, unsteady breath, August steels himself, eyes closed. He can’t fix anything from his current position, facing the ground and unable to see just how bad the knotting is. Trying to stand is going to dig the barbs even deeper into his thighs and calves. Flipping over on his back will tangle him further in the loose strands of wire. There’s no good option, but he can’t just lie here on his face and let the barbs bury themselves in his skin, hoping someone finds him soon.

Gritting his teeth, August makes his move fast, giving himself no time to chicken out. Throwing his body to the side, he flips himself onto his back, dragging the strands of wire with him.

The pain is blinding. Either the wire is still attached to something, or its own weight resisted August’s move – whatever it is, the wire wrapped around his legs drags hard against August’s flesh. Caught off guard, August screams, a harsh, ragged sound that echoes loud into the night. He screams just once, and then bites down savagely on his cheek, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle his sobs. Below the waist, his pants grow wet with blood.

Fuck. Fuck. It hurts so bad his body shakes with his tears. It hurts. Inside his head, August is wailing, but on the outside, all he can do is lie on the ground shaking, pressing his fist so hard against his teeth that his knuckles split and bleed.

Fuck. Fuck. Just breathe. He has to breathe. He has to breathe, and then he has to get it together, and then he has to fix this.

After a few minutes of regaining his composure, August sits up gingerly. In the dim glow of flickering streetlights, he looks at the mess wound tight around his legs. Just seeing it makes his stomach drop. He has no tools with him, nothing that could be used to cut spiky steel wire. August will have to sit here and peel each piece away from his skin by hand, even as tugging at one strand pulls another strand tighter.

It's going to be agony. But August doesn’t have another choice. Already, his pants are damp, and it won’t be long before a puddle starts to form. He can’t just sit here and weep until his mentors come to save him.

With one shaking finger, August tries to trace the wire, to figure out where and how to start. Eventually, he abandons that idea – he’s held by at least two, maybe three separate pieces of wire, and they’re all twisted together, a chaotic tangle that engulfs his legs in too many different places. Locking his jaw together and vowing that he won’t scream, August sets out to free himself.

It feels like it takes forever. A few times, August wishes dizzily to pass out from blood loss, or pain, but though the barbs cut deep, he’s not losing a dangerous amount of blood. The pain, rather than knocking him out, seems determined to keep him inescapably, unbearably present, aware of every little agony that razor wire can cause. Every shift, every tug, every careful little motion sends searing pain reverberating through his body.

Driven to distraction by the pain, by gritting his teeth and reducing his screams to grunts, August casts around him, finally landing on an old cardboard box collapsing in on itself nearby. With greedy fingers he hauls it to himself, folds it into a packet as thick as a wallet, and stuffs it in his mouth. Cringing from the taste of earth and mold and damp, August draws in a difficult breath around the mouthful and then attempts a particularly hard yank.

Head falling back, August yowls into his makeshift gag, biting down so hard he chokes on his trapped tongue. Coughing, crying, keening into the cardboard like a wounded animal, August works an especially tight strand away from his calves, not letting himself stop, no matter how painful or loud the going is.

When the loop is finally loose, August lets his teeth creak apart. His jaw aches from the clenching, and his teeth have worn deep, blurred impressions in the old cardboard. His hands are trembling, stained with blood from his legs and from where he’s cut his palms heaving at the wire entrapping him. Swiping a bloody hand across his mouth, August tries to get his breath back, all the while moaning, letting out little repetitive whimpering cries, like an animal caught in a trap and begging for aid. Distantly, he’s surprised at himself – he’s never heard these little pleading whines before and wouldn’t have thought it was something he would do. He’d always thought of himself as a yeller, before, someone who outright bellowed their pain. Tonight, he’s timid and pathetic as a child.

By the time Beck and Donovan find him, August is working on the last round of wire, surrounded by the bloody remnants of his prior successes. He’s too exhausted and pain-sick to focus on anything but freeing himself, so he isn’t alerted to the presence of the other supers until he hears Beck’s murmur. “Oh, fuck.” The leader sounds horrified, sick. “Oh, fuck, August, what happened?”

Too weary to have dignity, August just opens his mouth and lets the cardboard fall out, hands dropping to his sides and away from the barbed wire still stuck in his legs. “Saw som’n watchin’ the warehouse.” It’s been so long since he tried to talk that August isn’t sure why he’s slurring – maybe exhaustion, maybe the pain. Maybe because he’s been biting down so hard on cardboard his jaw feels like it won’t work right ever again. “Trieda chase ‘em. Didn’ see…didn’ see the wire.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Don’ know. Feels like…a long time.”

August looks up at Beck with total, hopeless, bottomless despair. Swallowing hard, Beck drops to his knees beside August, hand slipping down to his toolbelt. In seconds, he has a pair of wire cutters out and ready, and August feels hysterical laughter well within him at the thought of how easy this all would’ve been if only Beck had been around.

From another street floats a familiar, four note whistle. Beck replies in kind through his teeth as he brings the clippers to rest against the wire. August grits his teeth, steeling himself for the snap, the sudden retraction of the coils. Hesitating, Beck peers at him. “This…this could hurt.”

“’ve peeled…plen’y of it off m’self,” August grits out. “Jus’…hurry.” He drags in a shaky breath and wills himself to be brave. “…please.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, August remembers the cardboard too late. Without it, he lets an agonized grunt escape his lips as the wire cutters sever the last loop. Even the minute relaxation of his newly released legs is enough to jerk cruelly on the barbs embedded in his thighs. Fresh tears spring to his eyes beneath his mask, and August wonders wretchedly if Beck can see them.

If Beck does see his youngest trainee crying, he’s good enough not to say anything about it. When August peeks through slitted eyes, he sees his leader bent over the wire, focusing hard, drawing each barb out carefully and trying not to jostle as he does.

It hurts only a little less than August’s work on himself, but it’s over blessedly quick. When Beck finally sits back on his heels, August is left panting and bloody, but finally free. For a long moment he just sits there, leaning back on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. Opening his eyes, he discovers that sometime in the last few minutes, Donovan arrived, and is now staring at him, green eyes unreadable under his mask.

“August was trying to chase down a possible spy and ran into some razor wire.” Beck’s voice is low, distracted. “Maybe night vision goggles next time? Or-”

“Or the trainee learns not to run into shit like fences, walls, and goddamned barbed wire.”

“Don-”

“Can’t teach common fucking sense, Beck.” Donovan snorts. “Or maybe you can, but you shouldn’t waste your time.”

Letting his head drop, August bites his lip hard to avoid dissolving into tears. He’s tried so hard to be brave. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a wavery, exhausted whisper. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a long silence from his two mentors. “Come on, Donovan.” Beck sounds tired. “He’s lost a fair amount of blood.”

Donovan just grunts, and crosses the courtyard, and scoops August up in an effortless bridal carry. He isn’t especially gentle, but he isn’t especially rough either, and he carries August, bloody and teary and exhausted, all the way home.

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alderaani · 3 years

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Embers

summary: After Umbara, Boil learns how to endure, and how to reclaim pieces of his brothers marching on | AO3 | series

warnings: canonical character death, grief, animal injury + mentions of animal death (completely not explicit, on the level of canon-typical violence).

a/n: finally another part of my 100 clone prompts - the rest of the series is linked above! i know there’s not much in canon to support Waxer being an animal lover, but i wanted to give Gree a friend to nerd out with and it’s cute. also gotta pay homage to @nibeul’s wonderful art here - while I wasn’t consciously inspired by it, it hits on v similar themes and is just beautiful like...that image of waxer holding up numa lives in my head rent free.

Insects swirled in a halo around his helmet. They swarmed around the seams of his blacks, too, attracted to the small beads of sweat there, to the tiny strips of flesh he couldn’t quite cover. The rising bites itched, rubbing where the edge of his vambraces met fabric, and the buzzing was enough to drive a man mad. Boil sighed, brushing them off half-heartedly and watching them billow angrily away. They’d be back. They always were.

In the reprieve, he fumbled at his belt for the viewfinders hooked there and brought them to his visor. As he spun the dial to within half a klik so that he could search the undergrowth, his thumb settled in the comforting groove where Waxer had dropped them and chipped the plastoid. He worried at it with his nail while he scanned, frowning.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

Had been in his head for weeks now, verging on a month, and he was still waiting to feel something other than crippling emptiness. There weren’t any dreams any more, none except for the oldest one they all pretended not to have; levelling a blaster against Kenobi’s head and pulling the trigger. Even that didn’t feel like the nightmare it used to.

Eventually he lowered the viewfinder, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the stifled sound of his own breath in the dense air. A faint, humid breeze stirred the leaves, sending a cloud of thick yellow pollen up towards the canopy. Boil blinked to bring up the filter diagnostic on his HUD, keeping his belly low to the ground to avoid the stuff as it drifted lazily overhead.

“Kid, you doin’ alright out there?”

He listened to the static hum of the comm line for a few moments, biting back the panic that crawled up the back of his throat when it dragged on just a beat too long.

“Apart from gettin’ gnawed on by the bugs? Just grand, Sir.”

Potshot sounded a little winded, but that was probably just the heat. Blacks self-regulated temperature, but only to the extent that they made sure you sweated evenly. It never used to be quite so bad; that had been the one thing Phase 1 armour had going for it, for all it was bulkier and less adaptable to varied terrain. He supposed the Republic had had to cut costs somewhere. Waxer would’ve been whining by now that his ass was so hot they could light a flare off it. Potshot was young enough that he’d never known any different.

“Good, you see anything?” Boil grunted, pinging his location anyway. There was no real reason for it; Potshot might’ve still been green but he wasn’t stupid, and he’d done well to keep up so far. Boil could stand being self aware enough to acknowledge that he hadn’t been the most welcoming, or the most patient with the new partner he’d never wanted. He wouldn’t have had any right to be overbearing now, but it was for his own comfort, however small and bittersweet.

“Nothin’ at all. That seem odd to you too?” Potshot said, as the surveillance holos he’d taken popped up. Boil flipped through them, earmarking a couple to show him how to improve the angle later. The important shit was all there - enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. No birds, no creatures, no fresh droppings.

Just the bugs, and the trees, and them.

“Yeah, it’s odd alright. Think we’ve found what the general’s looking for.”

Boil felt pressure around his right boot and turned, vibroblade in hand, to stab into the fleshy vine knotting round it. It writhed and retreated, leaving behind pitted, smoking trails where acid had started eating into the plastoid. He registered the damage with a dull sort of annoyance. It was something else to take care of later, a way to look busy and shape the silence. It would fend off the others and their offers of company, made out of pity he couldn’t bear to look at.

“Really? What’re you seein’, boss?” Potshot asked.

Boil glanced upwards to track the position of the sun; high, almost directly overhead. At the peak of the day this place should have been teeming. Instead the only tracks he’d found had been baked solid, and this wasn’t the shocked quiet that followed a stampede. It was stagnant, aging.

“This forest is in the centre of an old super-volcanic crater, right?” he asked, not waiting for a response. It had been in the mission dossier, alongside profiles of the flesh eating plants, the deadly pollen and the venomous creatures, all of it fenced into the sloped, unforgiving bowl of the terrain. It was the kind of forest that stuck in the mind. “And we know that something has driven the wildlife away.”

Potshot hummed, the comm muffling for a second as he shifted. It took a moment of bitter disappointment coiling in Boil’s belly for him to realise that he’d been waiting for a sharp quip that wasn’t coming. He swallowed thickly, wondering how it was possible to feel so wrongfooted while lying down. If he’d ever find his balance again. If he ever wanted to feel whole now that such a fundamental piece was missing.

Potshot groaned suddenly. “Kriff it, the factories we’re looking for are underground, aren’t they?”

Boil forced a chuckle, choking past the self hatred clawing up through his lungs. The kid deserved better, deserved a superior who didn’t constantly treat him like a ghost.

“That’s it, kid. Just like the simulations, eh?”

Potshot laughed, the easy sound making Boil’s throat seize in longing so strong his teeth ached. Waxer would’ve loved him, and that made it all the worse.

“Hardly. What do we do next?”

“Alright,” Boil said, lifting the viewfinder for one last look at where he could see slight fog rising through the trees. “You get your ass back to forward command and debrief the General, I’m heading in for a closer look.”

“ What? But - Sir! We’re supposed to be working as a team. I can’t leave you -”

“Sometimes working as a team means you do your duty and trust the others to do theirs.” He cut in, keeping his voice steady by force of will. Sometimes, it meant carrying on alone. Boil clipped the viewfinder back into place and prepared to move, even as Potshot continued protesting. Boil didn’t answer for long enough that silence fell on the line.

“...am I not performing to the standard expected, Sir?”

Potshot’s voice was soft, all vulnerable underbelly. Still so shiny, and Boil remembered feeling like that, like there was still a scorecard constantly on his forehead.

“No - kid -” Boil sighed, dropping his head forward. He’d never learned how to be gentle - it hadn’t ever come naturally, and there had been no reason to lose his sharp edges when Waxer had always been there to foil them for him. He felt sharper now than ever, full of shards that didn’t sit right, and fished among the pieces for something his brother might have said. “I trust you to have my back. You’re doing everything right. But...sometimes we’ve gotta think of the mission. We need more proof before we can move in, but the two of us get caught, command loses what we already know.”

“Can’t we just send a comm?” Potshot asked, his voice still tight and hurt sounding and he was fucking this up, shouldn’t have been trusted to try to fix himself without breaking everyone else wide open in the process.

“Don’t trust it not to get intercepted,” Boil said, which was only half a lie, and would have made Cody scoff at the back to front over-caution. “And it don’t all fit in a comm. They’ll need everything you can remember to plan the advance.”

Potshot sighed, but when he spoke again his voice was looser. “...Yes, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Boil said, feeling his own chest lighten. “If you don’t hear from me by 1100 then raise me on the priority channel.”

He listened until Potshot had stated a reluctant affirmative and clicked off the line, then bellied out of the undergrowth and headed further in, to the epicentre of the unnatural quiet. He liked the way his mind went silent on recon, how everything else fell away. It wasn’t quite the same, tilted just a little off axis, but similar enough to when it had been Waxer at his six that if he didn’t think about it, he could almost trick himself into believing nothing had changed.

Plus, the space was good, just for a few minutes, where he didn't have to pretend for anyone.

It was a quiet journey, for the most part, punctuated only by the steps he couldn’t quite muffle. His thoughts were broken some time later when he suddenly heard it; the distant mechanical boom of something deep underground. He quickened his pace, following the vibrations until the earth under his feet grew hot, the air shimmering unnaturally in front of him. It had been like this at Point Rain, when the sand baked and glinted, glass-like, under the blaze of the overhead sun. If he hadn’t known the super-volcano was very thoroughly extinct, he could have kidded himself that it was just the geothermal energy of magma moving close to the surface. A clever disguise. But not clever enough.

The ground sloped ever downwards the further into the bowl he got. He watched where he placed his feet as it grew rockier, stones and small craters acting like pitfall traps concealed by the moss. Boil pinged his scanner every minute, searching for Seppie probes as the terrain tapered, falling away into a green-rimmed yawning abyss. Set into the centre of it was a huge grate, the source of the searing air. Here were the factories they’d been looking for, exactly where he’d suspected. It was a muted sort of satisfaction.

He crouched at the edge of the drop, taking holos and transmitting them directly to the Commander’s HUD. Then he checked his chrono and sent an unapologetic follow up that he’d be late to rendezvous, seeing that 1100 was about to come and go. Then he minimised the comms on his HUD to flash for priority only; he’d get bollocked for being late sooner or later, but he figured it would be novel to have it fully in person.

Finally he turned, ready to start the rapid scale back towards the 212th's forward camp, when he registered a low, keening whine.

His blaster was in his hands within a moment, trained at the knee-high leaves. The sound came again, higher this time, followed by laboured panting.

He gently brushed aside some of the foliage with his blaster barrel. Dark eyes stared at him from between the leaves. They both froze. It was some sort of animal, obviously; a mammal, probably a predator. It was small too, with paws too large for its scrawny body and a dark, downy fur that rippled with every laboured breath.

Sharp teeth. A narrow muzzle. A long, whip-like tail.

A vornskr, Boil thought, and hated how readily the identification came, how readily he tensed in anticipation of the inevitable Boil can you see - do you know how rare -

He shook the memories away, of Waxer leaning precariously over the top bunk to wave some manual Commander Gree had sent him in his face, bleating about some animal or species that Boil couldn’t pronounce. In the present the vornskr pup cowered away from him, pushing backwards on thin, spindly legs. Deceptively powerful though, he’d bet.

The creature let out another whine and stumbled, an odd abortive movement. Boil pressed more of the leaves away to get a better look and swore when he saw the brutal metal trap closed around one of its small hind legs, paring down to bone. His blaster was up and trained on the thing before he thought much about it. Better to shoot it, put it out of its misery, than prolong its suffering. It was what they did as part of the cleanup sometimes; wildlife was usually pretty good at getting out of the active battlefronts, but there were always stragglers. The too old or the too young, mostly.

Creatures like this one.

The vornskr stilled, staring at him with those big, wide eyes as if it knew exactly what he was thinking. Boil swallowed. Waxer wouldn’t have let him shoot it. Waxer also wasn’t here now to stop him, but Boil felt his arm lower all the same, just a few inches before he pulled the trigger. The vornskr yelped as the trap hinges came apart in two neat halves and immediately tried to run. It didn’t get very far before it collapsed, panting again.

Boil sighed and shook his head, holstering his blaster across his back.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” he tsked, shuffling closer.

He kept half an eye on the tail, remembering something about it being venomous. While being high off his ass on some unknown substance had the potential to make Cody’s dressing down more interesting, it might also kill him before he got there.

The vornskr growled as he leaned over it, baring needle sharp teeth, and made a snap at him when Boil reached out.

“Ah, give over,” he muttered, batting the attempt away. The little body was light in his hands as he lifted it, careful to let the injured leg hang out as he folded it into his chest. The vornskr made an odd, throaty sound and shifted, almost experimental. Then it huffed, and after a pause laid its head across his vambrace.

Boil rolled his eyes at the display, setting off towards forward command as soon as he was halfway sure he wasn’t in danger of losing a finger.

It was...nice, to have that little body cradled to him, reminiscent of better occasions when Waxer just had to stick his nose into every curious happening and inevitably adopted some struggling lifeform. However much Boil had complained, it had never steered them wrong.

When he got back to command it was to find Cody pacing the perimeter, Potshot perched on a crate nearby. The Commander’s bucket was under his arm. Boil winced. With Cody that was never an accident - usually so he could get the full weight of a glare in, the excavating kind he’d learned from Kenobi and then weaponised so that it pierced straight down to bone.

“Boss!” Potshot exclaimed, pushing off his seat. “You made it!”

“What time d’you call this?” Cody demanded, stalking over. “I was about to -”

Cody stopped short, gaze dropping to the furry bundle against Boil’s breastplate. Something in his expression softened and Boil felt in his heart, panicking as a lump rose in his throat.

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

Boil let his gaze slide downwards to a point far beyond, where two troopers were fighting over a tarp.

“Found it in a trap,” he said, his voice ragged. “Couldn’t - couldn’t let it die.”

He flicked his eyes back to Cody’s face and breathed through the grief and understanding he found there. Cody stepped forward and clasped Boil’s elbow.

“I’m sure Tranq will be able to do something for it.” A little upturn crept into the line of Cody’s lips. “Debrief in fifteen.”

Boil nodded and broke away, tipping his head to Potshot before clearing his throat roughly and popping his bucket off one-handed as he made his way to the medtent. The sun was warm on his face here, the air lighter. A butterfly flew lazily past and the vornskr lifted its head, tracking the motion with large, interested eyes.

Boil smiled, hoisting his bucket under one arm and daring to touch the creature's head with his freed hand. It wouldn’t ever bring Waxer back, but it meant something that this little life continued, because of the choices his brother would have made and all that he had been. Like the phantom touch of the sun still lingering in cooling earth.

It wouldn’t ever be enough. But, perhaps, it was just the right amount to cling onto.

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @simping-for-fives @iscream4clones @bad-batch-of-fics @battletales @majorshiraharu @dom-i-nic @snippytano @missinashkin @808tsuika @eries45 @lussyyung @whatanoof // join here

#clone trooper waxer #clone trooper boil #original clone characters #clone oc potshot #commander cody #212th attack battalion #the clone wars #star wars #the clone wars fanfiction #alderwrites

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wetsteve3 · 2 years

Text

The Wild Stories of the Motorcycles in the 6th Armored Division during World War II. The motorcycles might have caused more problems then the Germans!

Soldiers recount their experiences:

Mel Rappaport – HQ 6th Armored Division

"Yes, we did have Harleys in the division. We had them when we were training at Camp Chaffee, Arkansas and in the Mojave desert in California. In fact, I learned how to drive them, and even suffered a bad fall. I recall all of this very well. Once you master that monster machine, you want to go fast! I was in the desert, making a turn, in the heavy desert sands. The darn thing fell on top of me and it burned my legs as it fell on top of me. That sucker weighed a lot, even in those good old days.

I was careful after that incident; we used them for traffic control. For example, on a road march, they would rush to the front of a tank column, and at a cross road would direct traffic like a traffic cop.

We still had them at Camp Cooke, CA, but if I remember correctly, we had a lot of bad motorcycle accidents and a lot of drivers were hospitalized, all due to recklessness. So I think General Grow just did away with them. Too dangerous. One of my good friends, Sgt. Able, was very badly hurt in a fall and was in the camp hospital.

That was the end of the cycles in our 6th Armored Division. I do not know about the other divisions. All of this is my recollections going down old memory lane, but we did have the motorcycles in the division up to 1943.

Nick, Reconnaissance Company 603rd Tank Destroyer Battalion

"We had Harley motorcycles in Recon Company of the 603rd Tank Destroyer Battalion, and we did take them overseas with us. I believe we had one for each platoon. One of our first casualties was a fellow named Jacobsen who was delivering a message to Headquarters, and had an accident while trying to negotiate a turn on the way back. He was found by some French people, but they were unable to save him.

I cannot remember exactly when, but the motorcycles disappeared later on. They actually were of no use to us, and a real hazard to those that rode them in combat areas. Radios sort of made them obsolete."

Wayne Field, 2nd platoon, D Troop, 86th Reconnaissance Battalion

"During the spring of 1945 some of us in the 86th found a German motorcycle and rode it a little just for fun. I might say, it ISN'T impossible to ride it a slow speeds, just difficult to hold it down.

As a 18-year-old replacement my first motorcycle ride was in Germany. I tried to turn too short and wound up on my back looking up at the machine, the gasoline dripping from the gas tank cap. I'm thankful there wasn't a spark or flame around.

My first horseback ride was over there too. I tried to get on from the left side and landed several feet behind the horse. The horse has the upper hand, or was it foot? I tried again, this time going from the top of a fence to the back of the horse, and succeeded. Oh, there wasn't a saddle around. I don't remember if there was a halter, but I'm sure there wasn't a bridle."

Here is another motorcycle story of sorts.

Horace W Lennon – A Company 25th Armored Engineer Battalion

"On our first morning in combat, we came to a bridge the Germans had blown. The water was only about 2 feet deep so we went on across. On the other side there was an abandoned German motorcycle. My platoon leader Lt. G ( we won't call his name ), examined it and decided it was ridable. He cranked it up, gunned it a few times, and rode it around in a couple of circles. I was in the 1st Platoon's half track and he motioned me over. He said: “Sgt. Lennon, you're in charge now—ride in my jeep—I'm going to do some recon on this motorcycle.” With that he took off.

He'd hardly been gone 5 minutes when the call came in for the engineers to clear some mines. I took a detail (one squad) and we got busy. We cleared and deactivated the mines and placed them outside the road. The convoy got moving again and soon had our first contact with the enemy. Thankfully, it was a light skirmish and we went on our way, but it wasn't long before the call came out again: “Mines—Engineers!”. After we cleared that batch we came in contact with a German outpost. The Infantry took care of that. By then it was starting to get dark and the call came down to go into bivouac and post guard. There wasn't much sleeping that night. We could hear sporadic action up ahead. I thought they were “feelers” testing us out.

About daybreak orders came down to get things ready to move out. I heard someone calling for the engineer platoon so I yelled: “Engineers over here!”.

It was my CO, Captain Brooks. He said he was looking for Lt. G. I told him he had ridden off the day before on a German motorcycle, leaving me in charge, and I hadn't seen him since. After a few choice words, he promised to get me a new platoon leader, and did right away. Lt. Vermillion came and stayed with us from then on. Rumor was that Lt. G. was given a desk job. As for the motorcycle, we never saw it again."

The Giant Killer book and page honors these unique war heroes making sure their stories of valor and sacrifice are never forgotten. God Bless our Vets!🇺🇸

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contrabandhothead · 4 years

Note

omg can u do being in a relationship with nate fick headcanons, I love that man so much

don’t we all love nate??? not only is he iconic, but he’s also literally baby

Ok, this is more of me rambling, but here’s my hot take on being in a relationship with Nate Fick!

If you’re in the battalion...

he worries about you like a mother hen

so it’s safe to say that internally he’s screaming whenever your unit goes out on a mission

he’s always making sure that you and your unit are checked over by Doc Bryan when you return

however, despite the fact that he’s literally screaming inside, he definitely keeps his relationship under wraps

it’s not that he doesn’t want to “show you off” (he definitely does), he just doesn’t want to jeopradize either of your positions within the company

he definitely enjoys stolen kisses whenever you two are alone and everyone else is asleep in their graves (sorry, just facts i don’t make the rules)

recon is always busy, so you guys get most of your time alone together when you’re on leave

he always takes you on the best dates during leave

A L W A Y S

he will settle for nothing less than an amazing date for you

you’re always there to comfort him whenever the officers are being douches, and he’s forever grateful for that

you calm him down whenever he’s 3 seconds away from punching Encino Man and Casey Kasem (honestly I 100% support him punching them tho)

i feel like the majority of the recon marines wouldn’t know you two were dating until you guys actually tell them???

like i swear

these men might be observant

but they can also be oblivious AS F*CK

Gunny knew you two were dating from the start

and so did Rudy

Ray, Brad, & Poke figured it out along the way

when you told the men they were like “??? wot”

Ray made fun of everyone that didn’t figure it out until Brad told him to “shut his hick mouth up”

everyone who you guys told promised to keep their mouths shut around the officers

and most people don’t like them anyways so like who’s gonna snitch

when you guys are stateside, Nate lovesss cuddling in bed

he doesn’t care if he’s big spoon or little spoon, whatever you want is fine (he def likes to be the little spoon from time to time)

did I mention how much he worries about you when you guys are deployed???

like this man is CONCERNED AND ONE LOOK INTO HIS EYES AND JUST EVERYONE KNOWS THAT HE’S FREAKIN OUT OVER HIS GIRL AND HER UNIT

you two are like the parents of the battalion

a bunch of the guys started calling you mom

y’all were wildin

Nate sees how motherly & nurturing you can be with them and he’s so goddamn in love it’s adorable

would marry you in a heartbeat when you went stateside if you asked

honestly just wants you to stay with him and is happy as long as you’re happy

If you’re not in the military...

distance doesn’t matter to either of you when it comes to your relationship

this man sends you so many letters while he’s deployed

he writes one every. single. damn. day.

he writes one regardless of if he’s going to get to send it that day

always signs his letters “until I see you again, Nate” (i’m pulling at my own heart strings here)

Ray definitely bullies him for it but he doesn’t care

actually bonds with a few dudes, especially Poke, over the fact that their lovers are so far away

really misses you

the only thing he looks forward to after deployment is a comfy bed and you in his arms

don’t get me wrong tho

y’all aren’t a clingy type of couple

you can definitely survive without each other

he’s not that big on PDA

maybe an arm around your waist or shoulder so that he can press your body into his side

the type of man you can bring to pretty much any family gathering and get approval from any family member

you & your favorite LT throw a paddle party for a few of the guys leaving

it’s honestly such an amazing bonding time

probably asks you to marry him after his deployment

is 100% down for having kids with you

even though a marine dad and/or a marine husband isn’t the typical kind of white picket fence idea everyone wants, it’s good enough for you two

both of you are so committed to each other

Ray swears he throws up rainbows just looking at the two of you in the same room

even Brad gets a little teary eyed

ALL OF THE UNIT IS INVITED TO THE WEDDING

THEY ALL CRY

ESPECIALLY RAY & RUDY

seeing the two of you get married is probably the best thing that’s happened to the unit

they honestly just want to see you both happy

and they see that you make him happy

and that’s all they want for Nate as their LT (honestly, isn’t that what we all want???)

I tried. Honestly, this is just my though process going downhill... but I hope you enjoyed this, and I sincerely hope you had a lovely day! ❤︎

#nate fick #generation kill #gen kill #generation kill imagine #generation kill hc #generation kill headcanons

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reconfence · 3 years

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darkwritingsnshit · 5 years

Text

Living the Dream

Chapter 2

Warnings: This is a dark fic, please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with noncon, kidnapping, and dark characters

If someone isn’t looking, it’s hard to see a dark car following them home. If someone isn’t looking, it’s easy to miss a single stranger in New York, especially in the dark. It really wasn’t safe to live in these old NYC apartments, the old locks were easy to pick, easier to break with a strong wrist. The single paned windows offered very little insulation or noise control, and again, their locks were easy to pick or break. Steve knew that their house would be an enormous step up for you, a leap even. The two of you wouldn’t live downtown NYC, it would be somewhere more beautiful, may even have that picket fence he knew you secretly dreamed about. He’d also make sure you were much more careful in the future. Be able to spot someone tailing you, check for hidden cameras you seemed to not notice, keep your kids safe from strangers. Yeah, things would be a lot different.

You woke up the next morning with half a dozen apology texts from your brother, and by noon he had called your office phone.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about last night.” He seemed sincere, you knew that he didn’t like to leave you hanging, as often as he did.

“It’s chill, I went over anyway. Tinkered around in the lab, watched a movie. Next time give me a heads up though, you’re ridiculously bad at responding or communicating in any way.” You scolded him over the phone.

“I know, I’m really sorry. It was super last minute, we got the call and I was out in 5 minutes. Will you come down tonight?” You gave out a lengthy sigh as your only response.

“I’m leaving for a while.” Your brother said in a monotone through the phone.

“Leaving? Where are you going?” You hated to see your brother go again, but you knew it was part of the job.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” You had learned not to ask questions a long, long time ago, when he first signed up for the Army. That was always his response “I can’t tell you.” It used to drive you up the wall, but now it was pretty routine. Still it left you miffed.

“I’m your goddamn sister, I’m not going to tell anyone, why do you still have to be like this?” You still knew that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer.

“Look, I’m going to be gone a few months and I have to leave tomorrow. Will you please come over so I can see you and say goodbye? I’m going to miss you.” It was hard to admit but you had come to rely on your brother’s presence in your life. You tried not to, you knew that he would have to leave like this for his job, that nobody was going to take care of you but you. It made you feel defeated, and mad at yourself. Gone were the days of cold indifference to your absent brother, you were close now, you cared now. This was one of the reasons why you tried so damn hard not to care about anyone.

“Fine. I’ll be over after work. But I swear to god if you flake on me again, I’ll kill you before you have a chance to leave, you hoe.” Your brother laughed, mumbled his agreement before you ended the call.

You wound up arriving late at the tower. Your coworker had been kind enough to jump your car, it clicked when you tried to turn the key, but from the sound of it, it was probably just a shorted fuse that ran down the battery. After a go with the jumper cables everything had turned out okay, and you promised yourself to take it to the shop in the morning, as you didn’t have the time to fix it up yourself.

Walking into the tower, it was again Mr. America himself that showed up on the first floor.

“Come here often?” He joked as the two of you made your way to the elevators.

“Are you the official greeting party now?” you wanted to see your brother, not some blonde super soldier.

“Hey, I think I’d make a great greeting party, who doesn’t love seeing Captain America when they walk in the door?” You just rolled your eyes at his comment, happy when the doors slid open to where you could find your brother.

“See you!” Steve called after you. You waved behind your shoulder, missing the scowl he had at your indifference. Everyone loved Captain America, he didn’t get why you seemed impervious to his charm, especially when he was nothing but polite. Plenty of women were falling at his feet for this superhero gig, what was with your sour attitude?

“What up asshole?” You banged the door open to your brother’s room and flopped down on his bed.

“I’m organizing, you messed up all my packing!! Move!” He waved his hands at you as you realized you had indeed flopped on his folded black shirts and a pile of socks.

“Whatever dude, where are you going, when will you be back? What’s for dinner?” You rolled off most of his clothes, but he made a point of yanking the shirt back that was still under your knee.

“You know I can’t tell you. But I’ll probably be back in a few months, like three or four. Six max.” He was focused on rolling all his gear and clothing into his tac bags.

“Six months?” Your brother hadn’t been gone for six months since before your parents had died. He would do a few weeks here and there, but you were grateful Stark kept him pretty close to home. “What am I supposed to do for six months?” you hated the thought of not seeing him for that long, not texting or calling him, just not knowing. He never checked in, he said it wasn’t safe. It was going to be six months of nothing.

“I don’t know, what did you do before? You have a life and stuff, just stay busy.” He was still more preoccupied with packing than realizing what he was saying.

“You know what I did before.” Your voice was icy.

Before, when your brother had been away, you had looked after your parents. You would take care of their lawn and garden; walk the dogs and every Sunday you would make dinner. It was usually three times a week you would read the papers to your father in the evenings, play cards with them until it was time for bed.

“Shit- I’m sorry I didn’t… I mean everyone here loves you! You need to hang out more, come watch movies, work on tech with Stark. They’re good people here, they care about you, you’re family to them.” His speaking was rushed, he was trying to cover his misstep.

“They’re your family. They’re more like coworkers to me.” You flopped back on the bed again, studying the ceiling.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you do that, you’re just going to wallow. You know that there’s enough tech here to keep you busy for years, not just six months. Come down here when you’re bored. Also, I think Steve may have a crush, he’s been asking about you a lot.”

You rolled your eyes at your brother but knew that he was right about the wallowing. Depression came quick if you let it, it was always best to head it off.

“Fine, I’ll come by more often to stay busy. Tell that golden retriever to stop sniffing around where he isn’t wanted though.” Your brother laughed out loud at that one, more used to your snarky attitude and flippant jokes than anyone else.

“You pick dinner, we can do anything. Small possibility I snatched the company card this morning…” He held a small piece of plastic between his fingers with a smile. You threw a pillow at his head.

“You’re the worst person ever.” You said.

“Hey, whatever. I figure Stark should buy me dinner before fucking me with this six-month assignment he’s got me on, right?”

Dinner came in the form of Chinese take out containers, as reruns of The Office played behind you and your brother’s conversation.

“Did I miss anything exciting? More importantly did you get anything good with my credit card?” Tony swiped the plastic card your brother had left on the table next to the takeout.

“Yeah, I bought a few Lamborghinis, a couple private islands, you know, nothing too fancy. Thought we could take a vacation once I get back.” Your brother replied around his eggroll.

“Well, as long as they’re my colors, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Tony replied, snatching a wanton and sitting down in a lounge chair. “Let me tell you, it’s gonna be pretty weird here without my house full of the team. I’m actually going to miss your horrible attitude and constant backtalk while you’re gone.”

“Wait, you mean it’s not just you leaving?” You turned to your brother.

“Nope, almost everyone is outta here tomorrow. Nat, Sam and Wanda are coming along. Bucky is somewhere in the steppes of Russia doing recon, and Bruce is doing what exactly? Helping out with Ebola, or is it clean water? Something about doctors, right Tony?” Your brother mused.

“Bruce headed to Yemen, he’s implementing our new filtration system for water, while providing free medical care to refugees.” Tony corrected.

“So, who’s left?” You asked.

“Well let’s see, it’ll be our golden boy Rodgers, he’s helping me with a huge PR nightmare, Pepper is always around, Thor likes to stop in occasionally, and the kid swings by when he’s not helping old ladies cross the street or playing video games after school. You know what?” Tony remarked, “Why don’t you stay here until everyone is back? Pepper would love it if there was a more talkative lady around, and no offence, but the guys here really trash the place. You could also pop into the lab whenever you want, get some late-night tinkering in when you can’t sleep. That’d be a lot of fun.” Tony looked like a five-year-old with a new bright idea. You laughed, sitting back against the couch.

“Believe it or not, I actually like the peace and quiet, that’s why I live alone. Besides, I am never, ever staying in his room. I saw what it looked like when he lived at home, I’ve found some weird shit he’s left in the corners.” You pushed on your brother’s shoulder.

“Hey! I never asked you to help me clean my room, and I was like, fourteen. Stay out of my room, Jesus.” You just laughed some more.

“See, exactly what I’m talking about. I really appreciate the offer though.”

“Okay, I won’t push it. On the condition that you come by at least once a week. No scratch that, two or three times. I’m going to keep calling you down to the lab, I don’t have Banner to balance me out.”

“You’re going to have to start paying me Tony.” You replied.

“No problem, I’ll have Pepper put you on payroll. Actually, you’ve got a ton of back hours logged, I’ll get that set up.” Tony stood and was already on his tablet.

“No! Stop, Tony it was a joke, of course I’ll come by. I’m usually free after five, just give me a call or text and I’ll come over.” Tony mumbled something that sounded like ‘yeah, yeah’ and continued out of the room.

“I hate to leave but it’s getting late.” You didn’t want to leave. You really didn’t want to leave your brother, not knowing if or when you would see him again. “Don’t fucking die, you hear me? Come home.” You looked him directly in the eye, you needed him to know that you were serious. He wrapped you in a hug and squeezed tight. You didn’t want him to let go.

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” he held your shoulders, “I’m going to be great. I promise. It’s not dangerous, and if it is, you know I can take care of myself. With my backup, the only person you should be worried about is the guy in my crosshairs. Okay? I promise that I’m coming home to you.” You nodded and he squeezed you tight again. “Now go home and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll be home before you miss me.”

Regretfully, you parted ways with your brother, and headed towards the elevators. Down, down, down until it stopped on the 5th floor with a ding. It was golden boy Rodgers himself, who greeted you with a smile.

“Going down?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s late, I’m heading home.” You were sad now you missed your pain in the ass of a brother already.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Steve offered, and you were too tired to turn him down.

#dark!steve rogers #dark!captain america #my writing #steve rodgers x reader #captain america x reader #this is dark

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barnesthesarge · 5 years

Text

Here For You (1)

Bucky X Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: fighting, naughty language, angst

Summary: The Avengers have a new enhanced on their radar when they run into you during a HYDRA extraction mission.

“We’ve been doing recon for two hours, can we please just get on with this?” Bucky grumbled, he lied down on his stomach behind a big clump of grass, below him was the HYDRA facility they needed to infiltrate.

“What, you have somewhere else to be Barnes?” Tony snapped, Bucky inwardly groaned. Of course it had to be Tony to respond.

“No.” He mumbled, looking back through his scope, “Hold on, I see movement.” A woman darted out from the woods and made a staircase of purple light, hopping over the fence and landing in a roll. “Enhanced on sight, looks like telepathic powers.”

“Wanda?” Steve asked, on it, the redhead responded.

Bucky watched as the woman pushed the security cameras that Natasha had disabled to be facing away from her, not knowing she has company. “We have to move, who knows what she’s here for.” Bucky shoved the scope into his pocket and started down the hill.

“Everyone, complete your mission, keep comms on, stay safe. Report to me if you need help, I’m still in the jet, it won’t be good if I have to help, they’ll notice my suit on their radars, but if need be, I’m here.” Tony ordered. Bucky rolled his eyes and climbed the fence with ease. He didn’t see the enhanced woman.

Bucky heard screaming and gunshots suddenly, before sprinting to an unlocked door. “She’s going after the serum too guys, but she doesn’t have bad intentions.” Wanda said over the comms.

“What’s the intentions then? It’d be in safer hands with us.” Tony replied.

“She wants to destroy it.” There was a loud thud, “Shit, she’s tearing the place apart, we have to hurr—“ the comm cut off.

“That’s in I’m coming in.” Tony growled, Bucky ran towards the commotion, taking out any agents on his way. He was moving so fast, he didn’t notice he bumped right into the enhanced, she fell over and grunted, eyes widening in fear when she saw him.

“It’s okay it’s okay!” Bucky started but she shoved him out of the way roughly with her powers and pushed herself up, sprinting away quickly, Bucky was hot on her heels.

Her Y/H/C hair swayed in the wind behind her, she looked back at him, Y/E/C eyes filled with desperation as she shoved him back again.

“Don’t go! Please!” Bucky yelled, he couldn’t forget her beautiful face as she held him against a wall and disappeared down the halls.

“I’ve got eyes! She’s running into the woods!” Tony informed, Bucky peeled himself off the floor, groaning at the forming pain in his back from hitting the wall so hard twice.

“What the—I lost her. Does anyone see her?” Tony asked, cursing at how much he wished Sam was there.

“I found Wanda, she’s unconscious. Let’s meet back at the Jet.” Steve ordered. Bucky began his long walk back to the jet, climbing the fence again.

The ride back from Spain to New York was painful, the tension of a mission failure on everyone’s shoulders. Wanda was awake now, with a nice concussion, telling Tony about what happened.

———————————————————————

Within the next week, a new file was being made on Y/N Y/L/N, a new enhanced. Granted the file was short, but it contained everyone that Wanda and Bucky discovered about her.

Now everyone was gathered in the meeting room, looking at security footage taken that day of her breaking into the compound, and putting the serum in Tony’s lab, and then leaving without touching anything.

“So she’s in New York too, I want all eyes out today looking for her. Because while she doesn’t seem to be a bad guy, she could fit in on the team.” Tony shrugged.

“Who’s to say she didn’t already get on the next plane to who knows where?” Sam asked, “and honestly it doesn’t seem like she wants to take part in this.”

“Well even if she doesn’t, she’s still an unregistered enhanced, and now on HYDRA’s radar too. It’s better we find her and not them.” Bucky piped up.

“She’s scared and powerful, it doesn’t mix well.” Wanda muttered. Bucky could tell her head still hurt, he wondered what else she saw in Y/N’s head.

“Well if there’s no more stupid questions, let’s go help her out.” Tony dismissed everyone, all rushing to get their gear.

———————————————————————

You flicked channels again, settling on a cheesy action movie, diving into your takeout. It was a rainy day in New York, and your best friend’s apartment was cosy.

She wasn’t home, and while she didn’t know you were there, she wouldn’t have cared anyways. You did this often, traveling around the world, making friends, doing secret stuff, and staying with said friends. It worked out well. But now you worried you hit a bump in your plans by going after whatever the Avengers were.

You weren’t even sure what you had stolen from HYDRA, it was a bottle of something blue. At least you gave it to the Avengers, but it did nothing to aid the sinking feeling they were coming for you.

You booked a flight for tomorrow already, going to England to visit another friend and go into hiding. You weren’t safe in the United States, or Spain. England was a big enough country to blend in, and as long as you didn’t get into any more trouble, you’d be safe there for the next month or so.

You finished your takeout and tossed the packaging, ready to go curl up and read a book. There was a knock at the door and you froze, your friend wasn’t home, so either somebody knew you were there, or somebody didn’t know she wasn’t. You tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole, a blonde man you didn’t recognize stood, you figured it was just a neighbor and walked away. Only to have him knock again. You waited for him to leave, but it had been ten minutes and he was still there.

You got your hair wet and answered the door, “Can I help you?” You asked politely. “Sorry I just got out of the shower.”

“No worries at all, is Angie here?” He asked and you felt relief, he wasn’t after you.

“No she’s away on vacation, I’m house sitting for her.” He nodded.

“Ah, I was wondering. Could I come in and get some sugar? I’m making a pie and ran out, my kids are getting antsy.” He grinned.

“Does she let you come in often?” You asked, dumbfounded.

“She babysits for me sometimes. She’s asked me to housesit in the past too.” You nodded and opened the door, letting him in. He reached into one of the cabinets and you opened the refrigerator, grabbing a soda to drink. When you stood back up he was in front of you, slapping a disk on your neck. “I got her!” He yelled and you screamed in shock as the disk sent a wave of pain through your body.

You collapsed, but still managed to shove him across the room, he landed in a heap at the door. You tried to pull the disk off, but it only hurt worse, your vision was darkening as more figures entered the apartment. Everything went black.

———————————————————————

“You found her where?!” Voices came from behind one-way glass. The voices were familiar.

“She was in a HYDRA van, they disabled her with this. I can only imagine how awful she feels.”

“Yeah but Tony, how’d you find her? We spent all morning looking.” Tony, as in Tony Stark?

“Steve, Steve.” Tony paused, “While I had you guys on the prowl, I had FRIDAY use data scans I got in Spain, and the ones she got from this morning to track her energy. She was in a van driving towards a private property. I was able to fly her back here, and the good news is that this disc didn’t do any permanent damage. They used it to shock her hard enough to knock her out, those bastards.”

You sat up, studying the room, there was a camera, a speaker, and you were laying in a cot. “Hi Ms. Y/L/N, it’s nice to see that you’re awake after how I found you.” The glass cleared, and Tony Stark stood next to Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes, who had tried to stop you in Spain.

“We aren’t going to hurt you, were here to help.” Captain America himself spoke, you found him to be honest.

“I already gave back whatever the hell I took from that HYDRA facility.” Tony smiled.

“Which was really good of you. I actually would like you offer a spot on the Avengers. You were able to disable Wanda, and she’s pretty tough. And you managed to somehow escape me, I think it’s safe to say you’d be a big help to us.”

You looked to Bucky, who held the same worried expression as when he tried to stop you, his forehead creased, and eyebrows knitted together. His deep blue eyes studied you, you hated how handsome he looked.

“Y/N, what do you say?” Tony inquired after several moments of silence on your end.

“What’s in it for me?” You blurted, “Say I join your band of misfits, I lose my lifestyle. I don’t get to be hidden from the world, my identity is no longer a secret, I gain more enemies that now know where to find me. It’s a no from me. I’d rather keep doing my own thing.”

“So what you gain more enemies? Trust me, I thought I had it good when I was all alone, just me against the world, but it’s lonely isn’t it? I have a family here who cares whether or not I come home. Do you?” Bucky spoke up, you knew he wasn’t trying to be an asshole.

“In this line of work it seems I don’t need anyone to care. Besides, I do have people all over the globe that care, you don’t know shit about me, and once I getaway again, you won’t know anymore than you did already.” You growled, Tony raised his eyebrows and chuckled.

“Y/N, even if you do leave, I now have the means to track you. Also you’re an unregistered enhanced, it won’t just be us tracking you. HYDRA found you before we did, and they want to use you, we want to help you. Barnes knows exactly what you’re going through, so does Wanda. We can help you recover. At the end of the day, you can run all you got, but you can’t hide, these people in this building will give you a home, and protect you, and you’re saying that isn’t necessary?” He paused, “Everyone needs love Y/N, you’re no exception.”

You gritted your teeth and stood up, “As much as I’d love to stick around, I have a flight to catch tomorrow, and I don’t plan on having any of you drive me to the airport.” You broke the door open with a simple press of your powers, and ran down the hall, feeling lightheaded from the disc still. You were looking for an exit when you were pressed to the ground by the Scarlett Witch.

“I don’t think we’ve officially met, but I won’t forget you dropped a roof on me, neither will my head. However I’m willing to overlook it if you’re going to stick around.” She chuckled.

“I’m not.” You grunted and shoved her back with your own powers, the red swirls disappeared from your vision, and you scooped yourself back up to keep running. You felt something harsh wrap around your wrist and stop you, you fell to the ground and looked to see Bucky Barnes over you, his metal hand holding you.

“Don’t go, please..we can help you.” He sounded so sincere, “I don’t want you to go through what I did.”

You hesitated to speak again, “I won’t get captured.” You yanked your wrist from his grip but he tackled you to keep you on the ground.

“It’s a life without trust. You won’t like being on the run. You can’t sleep, eat, you’ll never feel safe again.” He grunted as you punched him in the jaw. It likely hurt you more than him.

“Get the hell off me!” You shoved him and then you looked up to see yourself surrounded.

“If you’re not going to join us, at least stay in touch?” Steve suddenly offered a hand to help you up. You accepted, seeing Bucky pull himself up, looking like a kicked puppy.

“I can give you one of my Stark phones.” Tony suggested, “That way if you change your mind, you can just text, or maybe if you just need someone to talk to, any of us can help. If you don’t feel safe, any of us can come to you and help you. How does that sound?”

———————————————————————

A/N: hopefully I actually finish this series oh god

#bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #fanfiction #the winter solider x reader #winter soldier #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader

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thegamecollection · 5 years

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Ghost Recon Breakpoint – Hands On @ E3 2019

I headed over to the Ubisoft booth to check out Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon Breakpoint for myself. Breakpoint is set on the island of Auroa located in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and home to the Skell Tech company. If you’ve played Ghost Recon Wildlands you’ll be familiar with the Skell Tech company and it’s tech genius boss that is Jace Skell. He wants to use his drone technology to help the world, while the Wolves led by Cole Walker have taken over the island and are selling the weapon systems to terrorists and other corrupt regimes.

The demo was from a level called “Without a Trace” and was setup so we had one Ubisoft developer playing with us, guiding us through while us three strangers made up the rest of the co-op team. Starting at the top of the mountain we needed to move down running and sliding towards the complex patrolled by the Wolves.

We reached a road with a passing convoy. Without hesitating we opened fire and took down the Wolves who immediately spotted us. We were supposed to choose whether we wanted to approach with stealth or force at this point but we made the choice before our Ubisoft helper had chance to ask us!

We moved across the now clear road and encountered a few more Wolves that were despatched equally rapidly before reaching a high point above the complex where we took cover and pressed up on our d-pads to deploy our drones to scout the area. These let us fly over the entire vicinity undetected, spotting the enemies patrolling the complex. There were a couple of “heavy” enemies that we needed to take out with our sniper before we could move onto the other enemies. It was at that point I remembered it was me who was equipped with the sniper rifle – no pressure then! With luck or skill I managed to take down both of the “heavy” enemies with relative ease and also helped my team-mates take out some of the other enemies, including a drone, as they moved closer to the perimeter of the complex. Whilst I stayed up high providing cover they used a breach kit to break through the fence of the complex. As they went in I decided to move down the slope and catch up with them.

Maybe we had a good team but it seemed relatively easy to get in although one of my team mates did take some critical damage and needed to make use of their bandages and medical syringes to revive themselves. Once inside the complex we moved towards the target building and up the flights of stairs to find our target. My character, Nomad, engaged in a conversation with her where we found out she’d been made to work on the drones. There’s then a flashback cut-scene with Cole (played by Jon Bernthal) in a sniper’s nest where they takedown three targets while discussing the RET Team – Retaliation Team ‘super secret squirrel shit’!

Back to the present and our target is not willing to leave. There’s a dialog choice to be made but our Ubisoft helper tells me the choice doesn’t make a difference to the outcome of the mission so I just pick the last option – I don’t even recall what it said! She agrees to come with us and she says she’s hooked up some devices so we can sabotage the complex after we’ve left. We head out of the building to place two bombs, one to the north and one to the south before heading back inside to our target.

Wolves appear in a cutscene and we take out a load of drones as they attack us all. One of the drones is shot down but as it flies out of control it catches the woman’s leg giving her a nasty injury. She asks to be taken to South Cape Station so I lift her over my shoulder and we start to make our way out of the building. We’re met by more Wolves and a large gunfight breaks out. Some of our guys take some damage and again make use of the bandages and syringes to recover. As we make our way away from the building it explodes and we continue towards the helicopter to make our escape. At that point our helpful Ubisoft guide tells us our time with Ghost Recon Breakpoint is over.

I really enjoyed playing the co-op demo at E3, it always helps when you’ve got a developer on your team of course! From what I saw the storyline seemed solid and the tactical nature of the battles seemed spot on. Ghost Recon Breakpoint is out on 4 October 2019 and as usual it’s available to preorder right now from The Game Collection.

- Giles

#e32019 #e3 2019 #ubisoft #ghost recon breakpoint #ps4 #xbox one #pc #video games #ghost-recon-breakpoint #thegamecollection #news

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reconfence0-blog · 2 years

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urbancoroner · 6 years

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NIKE MISSILE BASE HM-40: LAUNCHER AREA

The time I tried to find an abandoned missile site but wandered into crocodile hell instead

With a vague idea of where I was going and armed only with my Nikon and claws, I set off alone for Key Largo at high noon. Seeing as this place looked pretty wilderness-y, I assumed it would be a Pineapple Paradise kind of deal where I could only find it by Google Earth coordinates and careful guesswork but damn if it didn't appear when I typed "Nike Missile Base Key Largo" into the Maps search.

I haven't been to the Keys in over 18 years and I barely saw it then so I appreciated being able to take in the scenery in silence as I drove. The Card Sound Bridge was pretty intimidating and I smiled to myself imagining how hard my mom would NOPE if she saw it approaching on the roadway ahead, cutting a thin, two-lane asphalt slice directly upwards through clear, cloudless blue skies.

I slowed down a bit once my app indicated I was approaching my destination. When I started the directions I'd noted that the little marker for my destination appeared to be a bit off the roadway in the middle of the wilderness. I'd resigned myself to having to park nearby where the marker was - but not too close seeing as I don't want to be TOO conspicuous - and walk into that patch of green where the marker sat. It took me a few passes to find the right spot but eventually I pulled off to the side and parked across the street and slightly south of where my destination was. I looked up and saw a sign proudly announcing "Crocodile Lake" between my car and the break in vegetation that would be my entrance point. Awesome.

I did a bit of on the spot recon - as much as my cell service would allow me to since it was barely hanging on to a signal. The time it took for Google Earth to load up on the tenuous connection gave me a chance to reflect on the podcasts Flowerbomb and I had been listening to lately that detailed strange disappearances in National Parks - of which I was currently in. Google Earth didn't tell me much more than I already knew. I was looking for any kind of view of buildings in relation to where I currently was, specifically the radar towers that I knew should be visible above the trees, to gauge which direction I should head off into. All I saw on the satellite picture was a barely-there path amid the endless forest in the general shape of a conversation bubble that had obviously been a road at one time. Any buildings that could be or should be along that road were hidden beneath a sea of green.

This was about as prepared as I was going to be and if I was going to get lost in the fucking forest I might as well do it while I still have at least three and a half hours of quality daylight left. With this mindset I changed from my flip flops into my flats - people who are ill-prepared for the wilderness rarely get taken - and jogged across the street, camera thrown over my shoulder and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. I power-walked along for a ways until I felt my presence was mostly concealed from any passing cars by the mass of trees encroaching on the once-road.

As I drew further away from the road, the ambient noise of civilization quickly faded and I was struck once again by how deafening the silence is in the middle of the wilderness by yourself. Luckily the former road I was on was wide enough that I was mostly able to avoid the surrounding trees and I didn't immediately encounter any of the aforementioned crocodiles or other wildlife that would like to eat me. In fact, there were no animals around at all, with the exception of the occasional bug that buzzed harmlessly by. I was very, very alone.

This was a bit of a relief, after all no company is better than large, hungry reptiles. Mostly, though, the heavy silence and isolation were just unnerving. It didn't help that an eerie feeling hung heavy over the area as well. I came to an area where the road forked and after consulting Google Earth - which was thankfully still hanging on to my connection - I saw this was where it circled around. Both roads would eventually take me to the same place so I elected to take the direction that was not mostly blocked by a huge, old orange dumpster.

Unfortunately, that direction was a much tighter path that required me to get way more intimate with nature than I had desired or intended, especially in shoes that barely covered the tops of my feet. Most of the path required me to bend down and duck beneath low-hanging branches and spider webs I only just managed to see in time.

"Kaine's gonna be so mad when he finds out I did this alone,' I thought to myself as I did it anyway. I am stubborn and refuse to have been not-so-gently caressed by so very many branches and god knows what else for nothing and that stubbornness was the only thing preventing me from turning back now.

Once the path opened up again, the eerie feeling increased as well. The trees here were still thick, but now I had enough space to continue on without being concerned I was going to be dive-bombed by a thousand banana spiders for walking face first into their web.

I watch the killer channel enough to know that this is the exact situation people are in right before they get murdered in some weird way and go missing forever so I called Flowerbomb just so my cell phone would ping off the nearest tower and the police would have somewhere to start looking for me when I mysteriously disappear.

I told Flowerbomb as much on the phone and she immediately requested that I video chat her so she too can experience wilderness hell. Talking with her distracted me from the feeling that I was immediately about to be taken by the swamp wendigo and robbed of my shoes, even though she was awestruck by the fact that I was DEFINITELY about to become one of those podcast disappearance stories.

There wasn't much for her to see on the video chat as far as scenery, not only because the connection was weak and occasionally breaking up, but mainly because there wasn't much to see at all. I mentally orientated myself and was pretty sure I was walking around the far side of the rounded part of the path. I still hadn't found any buildings. I could see a fence running along what I assumed was once the perimeter of the area about ten feet from the path I was on and just barely visible through the brush.

As I continued on, I saw bits of wreckage here and there; the remains of what had once been buildings most likely, demolished and now nearly entirely swallowed by nature. Beyond the thick trees, on the side opposite where the fence ran toward the center of the long, rounded road I thought I saw what might be a bunker of some sort. It was a built up area that almost looked like it had been built into a hill. There was some concrete protruding from the foliage, which was the only thing that tipped me off that it was - or had been - a building in the first place. It looked like the doorway to one of the control stations in Lost, which is the main reason I assumed there was a door there. Because of the overgrowth I couldn't tell for sure - and there was also a high probability that it was actually just a storm drain or something equally useless, which is why I was unwilling to brave the heavily wooded area to find out for sure.

Still on the phone with Flowerbomb, complaining about how damn lost I was, I rounded the corner and though there was still nothing to be found but indistinguishable rubble I was relieved that there was also no hungry crocs or cryptids. The road widened here again and the forest was back in its lane - by which I mean not in my fucking face.

I rounded another corner, now theoretically heading back in the direction from which I'd come, and was disappointed that I hadn't found anything worth exploring. I saw a wider open area along this way and my hopes had revived for a moment that there might be something to actually photograph, but when I finally passed the trees that had been blocking the view I saw nothing but the foundation of a building that had obviously once stood here.

I didn't understand, had the location been demolished? Something had most definitely once been here, even if it was all rubble and remnants now. Was there nothing remaining of Nike Missile Site HM-40 but stray blocks and a lonely foundation rapidly being consumed once more by nature?

A short way past the foundation was the orange dumpster, indicating that I'd at least reached the same area I'd started from and wasn't quite as lost as I'd thought. I decided to quit while I was ahead - by which I mean not a delicious crocodile brunch - and head out the way I'd come. I didn't get anything to photograph but I also didn't get eaten so it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Once I was safely back in the air conditioned comfort of my car I tried to regroup. I opened Google Earth once again to see where I'd fucked up on this. Was the location demolished and gone? Or was I just in the wrong place? In one final weird-as-hell moment when I opened Google Earth and told it to find my location, it put me across the street, still in the woods that I had just left. I tried again, assuming the app was just glitching (despite the fact that it had been working flawlessly all day, even out in the woods, and I now had enough bars back to sustain the app). Once again, it showed my location as in the woods.

I took a screenshot and sent it to Flowerbomb, telling her what was happening and her immediate response was a resounding GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!

Ignoring the weird wendigo-ness going down on my app, I panned around the surrounding area trying to see if maybe Maps had just led me to the wrong location, even though something obviously had been there. I turned on the Maps again and searched "Nike Missile Base Kay Largo" and this time, since I was actually paying full attention to what I was doing, I noticed that the app gave me TWO results; one of which was the forest location I'd just left and the other about a mile north of my current location titled "Control Site".

Later I'd find that I was actually at the right location, just at the wrong part of it. Nike missile bases consisted of two facilities; the Launch Area where the missiles were stored, assembled and - obviously - launched, and the Integrated Fire Control (IFC) site, which was always located about a mile away from the Launch Area, which consisted of the barracks, radar tower, administration facilities, etc. Basically the IFC site was the brains and the Launch site was the muscle.

The area I had just left was the original Launch Area of the HM-40 site and had been demolished long ago and given to the US Fish and Wildlife Service, who turned it into a protected habitat and nesting ground for the endangered American crocodile. The IFC site was what I had been looking for.

This is why it pays to do more than ten minutes of half-assed research, kids. Normally I'm much more careful and coordinated than this but when I'm going out adventuring by myself I have way more of a go-with-the-flow attitude. When I have others with me, our locations are more carefully thought out, but when I'm by myself I allow myself to take more chances and see where the day takes me. Sometimes it works out and I find some really cool places. Other times I end up getting almost-lost in a crocodile infested forest because my dumb ass skipped off half-cocked into the wrong damn location.

#story #urbex #urban exploration #urban exploring #abandoned #launcher area #south florida #florida #writing

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