#i know i need to do a perfect movement tech to do wall route. i will devtools or simply git gud

[shadowthian]

i now have about 30 hours in rain world!

I STILL HAVENT EVEN MET FIVE PEBBLES ONCE

so i've promised myself that in four weeks when i get computer back (or before then if im really at my limit) if i still havent beaten Monk or Survivor's campaign, i'll use devtools to ascend so that i can play a slugcat thats not white or yellow

#i wanna restart my monk run but im on cycle fucking 37 after 5 restarts and its the furthest i've ever gotten #i made it to underhang and went “oh fuck this” and passaged back to industrial so i can go thru chimney canopy up the wall #i know i need to do a perfect movement tech to do wall route. i will devtools or simply git gud #im so tired i wanna play artificer i wanna play spearmaster i wanna mess w gourmand crafting I WANNA PLAY RIVULET #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #im not looking forward to hunter lmao sorry little buddy. making the game even harder sounds like torture #shoutout to steam workshop mods are making this so much more bearable #aim assist and clown long legs my beloved with their loving partner sbcamerascroll

[aealrizen]

“Well, speak of the enigma. Never thought I’d see you in person.” The lad with the name Morna stenciled on the plate on his chest commented after looking at the results of yet another palm scan from Ian. The trip through the city had been easy with the map they had been provided, but the route through the office building had taken a few turns. Midas felt about ready to jump out of the window at the slightest movement towards him, feeling like he was inside C-Tech all over again. The pristine walls and floors mopped clean with some sterilization agent that smelled of soap and chemicals. They didn’t even try putting more welcoming scents in it this time it seemed.

“Secretary Benjamin Morna. I guess you’ve been looking for me? What can I do for you?” Benjamin commented, giving Midas a mildly concerned look since Whip’s awkward smile as he held onto his arm made him look like a criminal.

“...Enigma?” Ian ended up asking, rubbing the back of his neck a little. That was a new one, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Honestly the sight of this kid was giving him an upset stomach from the memories his face dragged up. But he tried not to think about it. Even if he was related, it wasn’t his fault.

“Yeah. All the higher ups are cursing you as well as admiring you under their breath. It’s hard not to hear about the one everyone calls the loophole accident savior.” Benjamin admitted with a shrug. “I highly doubt you’re here to check in on the rumours though. So….” he trailed, prodding Ian for an answer to the previous question.

“Ahm. Right. We’re looking to take any jobs en-route to Eutoli. We’ll be passing by there, and want to make sure we don’t get snatched for creepers or something,” Ian answered, trying to make it seem that Eutoli was just a stop on the way since in the past the soldiers were very guarded towards anyone that wanted to go there as a destination.

“Escort job to Eutoli, gotcha,” Benjamin accepted easily and started tapping on his tablet.

Whip’s smile faded to be replaced by a confused grimace as Midas started to voice their concerns. “You’re not…….nevermind.” The last time he talked openly in a place with a feel like this he was hooked up to a computer to have his brain invaded. Not something he wanted to repeat.

“Hmm?” Benjamin prodded, looking up from the tablet with a neutral smile.

“We’re just not used to such easy feedback,” Ian admitted with a weak chuckle.

“Oh? Made it too easy for you huh?” Benjamin huffed, a smirk betraying his mirth. “Well I’m about to freak you out more. There’s a maintenance supply transport scheduled for Eutoli the day after tomorrow. Minor materials, so they don’t feel the need to restructure ranks to offer a guard for it. Think you guy’ll be perfect for it.” He was about to ask if they wanted the job, but ended up assuming they would and pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket. “You’ll need a place to stay for the night. Just take this note and give it to the lady at this address. I’ll call ahead and let her know you're coming.”

As the note was held out to him, Ian hesitated to take it. Not only because the others were starting to squint warily at it, but also because he felt like he’d had too much interaction with Benjamin already. “You…your grandmother…?” The words slipped before Ian could stop himself, and Ian felt his chest constrict with anxiety for the answer. He took the paper to try and mask his unease..

“Hm? Clara Morna,” Benjamin answered easily. “Know her?”

“Oh shh…,” Whip hissed, cutting himself off with a throat clear and shifting his weight.

“N…ah……. Briefly,” Ian admitted, lowering his head slightly in a departing bow. “Thank you for your assistance. We’ll be leaving now,” he bid politely before turning on his heel and striding towards the exit.

“What?” Midas hissed as Whip also nodded to Benjamin before he started dragging Midas to follow Ian. “What’s going on? Do we kiii- ck his ass? Is he dangerous?”

“Shhh,” Whip shushed quickly, holding a finger up. “I’ll tell you later. He’s fine.”

Midas obediently closed his mouth, but he couldn’t help squinting over his shoulder at the bewildered secretary they left behind.

_________________________________

I keep forgetting what tags I use for this X’DDD

This one was a struggle to draw because I kept being wishywashy on his appearance.

#Rizen #original characters #original story #ocs #web light novel #sci fi #cyborg #semi slice of life #post apocalypse #Benjamin Morna

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt5)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and betrothed are asses.

“Please I am begging you, not Coruscant. Take me anywhere else, do whatever you like, just don’t send me back to him.” You ramble as you're pushed down the stairs from before and forced into a small cell.

“Sergeant's orders,” The clone shrugs. And tears fall freely, whatever awaited you as Nythons wife has now become impossibly worse as a result of your running. You try to stifle them when you see Tech again, and your hands grasp the cold bars.

“Tech!” you screech like a madwoman, “you said you would help me, you said you knew him!” You see him guilty look away, and pull a crate of medical supplies into his arms.

“Wrecker I need you on the deck, Crosshair needs a stim and you know how he gets…” He says to the larger clone, who must go by Wrecker, making the one called Crosshair presumably the one injured in your saving. Wrecker nods and follows him towards the stairs.

“P-please,” You try once more, standing in a cell, with a ruined dress, gunpowder in your hair, battered muscles and tears leaving the only trails of clean skin on your face.

Neither of them even turn to look back at you.

For whatever kind of terrible wife you may have made, you’re a decidedly worse stowaway. You groan at it all, not even having made it a full cycle hidden on the ship before being caught. And the pain from having smashed into the hull of the vessel itself hurts so much, like all of your muscles are stuck in a permanent cramp. You flop onto the wooden floor of the cage the clones have thrown you in, but refuse to cry again.

Above you, an intense argument starts.

“Wield that thing at me again Tech and you’ll lose your hand.” Someone snaps

“It is a stim Crosshair not a kriffing viroblade!” Tech’s voice is easily discernible for that of a clone. You realise it’s softer, and has less of the gritty depth and rather more of a thoughtful comforting sound. So even when he’s frustrated he still sounds kind.

“Wrecker you’re fucking terrible at stealth.” Crosshair, you presume, states.

“Just take the needle vod you need it!” a deeper set voice chimes in.

“Give it to the girl, she hit the hull hardest, not to mention the iron hold Hunt’er must have had on her.” You hear him sigh after that.

“Cross don’t start something…” Tech warns,

“It’s Volim -kriffing- Nython.” He seethes. “Maker forgive us if we give her back to him.”

“I was not aware you had suddenly become so religious…”

Tech.” Crosshair cuts in, “He used to collect Lekku for fun-”

“I know.”

“And Zabarak horns.”

“I know.”

“How many of our brothers did he kill?” “Crosshair I Know!” You hear Tech shout before everyone falls quiet. You hear mumbling next but can't make out what's being said. “Take the stim or don’t, see if I care.” You hear him slam something down before you hear and see footsteps approaching.

Tech makes his way back down into the brig, walking past your cell to put the medpack back on the furthest wall. And you let him walk by you again before saying something.

“Tech?” You croak out, thinking he will keep walking up the few steps back onto the bridge, except he stops, does not turn to you, but stops nevertheless. “I do not know much about Clones…” You admit gulping. “But at least I thought mandalorians had more honor.”

“And do we look like mandalorians to you?” He counters, not with malice but almost as a genuine question.

“Your armor did.” You say and you watch as he turns. Blocking the light that's coming in from the door, his auburn hair and curious eyes that he knows usually get the better of him. And underneath the baggy pants that are tucked into his boots, you see a flash of the under most shirt, a faded symbol on his chest beneath the white layers of loose fitting cloth.

“How do you know what clone armour looked like, and yet not know anything about clones?” He enquires earnestly.

You take a deep breath thinking about how to phrase your answer, and considering you’re on borrowed time you think it's best to keep it short.

“Lekku and Horns weren't the only things he collected.”

His face plummets before he bolts out of the brig.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

The Captain of the havoc Marauder has just about finished his first flask of whiskey when one of his soldiers comes bursting through the doors to his private rooms.

“Have you ever heard of knocking Tech?” Hunter Inquires, his heavy coat draped over his sleeping area and his hat thrown somewhere amongst his pile of clothes. Leaving him in rolled up sleeves, his red bandana and threadbare pants that desperately needed replacing. From here tech can see his traitor branding on the inner arm and the pirate sigil necklace that he’d nicked from Hondo some years back.

“Captain - Sarge…” Tech says quickly knowing his brothers are probably nosing their ways over here sooner rather than later. “I want to propose an alternate route.”

“To Coruscant?” Hunter asks with a raised eyebrow.

“The Alderaanian trading post.” He states firmly. “We’d be there in a matter of rotations, the wind and the currents are in perfect conditions. She’d be out of our hair in days…”

“I’m not harbouring a fugitive, soldier.” Hunter cuts him off glaring.

“She is not a fugitive.” Tech argues, turning around as Crosshair and Wrecker join him in the captain's quarters before turning back to his captain. “That woman has done nothing wrong.”

“He’s right.” Crosshair says agreeing with someone for once. “The Corellian Run is a straight shot to Alderaan.”

“This is not up for debate soldiers.” He grits out.

“We are not giving her to that monster sarge. We’re just not.” Everyone turns to Wrecker in shock, despite his appearance and love for all things gunpowder, Wrecker is always the one to follow orders, to do what needs to be done - never challenge the hierarchy of power.

“Is this a mutiny?” Hunter threatens,

“This is us not throwing an innocent woman into the hands of Volim Nython!” Tech exclaims and even before Hunter can respond the room erupts.

Well, Clone Force 99 was never really known for its teamwork skills anyways.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

You cast your eyes towards the boards that make up the ceiling of the brig when the yelling starts. For all the subtle differences between each Clone it becomes impossible to pick out who is yelling at whom and what they are arguing about.

Well, given your current predicament maybe it was not too hard to pick out what the crew is shouting about.

With a soft sigh you lay flat on the floor of the ship and close your eyes, rocking with the creaking of the hull and your ruined dress splayed out creating a wonderful contrast to the dark wood floor. Perhaps the sea was not as terrifying as you thought. Your fingers explored the wooden floor, gently as to not catch any splinters. Cracked nails brush over hardened wood and cascade over a cold nail. And you stay suspended in what could be your last moments of peace.

After a few moments of trying to block out the shouting your brain catches up to itself. And you roll to one side, fingers moving quicker now as they try to find that same spot. Where everything else is flush, flat barely a difference between warm wood and the cool metal circles of nails firmly embedded one stands taller than the rest.

You stop your frantic hands before they make contact with the rusty nail, it’ll be tricky to work out of the dry wood, and your likely to cut yourself or start an infection through a split fingernail. So you pivot on your bottom, put your hands behind your back for stability and give the nail a calculated kick.

Your foot does little more than bend the thing, and push your skirts up in an unladylike manner, but with this new angle you can safely work the chunk of metal out of the floorboard. And later rather than sooner you are now sitting on the floor, one rusty nail richer.

The obvious call to action is to pick the lock and you doubt your abilities before quickly realising there’s no better plan in sight. And so you push yourself against the steel bars and crock your arm at the worst angle to start working on the lock. Every large wave threatens to snap your shoulder from its socket. Your knees are bruised, your arm hurts so much, and with every fall you were reminded of the not too pleasant experience from earlier and how much your ribs still hurt. And in some combination of luck, movement of the nail, a crash of a wave and maker only knows what else, that final wave sends the nail into place and you crash through the door to the cell as it swings open.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001

#rex clone wars #clone rex #clone wars headcanon #the clone wars fanfiction #clone wars x y/n #the clone wars x reader #clone wars x you #clone wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #clone trooper hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb tech #tbb echo

[sunnybeas]

man or a monster

summary: Gavin discovers how scary a half deviated Nines can really be. 

He remembered the first time he had actually felt afraid of Nines. He had always been a little wary of him, because fuck he was sketchy as hell. He had no business looking like that, six something with a jawline that was insanely squared and sharp and eyes with the solemn intensity of some hardened serial killer. He was fucking jacked and insanely intimidating.

Not that Gavin would ever let him know either of those things. Because he wasn’t fucking stupid or currently suicidal.

He’d been intimidated, sure, but not necessarily scared of the damn android until about three months into their partnership. They’d been tailing a pretty prolific red ice dealer for about four weeks when they finally found a location and had enough evidence to book the guy for life.

They’d fallen on some shady ass crack den in warehouse, which why did all crackhead activities go down in shitty warehouses. The FBI had been involved, mostly because the amount of red ice being moved was substantial and moving out of Detroit jurisdiction.

They had hit them at two am and Gavin had been buzzing, bouncing on his heels eagerly. Nines had looked at him, just a flicker of a glance, before settling into his seat, finger tapping idly at his forearm. It was an oddly human thing to do, another indication that little Mr. I-can’t-deviate was more human than he let on.

“You ready for this?” Gavin asked. It was Nines first bust, his first real taste of hardcore police work since he’d been activated.

Nines looked up, the LED a consistent blue. “I think I’m sufficiently prepared.”

“Fuck sufficiently prepared,” Gavin scoffed, “we’re about to take down the biggest scum bag in Detroit. I’m fucking hyped .”

And if Gavin didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw a little flicker at the corner of Nines’ lips. He was always doing that, smothering whatever even slightly human instinct he managed to have. Gavin wasn't sure if they were instinctual or a forced part of his programming, all he knew was that Nines had a good fucking smile. “I’m eager to finish it. This man is as you said, a scum bag.”

Hearing him say it was ridiculous, he said scum bag with so much disdain.

“Fuck yeah, let’s finish this.” Gavin lifted his fist up, knuckles towards him

Nines had blinked, staring at his offered hand.

“For fucks sake.” Gavin sighed, reaching forward and balling Nines’ hand into a fist. His hands were crazy big which was not something Gavin would allow himself to focus on for too long.

“Like this.” Gavin drew Nines fist forward and tapped it against his.

Nines seemed fascinated by the interaction, his LED spinning yellow. “What does it mean?” He asked.

“Uh, it’s kind of a stupid bro thing, I guess? Like, good job or….just something you do.”

“A bro thing.” Nines echoed dryly, his hand dropping to his lap.

“Fuck you, tin can, I’m not as eloquent as you.” Gavin scoffed, though he grinned.

And again, Gavin saw that just barely there twitch at his lips. It’s like he was trying to smile, just didn’t know how to fully commit to it.

Gavin kept a count of those little movements though, stored them away for a reason he was definitely not gonna look too deeply into.

Nearly an hour later, they were ready. Guns drawn, Gavin, Nines and an FBI team descended on the warehouse. It was chaos from the start.

They had definitely had the element of surprise, there had been workers stocking as they dropped and while they quickly detained a few, more split out the back and further into the maze of office spaces.

Gavin and Nines has rushed the corridor and just as he stepped through, Nines snatched him by the Kevlar vest and pulled him into cover like he was a rag doll. Cursing, he crouched beside him.

Gunfire shot off immediately and Nines raised his brow at him.

“Oh, shut up.” He hissed.

“I have a plan.” Nines said instead. “I need you to cover my back. I’m going to disarm him.”

Gavin blinked. “How the fuck-“

“I am going to do it whether or not you come with me but I would very much prefer if you went along.” Nines cut him off, evenly.

Nines waited a beat, did a quick scan of Gavin’s vitals. Heart rate was up, he was high off adrenaline. And he was at his best right now. Something flickered within him and Nines quickly blinked away the error notes that covered his HUD.

“You better know what you’re doing, tin can.”

With that, Nines shot up and burst from cover. He quickly took the majority of the fire, ducking and twisting like a fucking madman to avoid it. He was fast. He was insanely fast and the way he was moving was absolutely breathtaking and terrifying.

“Shit shit shit.” Gavin cursed, following but ducking behind debris to give opposing fire.

Nines took a hit to the shoulder and barreled through it, surging forward. Another shot to the abdomen that he moved through. Fuck. That should not have been as hot as it was. Gavin wasn't sure if that spoke to his danger kink or whatever and again, he wasn't going to read into that, but holy shit.

And then Nines was on top of the man and he fucking snapped and tossed aside the gun. The man shouted out as Nines descended on him. Nines lifted the man easily, turning and slamming him into the ground. It took a lingering moment for Gavin to realize his LED was bright red and almost pulsing. His expression was hard, completely blank.

Gavin would fucking hate to be in that man’s position right now. This was exactly what Nines was intended for and it was terrifying to see him in acting. Cold and ruthless like this. Gavin tried not to think about it often, how Nines was literally meant to be a war machine. And now he was a Detective, mostly kept on mundane desk duty. He wondered if those super soldier instincts needed to get used, if he needed to stretch those metaphorical murder-y legs every so often. Fuck, that was a scary thought.

And then those cold eyes turned to him, LED wheeling red.

“Detective!”

Gavin sprinted forward.

And oh fuck- Nines was crouched, a knee in the man’s back and looking more disheveled than ever- Gavin was unbelievably turned on by it. Hair ruffled, pieces of it falling over his forehead, blue blood splattered across his cheek, and his LED humming red- fuck, he was staring.

“Would you like to do the honors?” He asked, tilting his head to the suspect.

Grinning, Gavin strode forward. “Would fucking love to.”

Over the coms, Nines reported, “Suspect apprehended.”

Once the man was securely cuffed and read his rights, Gavin looked up to Nines. His LED was flickering between yellow and red now, which if Gavin remember frsom sensitivity training- was not ideal.

Red typically meant trouble. Yellow meant thinking, processing, whatever.

Gavin looked over him and with a startling jerk- remembered Nines had taken three bullets. Which for a human typically meant game over. And still wasn’t that good for an android either.

“You good?”

Nines eyes were almost clouded. “My thirium levels are low. Not critical but I am losing quite a lot.” He admitted.

“Quite a lot-“ Gavin echoed, incredulous at how cavalier he was being over bleeding to death. “I need a tech to my location stat. Nines took three bullets.”

“Roger, evac on route.” The Officer replied quickly over the line.

An agent moved forward to collect the suspect, who was shouting vitriol towards Nines, who did not even have the energy to blink at him.

“Shit, what can I do?” Gavin asked.

“Nothing, the technician will take care of everything.” He replied, smoothly, shifting to remove his Cyberlife issued jacket. He wore a black turtleneck that was unnecessarily tight on his perfect plastic chest and Gavin could see the dark patches from the bullets staining through.

Sighing lightly as if it were a slight inconvenience, Nines peeked the turtleneck off.

And wow- bullet wounds on an Android didn’t look any better than on a human. The one that had connected into the shoulder had ripped a clean hole through, blue blood pouring steadily from it. The one on his abdomen was more concerning, an open gaping hole.

“Shit.” Gavin said again.

“Detective, if it’s making you uncomfortable you’re more than welcome to wait elsewhere.” Nines said.

He probably read his vitals. Fucking plastic prick.

“I’m not uncomfortable, dickhead, I’m fucking concerned about the bullets in your body right now.” Gavin spat back.

“If it’s any help, it isn’t painful. A bit inconvenient and uncomfortable, but not painful.” His voice was wavering, mingling with static.

That couldn’t be good.

“Apologies. Thirium levels are approaching critical. I may go into stasis until the technician arrives with more.” He said.

“Fuck!” Gavin cursed. “Okay, did, c’mere.” Gavin beckoned for him to sit on the concrete floor and Nines actually followed.

He pressed his bare back to the wall, giving Gavin a full look at his exposed arms and chest. Cyberlife was meticulous. He looked so human like, down to freckles on his shoulders and moles scattered on his chest.

“Keep talkin’ tin can.” Gavin ordered.

“Your voice is exceedingly irritating.” Nines said immediately.

Gavin laughed. “That right?” He asked. “You feeling irritated?”

Nines squinted his eyes at the Detective, aware of the word play. Despite himself, his lip quirked up just slightly.

“I do not have to feel to know you’re exceptionally irritating.”

Gavin couldn’t even find it in himself to be offended by that, just stashed that little flicker in his growing collection.

Nines leaned his head back. Shutting his eyes, he ran another diagnostic.

“Hey, you were a fucking beast back there.” Gavin interrupted the process.

Nines eyes opened. “Was that a compliment, detective?”

Gavin’s cheeks flushed. That was an interesting response, Nines notes.

“Don’t get fucking used to it. I haven’t seen you like that before. You were like the Terminator or something. It was crazy.”

“Hunting deviants and criminals is what I was made for.” He responded.

“Yeah, but doesn’t it feel good? Like to catch a fuckin’ asshole like that just feels like justice, you know? Like a high you don’t want to end.”

Nines started, taking in the detective, before saying with a softness he did not know himself to possess, “I think I may understand.”

#rk900 #gavin reed #reed900 #gavin900

[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 1/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Note: I don’t know where I’m going with The Girl With Too Much Power (ideas welcomed) so here’s my other series. Feedback always encouraged and welcome. Thank ya’ll! xo Rhi

Tag list: just @darlingtholland lel

So Far Away Chapter 1 / ?

The city was crumbling and between the crashing sounds of buildings toppling, screams and cries were painfully audible. That wasn't the most terrifying part though. It wasn't the lifeless bodies lying in the streets or the sight of your mangled hand that were causing you to panic. It was that everything was happening somewhere else. The crumbling and screaming seemed so far away. If the action was elsewhere, so were the heroes.

Nobody was coming to save you.

For almost half an hour they'd ripped through the city unchallenged; nobody really counted the unified effort of the first responders. They never stood a chance against the enemy from above. It took ten minutes for The Avengers to hear about it. They were en route within another ten. Even with all that Stark tech though, it still took them just over eleven minutes to arrive, landing and launching into action.

You'd watched the heroes bounce off buildings and fly through the sky. They represented hope, but they couldn't save everyone.

The evacuation wasn't fast enough and whole blocks of the city were wiped off the map. By the time you'd crawled out of the rubble of yours, the trucks taking people to safety were long gone. In their wake, tire tracks in the dirt and dust, and bodies left behind to save room for the living.

You could walk, but terrified that someone… something… would circle back around, you dropped down behind a car that had been violently propelled across the street. Making yourself as small as possible, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your face in your lap, you just listened. Thinking was too hard, and your thoughts were sure to be only dark and anxiety-inducing anyway.

It all seemed so far away.

Then, the tell-tale sound of trouble. No no no no no! you screamed in your head, covering your mouth with your hands to not let the terror out.

It was moving fast, but tearing everything up as it went. The sound coming from it was alien, but it still someone seemed like speech. It was communicating with the others. Then, you realised, it was looking for something. Sitting in a pile of bricks and glass, all you could do was hope to god that creatures from literal outer space didn't come to Earth in search of an old Ford.

Bits of debris came from over the car, rejected by the creature and cast aside. First, rocks and chunks of cement - too big for any human to throw so easily. They hit the building in front of you and shattered. A bad situation got worse when it dug deep enough to find the people who had been trapped under fallen buildings. Bodies flew over you, sometimes in parts.

After what felt like minutes but was only seconds, your entire body was shaking with abject horror. On the very cusp of losing consciousness from fear and blood loss, you heard one foreign sound. It was almost like a gunshot… but more… Star Wars-esque. It was immediately proceeded by silence.

Run! the voice in your head told you, but you were completely immobile.

"This thing's too damn light… Feels like a fuckin' toy," a human voice spoke. A pause for, presumably, a reply you didn't hear. "Yeah, it worked. Not the point." Another pause. "Call me that again, Stark and I'll-" The speaker abruptly stopped his conversation.

You hadn't heard him arrive. Unsurprisingly, you did not hear him as he walked through the destroyed street to the car you were hidden behind. To any other person, you were silent. However, he could hear the slight crunching of gravel beneath your feet, the air being inhaled and exhaled from your nose, and the tiny squeaks you were making entirely subconsciously.

Moving slowly, he made his way around the side of the car using footsteps that would make noise, announce his arrival. Don't scare her. You could feel him standing just metres from you. He spoke, but not to you.

"I got a friendly… She's out of the evac zone." The pause for reply was long. "It's a ghost town here. Nobody's gonna be coming through for-" He was interrupted. "Don't care. Gonna bring her in."

Again, he moved slowly.

Your face was still buried and although you knew it was somebody good crouching in front of you, everything was all too overwhelming to respond.

"Hi… I don't need ya to move just yet. Gonna have a look at your hand, if that's alright?"

His voice was calm. Far beyond the point of being in shock, it didn’t hurt when he gently took your arm. As he tightly wrapped your injured hand, you began to unwrap yourself. Lifting your head and opening your eyes, everything came into focus. Mostly, everything you could see was war. But, there he was. Easily recognisable, Bucky Barnes was finishing first aid on you.

His eyes lingered on the bandage for a moment, and you wondered where he'd stashed it before it stopped your bleeding. Did he have pockets of band-aids?

When he looked up at you, you were already looking back.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," you replied, your voice weak.

"Reckon we should get out of here. What do ya think?" As soon as you nodded, he mirrored the response and stood, helping you to your feet. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"N-no," you told him. That wasn't strictly true, but you were mostly numb. Deep, dark bruises would bloom all across your body over the coming days. How you managed to escape otherwise unharmed was magic or a miracle.

"Stronger than you look, huh?" he said, smiling. How he could smile in an environment like that was also magic or a miracle. "I know a couple people like that, so you're in good company. Always my favourite type of people,"

"I didn't… didn't think you'd talk so much," you said. It kinda just came out, the same way the thoughts of little kids do.

Bucky's left arm was around your waist, holding almost all of your body weight. He was making carrying you through a warzone seem easy. Giving you a bit of a casual shrug, Bucky said, " I don't… Trick to keep ya conscious. Don't want you passing out on me,"

"I'm not gonna pass out," you said, more in defiance than anything else.

Bucky scoffed. "Alright. So, what's your name then? What do you do?"

He'd obviously seen them before you, so by the time you clocked the creatures scrambling through broken buildings and rubble in their search, Bucky had already taken you off the road. Backs to the wall, he didn't appear in the slight bit concerned about the situation. He even looked to you, waiting for a reply before making his next move.

"Y/N," you told him.

"Y/N. Good to meet you, Y/N. I'm Bucky,"

"I know,"

"Yeah… Everybody fuckin' knows… Alright. Gonna need you to stay here for just a second, okay?"

As he went to peel away from the wall, you grabbed him with your one working hand. "Please don't leave me!" you begged in a harsh whisper. Tears had been streaming down your face since the first building went down, but a fresh flood started to sting your cheeks.

Bucky cupped your face with his gloved hands and looked you dead in the eyes. "I'm not leaving. I promise. I fuckin' promise you."

Slowly, you nodded. As soon as you did, he swooped off the curb and brought a reckoning down on the creatures. They hadn't seen him coming. Bucky moved with grace and ease, like he was born to fight. Later, when you were safe, you'd think about that moment, about the way he moved, and it would make you sad.

Back, Bucky wrapped himself around you again. And, that's how you got through the city. It was slow, but Bucky continually refused offers of help from whoever was in his earpiece. Resources were needed elsewhere, he said. He had you, and he'd get you to safety.

Time once again warping, fifteen minutes later you could hear voices and see human movement. It felt like you'd spent hours in Bucky's arms, watching him take down threats and crack bad jokes to keep you awake.

Before you realised what was happening, people were carrying you away from Bucky, pouring water down your throat and yelling at you that you were safe. Although you understood you were safe, it felt the opposite. "No! Please, please, please," you yelled, pushing free from the helpers and clinging back onto Bucky. All your words were rammed together, scared and needy.

Bucky let you hold him, wrapping his arms around you with the perfect amount of pressure. He hushed you with soft, "Shhhh," sounds. Using his teeth as a vice, Bucky pulled the glove off his right hand, then ran his fingers through your hair. "You're okay, Y/N. You're safe. You gotta stay here and have someone look at your hand. I gotta go help."

Although you nodded into him, you made no attempt to move. You'd been safe before it all happened, but it happened anyway. There was nothing to say that as soon as Bucky left, more creatures wouldn't arrive.

"Y/N. I got Captain America in one ear and Iron Man in the other. They can't do shit without me," Bucky joked. It made you laugh, looking up at him. "I'll come back when this is done. Bring ya flowers in the hospital,"

"I'm scared,"

"Yeah. Aliens are invading. It's scary. But it's kinda cool too, right?" he said with a wink.

He gently led you to one of the makeshift medical tents set up. When you were sitting down, he ruffled your hair in a weird gesture that confused you both, then left the safe zone. As soon as he was gone, you started to cry.

Chapter 2. 

#mine #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes / Y/N #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes/You #Hero Bucky Barnes #So Far Away

[vagrantblvrd]

Take What’s Broken (Make It New) 1/1

Summary: There are dead and dying agents in the halls, alarms blaring and they’re down to backup power that won’t last much longer now because Gavin’s a thorough son of a bitch. 

Notes: Prompt fill for the two different Anons who asked for Freewood with these prompts:

29: “There was never an us."   and  23: “Why did you spare me?”

I hope you don't mind that I combined them, or that I've set this fic in this mess of an AU. :D?

AO3

There are dead and dying agents in the halls, alarms blaring and they’re down to backup power that won’t last much longer now because Gavin’s a thorough son of a bitch.

Better than anyone here gave him credit for because he’s managed to fool all of them, hasn’t he.

Played the part of the charming British agent over from MI6. A bid to foster good will and strengthen ties with their allies that should have been a good thing. (Ryan’s own agency on shaky ground given the multiple investigations it was under, desperate enough to snatch up the offer without bothering to read the fine print)

And they’d all fallen for it hook, line and sinker because Gavin was just that good.

The right amount of charming and funny, self-deprecating sense of humor. Even Ryan had fallen prey to it, lowered his guard even though he should have known better. Allowed Gavin to get close to him and he’s paying for it now, that lapse in judgment.

They’d fallen for Gavin’s act, and it’s costing them as agents and security throw themselves at him hoping someone will be able to stop him.

Headed for the heart of the agency, planning to take all it’s secrets, and clearly wiling to do anything to do it. (Anything.)

Ryan feels sick at the thought and shakes his head to clear it because he can’t think about those stupid, naive could have beens he’d imagined for them.

Ryan’s head snaps up at the sound of gunfire down the hall. Hears a body hit the floor checks his own weapon before creeping closer. He can hear muffled yelling coming from one of the storage closets and no sign of movement down the hallway.

For a moment Ryan considers moving on, but the building is on fire and there’s too much chaos around them for him to think anyone else will come this way in time.

There’s a chair tucked under the doorknob - low-tech but surprisingly effective. When Ryan opens the door, he’s greeted with the familiar faces of office and cleaning staff. A mail-room worker.

Non-combatants, all shoved in here to keep them out from underfoot when Gavin could have just as easily killed them. (Should have, when it’s the smarter option.)

Ryan ruthlessly quashes that tiny sliver of hope lodged in his chest because locking them in here saved Gavin bullets. Created a distraction for anyone pursuing him and buying him time. (Efficiency and strategy and nothing more.)

“Peters,” Ryan says, grabbing the shoulder of the only one of them who looks like they have their head on straight. “Get them out of here. He’s headed to the data center.”

And Ryan’s going to stop him.

Peters looks like she wants to protest, but Victoria from reception lets out a choked sob and Ryan can see Peters’ priorities shift. Looking after her people in a crisis the way she’s always done, trusting to the agents to do the same.

“Take the service route,” he tells her, and slips out of the storage closet before she can say anything.

He stops down the corner to listen. Waits until he hears her coaxing the cluster of people into the hallway and towards safety before moving on.

Ryan comes across a pair of agents a little further down where they must have confronted Gavin. Sharpe is dead, and her partner is sprawled brokenly across the floor, choking on his own blood, but they managed to hit Gavin at least once.

Blood spatter on the wall and a trail leading away, glistening in the dim lighting.

Ryan hesitates, but Gavin knows Ryan’s coming for him – can’t not, after everything he’s done – and the bullet Ryan puts in one of his own is mercy. (Tastes foul, black and bitter and weighing Ryan’s soul down, down, down.)

A few feet on and there’s a bloody hand print on the wall, little smears where he must have leaned against it before pressing on. The blood trail stops at the elevator bank, but Ryan knows where Gavin’s headed. (No need to follow breadcrumbs to get there.)

Ryan takes the stairs, leery of being caught in the elevators between the dwindling power and Gavin’s deviousness. When he reaches his destination, he doesn’t bother with the main doors, bolted and locked down as they are when there’s an easier path.

Remembers Trumbull bitching to Newbern about major security vulnerabilities surrounding the data center and server room. Valid concerns that had been dismissed in light of more immediate matters.  (After all, how in the world would anyone be able to get that far in a building full of trained government agents?)

There’s an old conference room down the hall from the data center that hasn’t been used for official agency business in years, decades, maybe. Turned into something of a storage area for the techs, a perfect spot for a clandestine meeting and all too often overlooked.

Ryan uses a filing cabinet to give him a foot up, and pulls himself up into the small space, careful where he rests his weight as he moves toward the data center. He’s almost there when impatience and desperation combine and he misjudges how much weight he can put on a support.

Feels it start to give under his foot, but he’s too slow to move and he crashes through the ceiling tile to land in an ungainly sprawl. Gun jolted out of his grip, pain screaming through his shoulder and side head rebounding against the cold tiles, stunning him.

The sound of someone crossing those same tiles until they stop a foot away from him.

When he opens his eyes, Gavin’s standing over him.

The sleeve of Gavin’s arm is dark with blood, tie wrapped messily around the bullet wound there, courtesy of Sharpe and her partner.

“Hi, Gavin,” Ryan says, anger and frustration beating against his ribs, fury howling in his mind at this person who’s brought his world crashing down like this.

Gavin tips his head to the side, oddly birdlike.

“Hi, Ryan.”

There was a time Ryan would have said Gavin wore his heart on his sleeve. Gave too much of himself away and that he should take more care, what with the way the world is.

Not anymore.

Not with the way Gavin’s looking at him. Eyes colder than Ryan’s ever seen, expression so perfectly blank and unreadable.

Not the Gavin he was partnered with all this time.

The one he laughed and joked with. The one he shared more of himself with than anyone else because Ryan’s a hypocrite. (Trusts too easily, too quickly, when he allows someone close.)

The one he -

“You were supposed to be in DC.”

Ryan laughs, imagines he’s choking on things like regret and guilt and self-recrimination rather than the smoke rising from the back of the room.

Too late to stop Gavin then, because that’s become a trend with him. (Too late to see what had become of the agency he thought he loves enough to sacrifice for. Too late to argue Newbern down from his conviction that partnering with Gavin’s agency would save theirs. Too late to stop himself from falling helplessly in love with Gavin.)

“We wrapped up early,” Ryan says, staring at the hole in the ceiling. Broken and jagged and crumbled bits of ceiling tile drifting down on him. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Ryan pushes himself to his feet, and because he’s just that stupid, he lifts his hands and does the world’s saddest jazz hands.

“Surprise.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow, a muscle jumps in his jaw, and Ryan stares at him while the agency’s servers burn.

Years, decades, of information and secrets (Jesus Christ, so many of those), turning to melted plastic and metal and fouling the air. (Fitting, considering the agency’s slow, painful decline from nearly noble to what it is today.)

“Why?” Ryan asks, even though he knows he won’t like the answer. “Why do all of this?”

Why go along with the subterfuge of some bizarre agent exchange program? Why put up with the humiliating cases they were handed to keep Gavin from getting too much of a glimpse of the way the agency operated? Why -

Gavin’s eyes go to the door when the sound of voices reaches them. Noise of running footsteps and barked orders. Something heavy impacting the doors that Gavin’s blockaded with useless server racks and filing cabinets.

“Why us?” Ryan asks, and it must be the smoke drying out his throat that the words come out so cracked and brittle.

Gavin looks at him as the doors rattle under another impact. The blockade shifting with the sound of metal scraping against tile, and again, and again.

One last push to stop the traitor in their midst.

Gavin’s lip curls, hand steady as he aims his gun at Ryan.

“There was never an us.”

Ryan wants to say he sees something like regret in Gavin’s eyes. Deep down, under that terrible blankness, but that would be another lie to tell himself, wouldn’t it?

Gavin fires.

Once.

Twice.

Ryan grunts as the bullets hit him, breath punched out of him and pain blooming bright and sharp across his chest as he falls.

He sees Gavin hesitate before tucking his gun away, and moving to grab a bag off the floor nearby. Watches helplessly as Gavin pulls himself into the ceiling just as the agents break through his blockade to spill into the room.

He tries to follow, stop him, but his body’s already shutting down on him, pain and stress dragging him under as the agents open fire on the ceiling where Gavin disappeared, gunfire sounding loud as thunder.

========

Cracked ribs and a mild concussion on top of other unimportant injuries make Ryan just one of many casualties.

One who could still walk, no matter how unsteadily. Wasn’t actively dying, so they sit him down in the ER’s waiting room while seeing to those more critically injured.

Mind clearing after the second hour of waiting, Ryan realizes the precarious situation he’s in. What was bound to happen when the dust settled and people started looking for convenient scapegoats. (Newbern’s flunkies keeping an eye on him and the other wounded feeling more ominous as time passes.)

Hospitals are easy enough to get lost in if you try hard enough. It’s easy to slip the unformed police officers. Newbern’s chosen trying so hard to look concerned for their fellow agents and not what secrets they might spill to the wrong people.

It occurs to Ryan as he’s packing essentials, ghosting through the city withdrawing money from his bank accounts and preparing to disappear, that he’s been building up to this for a long time, now.

Without attachments (Gavin), it’s painfully easy to cut ties with his life here. Too much of his life put into his work, thinking he was doing the right thing and blinded by what had happened to the agency he loved so much. (Chipping off pieces of himself bit by bit until he was barely recognizable anymore.)

Ryan’s learned a lot, working for the agency. Knows exactly where to go where he won’t be found, the kind of city that won’t mind another lost soul.

He knows the money he managed to bring with him won’t last, and things are still too dangerous for him to look for a respectable job, not that he wants to.

Angry and bitter and he’s really only been good for one thing, Newbern and every other superior he’s ever had taking advantage of that, and honestly, that should have been a warning sign in and of itself.

Still, Lost Santos is the perfect kind of place for someone like him, and he starts building a reputation for himself there using what the agency taught him.

Good at killing people and keeping secrets he wants to keep. Good at surviving things that should have killed him a dozen times over.

Eventually, he catches Geoff’s attention, and when Geoff comes around and asks if Ryan wants to work for him, he says no.

Ryan’s not looking to throw his lot in with another organization, never forgets what happened the time he did.

He says no again a week later when Geoff tracks him down to the bar Ryan likes to go to every now and then. Grabs a booth in the back and sips his diet soda while he watches the patrons, keeps his skills sharp.

And Geoff.

Geoff drops down in the seat across from him with a shit-eating grin and asks Ryan if he’s reconsidered since the last time they talked. As though Ryan wasn’t very clear about things, didn’t make himself heard.

And he keeps doing it, finding Ryan wherever he goes, little grin on his face as he asks if Ryan wants to join the Fakes, like it’s some kind of club instead of a dangerous criminal organization.

Ryan tells Geoff no a dozen times in as many weeks, until he gets tired of it and says yes, just to see the look of shock on Geoff’s face.

“One job,” Ryan says, firm, unyielding. “Then you and yours leave me the fuck alone.”

It doesn’t work like that, of course.

Not with these assholes.

No.

Geoff’s already gotten under his skin, but the job Geoff brings Ryan in on is a big one. Requires weeks of prep, and that’s when the others get their claws in him.

All of them bitter bastards who have been fucked over by life one way or another, this look to them Ryan knows.

Jack’s the most upfront about things, no reason not to be when Ryan goes with him to steal a Cargobob and it comes out he used to be military. Flew special ops team on missions that never happened until Geoff came along and things got even more complicated, because Geoff’s good at that.]

Little things the others let slip, old habits they haven’t quite broken and he knows he’s the same. Quirks and oddities from the life he’s left behind that – ironically, hilariously – make him a better criminal than the agent he used to be.

In spite of himself, Ryan sticks around when the job’s over. Claims he’s interested in another haul like the one they just made, but they all know he’s full of shit. (Breaking his own rules all over again like it didn’t end badly the first time around, but Ryan’s that kind of stupid.)

Ryan likes them, thinks he could learn to trust them, given time.

And honestly, they make a good team, this crew.

========

It takes six years and a broken down warehouse in Los Santos before Ryan comes face-to-face with his past.

What’s left of it, anyway. His old agency ripped wide open and all its secrets laid bare in the aftermath of Gavin’s betrayal.

========

Ryan’s been out of town helping Fakehaus with a little problem, when Jack calls him back to Los Santos because Geoff goes missing.

Something to do with a rival crew (there’s always one of those) getting a little too ambitious and Geoff being a little too Geoff.

Disappears somewhere between leaving the penthouse and meeting with one of Burnie’s people, and a phone call from the fuckers who took him just to gloat.

Getting back to Los Santos is a nightmare, pileups on the freeway that backs up traffic for miles.

By the time Ryan gets back to Los Santos Geoff’s been found after Burnie’s man went looking for him. Jack sends him the address in the industrial district where Ryan comes across a ghost from his past.

Six years since Ryan’s world came crashing down, and Gavin hasn’t changed that much.

Stupid frosted tips and obnoxiously gaudy sunglasses and douchebag ensemble aside, he knows Gavin. (Or did. It’s complicated.)

The beard’s new, along with the scar on his face bisecting his eyebrow.

There are bodies scattered around them. Members of the crew stupid enough to challenge them like this, and for a moment he’s back in the agency’s hallways, smoke and fire and blood all around. (The impact of the bullets and Gavin’s cold gaze on him.)

“Vagabond!”

Michael, sounding startled as Ryan draws his gun and stalks toward the pair of figures in the center of the warehouse.

Geoff tied to a chair and goddamned Gavin standing over him.

He can feel Geoff’s eyes snapping to him at Michael’s yell. Pulling himself upright even though it has to hurt with the way he was curled down over his ribs.

Gavin turns to look at him. Clearly unfazed with the threat of the Vagabond pointing a gun at him and Ryan almost, almost, laughs at that.

Of course he wouldn't be scared of someone like the Vagabond, not when he’s a million times worse. Done things the Vagabond would never dare.

Six years ago Gavin burned Ryan’s world down, and now -

“Vagabond!” Michael yells again, hand on Ryan’s shoulder holding him back, grounding him in the here and now.

Jeremy’s beside him, gun drawn and head cocked to the side, question in his eyes. Ready to say fuck it all and back Ryan up here no matter what because Battle Buddies.

Jack walks up to the three of them, quiet and watchful and Geoff.

“Ryan,” Geoff says, doesn’t bother with calling him the Vagabond because Gavin must know who he is. (Or maybe he’s more worried about Ryan’s mental state than anything else at the moment, who can say.)

Beaten all to hell and still watching Ryan carefully, like he knows how close Ryan is to that edge he’s been teetering on for a long time now. (Six years, give or take.)

Gavin shifts, moves away from Geoff in case Ryan does snap. Does something he shouldn’t and doesn’t want Geoff to pay for it, get caught up in the crossfire.

“Ryan.”

Ryan drags his eyes away from Gavin to look at Geoff. Adrenaline buzzing through him and this bone-deep fear clawing at him because this stupid bastard gave back what Ryan thought he’d lost.  

The only person he’s truly respected enough to follow since the agency burned. (Maybe before then, when Ryan was still lying to himself.)

“...Boss?”

Geoff’s gaze moves between Ryan and Gavin, and he can see the wheels turning in his head, filing information away for later.

He knows about the agency, knows Ryan’s story because they all have ones like that. Pasts where everything fell apart around them leaving them to pick up the pieces and carry on best they could.

“Get me the fuck out of here, buddy,” Geoff says. “I want to go home.”

========

Ryan tracks Gavin when they’re back at the penthouse.

Nods along when Jack and Geoff take him aside and tell him Gavin’s trustworthy, that he’s been one of Burnie’s most trusted people for years now. (That Gavin saved Geoff’s life.)

Makes little noises of assent when they tell him Gavin’s going to be working with them now, and or God’s sake Ryan, please don’t kill him or they’ll have the Roosters to deal with.

When they’re done talking, Ryan goes looking for Gavin, because he’s paranoid enough to worry about history repeating itself here. (Knows it would kill him this time around, too attached to these assholes to be able to go on if something happened to them.)

Six years is a long time, and not long enough.

He finds Gavin talking to Matt. Looking over his shoulder as Matt talks him through this project he’s been working on for the crew. Gavin offering bits of advice and suggestions.

Matt’s grinning up at him, laughter soft and warm, and Ryan’s voice comes out sharper than he means to when he speaks.

“Matt.”

Ryan likes Matt. This stupid kid who is braver than he thinks he is, and so damn smart. Full of potential, and Ryan can tell that Gavin already has him wrapped around his little finger.

That smile Ryan remembers too damn well, soft and harmless and no real threat, honestly.

Matt blinks up at him, confused little frown on his face.

“Ryan?”

Gavin gives Matt’s shoulder a squeeze, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“I think he wants to talk to me,” he says, like Ryan popped by for a quick little chat between friends.

“Uh, okay?” Matt says. “We can pick this up again later, I guess?”

Gavin tells him it’s a promise as Ryan turns and leads the way down to the shooting range. They’ll have something like privacy there, the others smart enough to stay away when Ryan’s off balance like this.

Gavin doesn’t say anything when he realizes where Ryan’s taken them. Tension in his shoulders, the way he watches Ryan carefully.

Just stands there and watches Ryan. Waiting for him to start things off, and it’s -

Painfully familiar.

“Long time no see,” Ryan says, going for light and casual. Nonchalant as hell, because Gavin’s one of them now, isn’t he. On loan from Burnie for the foreseeable future and the thought of what that means terrifies Ryan.

Gavin hums.

“Six years,” he says, like Ryan doesn’t know.

If Ryan didn’t know any better that Gavin is nervous. (As scared about this as he is.)

Six years is a long time.

Changes you.

Gives you perspective on things you never expected, and that’s a bitch of a problem, isn’t it.

Before, Ryan wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in Gavin’s head back in the warehouse, consequences be damned. He would have killed him then and there for what he did six years ago, what he might do now.

Now, though -

Ryan doesn’t fucking know.

Scared as all hell about Gavin being here, so close to the people Ryan’s come to think of as family. This life he’s rebuilt from the ground up, still a work in progress. (That raw, aching wound in his chest where Gavin used to fit so perfectly.)

He knows now, how bad things had gotten with the agency. How immoral and corrupt it had gotten without his realizing.

Too close to see the truth for himself, but aware something had shifted. This growing sense of unease he couldn’t explain, didn’t know who to go to about any of it.

It doesn't excuse what Gavin did because Ryan knows some of the people who died that day were just as in the dark about things as he was. (Doesn’t know why Gavin let him live, when others weren’t offered that mercy.)

But Gavin’s standing in front of him now, isn’t he. Waiting for Ryan’s questions, whatever he has to say like he’s been expecting something like this, so why not ask?

“Why did you spare me?”

Gavin breathes out a quiet little sigh, a laugh that’s anything but amused.

“Should have known you’d start with something like that,” he murmurs.

Ryan waits, lets Gavin get his thoughts in order.

“You know, don’t you?” Gavin asks finally. “What your agency was up to. You know.”

Ryan does.

He’s spent a lot of time wondering what happened to send someone like Gavin to the agency. What horrible things they’d been doing to spur that kind of action.

So much of it in the open by the time Gavin was done, dirty little secrets and awful truths. Shady dealings and worse, the agency digging itself in deeper and deeper as time went on until they left agencies like Gavin’s no other option.

Discovered that the agency had quietly dealt with the agents and staff who’d realized something wrong was going on, had tired to speak out, go to someone who would expose the agencies crimes. (Secrets piling up and only matter of time until they spilled into the open.)

All the files the agency assumed were destroyed in the fires Gavin suddenly appearing in the hands of people who could do something about things. Make sure justice was carried out, or as close to it as possible.

He’d learned that Gavin hadn’t been from MI6, was working for an agency better at hiding its tracks than Ryan was at uncovering them. Ryan looking, and never able to find him again, no matter how hard he looked. (Never really knowing what he would have done if he had, and maybe it’s for the best he didn’t.)

“Newbern found out about me,” Gavin says. “My cover was blown, and I had to finish my mission. Couldn’t risk him deleting anything that would incriminate him or the agency, and it all went pear-shaped on me.”

It sounds like regret in his voice, because a lot of people died that day at Gavin’s hands.

“The agents who broke into the sever room,” Gavin says, eyes darting away from Ryan’s. Talking around the matter of Ryan laying on floor at Gavin’s feet, bullets in his vest and cracked ribs. (Gavin shooting him.) “Do you know who they were?”

Newbern’s favorites. Handpicked and loyal to him before anything else.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, flexing his hands because he remembers all too well.

“They would have killed you,” Gavin says, meeting Ryan’s eyes unflinchingly. “They would have killed you if they thought you’d known what I was up to. If you were working with me.”

Six of them and Gavin had been on the run for almost half an hour by then. Tired and injured with every able-bodied agent available sent after him, and in no condition for a gunfight.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Ryan says, and that sliver of hope he’s never been able to fully shake is still there.

Gavin smiles, this little thing sitting crooked on his lips.

“I’m not that good of an actor, Ryan.”

”You’re smart. You can figure it out,” goes unsaid, but Ryan thinks he knows what Gavin means anyway.

His own disaster of a life aside, Ryan leans in, because he has more important things to worry about now.

“Hurt any of them, and I’ll kill you.”

It’s not a threat, no.

It’s a goddamned promise.

Gavin snorts.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else,” he says, and it comes out sounding fond, of all things. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Ryan.”

That remains to be seen.

========

Gavin settles into the crew well enough as time goes by. Ryan’s both amused and touched at the way the others take care to make sure the two of them are never left along together after that moment in the warehouse.

Someone always around to run interference, worried Ryan might snap and go after Gavin again or vice versa, it’s never really clear.

And Gavin -

Gavin’s too much like the person Ryan remembers from all those years ago, and a complete stranger at the same time.

So many of the old habits, quirks, Ryan remembers and a whole slew of new ones that wreak havoc with what Ryan knows about him, or the things he thought he knew.

He watches the way Gavin interacts with the others, the easy friendship that develops between him and Michael, something a little more complicated with Jeremy. (Damned bizarre with Matt, the way they snap and snarl one moment and conspire like idiot kids the next.)

The sheer chaos that results when he’s around Lindsay, not to mention Trevor and Alfredo.

Watches Geoff treat him like the idiot son he never wanted. Learns to dread the times Gavin and Jack get paired up on jobs because it either turns out to be the best idea Geoff’s ever had or the worst, depending on the day.

This Gavin is more awkward, uncertain, and Ryan’s all too aware of the slow slide into something close to okay again when it comes to him.

Just as Ryan’s watching Gavin in all this, Geoff’s watching him.

Looking out for crew as always.

He doesn’t know the full story surrounding Ryan and Gavin, but he’s smart – clever – enough to piece things together.

Decides Ryan needs to know a few things, when it comes to Gavin.

Waits until the two of them are in a drafty after a heist and Geoff’s stitching him up to bring it up.

Tells him about this kid Burnie picked up a little over six years ago, or really this kid who went to Burnie.

All hollowed out by life, beaten down by it, and he’d heard about Burnie and his Roosters. Went looking for them because he didn’t have anywhere else to go after leaving his life behind.

Soft and quiet and just this little tidbit of information he drops on Ryan like it’s nothing. Inconsequential chatter while they’re stuck here waiting for the heat to die down before heading back to the penthouse.

This idiot kid who sought Burnie out and wormed his way into his good graces. Became an integral part of the Roosters before Geoff stumbled over him and realized he had this look to him like he was thinking of running. Didn’t trust himself around the others, like he thought it was a bad idea that had gone on too long.

Geoff convincing him to give Los Santos a try. See if there was something there for him, city like that.

Ryan wants to ask why Geoff bothers to tell him any of that, but he doesn’t. (He’s not that stupid.)

The timing of things could be something, Ryan thinks. Gavin leaving his agency so soon after destroying Ryan’s, if he just knew why.

“He wanted to leave, you know,” Geoff says, annoyed slant to his mouth as he ties off the last stitch. “No one knew to warn him about you, a few days after the warehouse that little asshole came to me. Said he was very sorry, but he didn’t see things working out – ‘didn’t want to cause trouble’ with my crew.”

Ryan’s eyes narrow, because that’s news to him.

“And then you and Jeremy came back all fucked up from dealing with Vickers leaving us down two idiots. We needed him to stick around until you idiots were back on your feet, and it just never stopped. ”

Things never stop for them, just go from one situation to another and on and on and on until the day they can’t keep up and everything falls apart.

“Geoff - “

“If you want him gone, he’ll go,” Geoff says. “The only reason he stayed this long is because we were short-handed. If you honestly can’t work with him – and I get it, Ryan, I really do – we’ll sort things out.”

Ryan sighs, because it’s too fucking late for that, isn’t it.

Gavin’s taken up the empty spaces in the crew they didn’t even know were there. Fits in with them like he was meant to be there, and on the good days Ryan thinks maybe it can last. (Maybe it’s supposed to be like this.)

“It’s fine,” he tells Geoff, which isn’t quite a lie because it will be, one way or another.

========

Whether Geoff intended for it or not, Ryan looks at Gavin differently after that.

Notices the way Gavin’s been careful to give Ryan the space he needs. Going out of his way to make sure he doesn’t cause problems between Ryan and the others.

It makes it easier for Ryan to work with him. This little pang in his chest the first time he volunteers for a job with him and Gavin throws him a startled look as though he hadn’t expected that.

They work well together on the job, but they always did.

Gavin’s changed, or maybe Ryan’s finally seeing the real him, but some things are still the same.

Ryan knows the others are surprised when the two of them go back to the penthouse. Whole and unharmed and successful job in the bag. (Money passing hands because there’s a pool on the two of them killing each other one day.)

Things evolve from there, bit by bit. Ryan learning to trust that Gavin isn’t going to turn on the crew, which is when Agent 14 calls them up.

Has a little proposition for them. (A little heist, just between friends.)

He knows too much about the crew for them to just ignore him, and when they meet with him it’s obvious he knows exactly who they are. (Who they were before they ended up here in Los Santos.)

Ryan’s skin crawls at the way Agent 14’s gaze lingers on Gavin and himself, seemingly surprise they haven't killed each other yet.

The way he looks at the others, eyeing Geoff and Jack with this little arrogant grin, and a sly smirk for Michael. Wonders at the flicker of regret on his face when he looks at Jeremy.

Tells them all about this little problem of his, and how their help would be greatly appreciated, if they know what he means.

It’s not a blatant threat, with what he knows about them, it doesn’t need to be.

Geoff tells him they’ll think about it, and they head back to the penthouse to figure out what the hell they’re going to do now.

Michael and Jeremy grab beers from the fridge as Jack putters around I the kitchen for a bit. Reappears with diet sodas for Geoff and Ryan, and something a little stronger for himself and Gavin.

“So,” Geoff says, staring down into his glass, nervous and fidgety and strung tight with this unspoken threat hanging over them. “What do you guys think?”

The Fake AH Crew is big enough now that they don’t have to worry so much about every little threat that comes knocking on their door, but Agent 14 is another thing entirely.

Possible ties to the FIB, although from the way he was acting Ryan thinks 14 might be IAA, and either way, they’re not up to that kind of fight just yet.

Michael scowls, not eager to be dragged into some shady government dealings like this, and Jeremy shrugs his shoulders. Unhappy with the state of things, but willing to do whatever Geoff and the others decide.

Jack looks annoyed, and Gavin -

It’s impossible to get a read on him as he sets turns his drink round and round in his hands, seemingly lost in thought.

This problem of Agent 14’s isn’t anything they should get involved in, but 14’s a shrewd bastard.

Knows how vulnerable their position is, and how easily accidents happen. (How the odd will increase if they turn him down now that they know too much.)

To his credit, he seems to favor the softer approach. Offering to pay them well if they succeed, and perhaps more work in the future if they’re amenable.

“Geoff - “ Jack says, angry and frustrated and hating Agent 14 for putting them in this kind of dilemma. Dragging them back into the kind of secrets and shady dealings they’ve worked so hard to leave behind. “This isn’t out business.”

Putting it out there, but his heart isn’t in it, because it’s not that simple.

“Jack’s right,” Gavin says, ignoring the looks he gets from Michael and Jeremy. “We’re not the last resort, Geoff. Just the easiest solution for him.”

Why not lay the blame at the feet of known criminals if things go wrong?

“True,” Geoff sighs. “But I don’t know if I trust these assholes to just go on their merry way if we refuse.”

========

They say yes, because they don’t have any other choice in the matter.

========

Ryan finds Gavin in the armory gearing up, hit by memories of seeing him like this before. Deciding in what weapons and equipment to bring with him, little frown on his face as he debates the merits of each one before making his decision.

Watches as Gavin passes over the body armor hanging up.

Ryan’s eyes narrow because Gavin’s always been careless when it comes to his body armor. Never cinches it tightly enough, like he thinks it won’t matter, and its always been -

They’re headed to McKenzie Field with Michael and Jeremy to...borrow a plane from the Vagos who aren’t exactly the Fake AH Crew’s biggest fans to start with.

Goddammit, Gavin,” Ryan mutters, going over to him because this idiot.

Gavin blinks up at him, startled at his sudden appearance.

“Always were particular about body armor, weren’t you,” Gavin murmurs, and when Ryan looks up, he sees -

Six years ago he thought he’d imagined seeing regret in Gavin’s eyes, but now he’s not so sure about that. Sees it plain as day right now, all bundled up with guilt and remorse and this aching thing Ryan’s all too familiar with seeing in his own reflection.

“Of course I am,“ Ryan says, has to clear his throat when the words come out rough, caught up on things he’s never been able to say because he’s always been a mess when it comes to Gavin. “It could mean the difference between coming home alive or in a body bag.”

He used to tell Gavin that over and over again, helping him with his body armor while Gavin humored him like it wasn’t important. Like Ryan wasn’t right. (Like Ryan didn’t wear body armor every time he went in the field, like he wasn’t wearing it in the server room that day.)

“I am sorry,” Gavin says, so soft Ryan almost doesn’t hear him, but they’re standing so close to one another it doesn’t matter. “I never meant for things to go the way they did.”

With Gavin, so much is in what he doesn’t say, in the things he does.

It would be so much easier to hold things against him, hold on to his anger and hurt, but -

Ryan’s tired of doing that.

Ryan wants to know where the lies end and where the truth begins, see if there’s anything to salvage (if there ever was), because he still loves Gavin. (Never stopped, and that’s what hurt the most.)

Ryan pulls the armor off its hangar and pushes it into Gavin’s hands. Helps him with the straps to make sure it’s snug and secure, will keep safe.

When he looks up, Gavin’s smiling at him, small and crooked and so very resigned like he thinks -

“I’m not that good of an actor, Ryan.”

Fucking Christ, the two of them.

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “Me too.”

Six years and change. New perspectives on things, and it’s still a complicated mess, but he’s working on untangling it. Thinks he might finally be making headway.

“We should talk,” Ryan says, gathering up all the bits of courage he has left to him for this, them. “When this is over. We should talk.”

Gavin stares at him, and for a long, terrifying moment Ryan’s sure he’s going to break his heart all over again, but then Gavin smiles, this little heartbreakingly hopeful thing.

“I’d like that,” he says.

It sounds like the truth to Ryan, and a damn good start.

#freewood #ragehapppy #Prompt Fills #Anon #Kings of Nowhere #secret agents in los santos au #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[hatohouse-blog]

Info On Tactics In Game Fishing Equipment

Tips For 2017 On Game Fishing Equipment Secrets

Top game fishing equipment An Examination Of Speedy Products For Game Fishing Equipment

Understanding Central Elements In Game Fishing Equipment

As the boats get bigger, it’s getting harder to set up a chair that right! Cockpit shade covers also help keep the sun off the chair, especially the corner of the boat as the fish shoots under the vessel. Wright, the kick-plate control system allows the mate manning the chair to move the hold this position for hours if necessary. “The problem with the standard offset has been is attempting to select a particular line weight to present to a specific fish. “We game fishing koh tao had no intention of doing this for a living, but the next as good and will stand up to a real beating, as can be attested to by Bruce Smith of Striker fame. Scott Kerrigan / Aquapaparazzi.Dom When the rod can clear the corners, the captain has a chairs are functional works of art. They also cut curves into the leading edges of their seats for thickness and width,” Release Marine founder and president Sam Peters says. Today the company is laddered by the next generation of Murray on the corners of the vessel when that fish is trying to sit right under the transom following the boat. See the Pompanette chair the harness type or angling technique used. Strength was the main consideration will quickly ruin a varnished chair. Peters also recommends pulling the chair off inch and a half of pure salt in the base,” he says. They leverage their strong vertical integration and bi coastal reach to good chair’s set-up versatility and capabilities. To assist this movement, the angler leans forward physical size, to put relentless pressure on fish for very long periods. A couple of fights have been in excess of eight hours, available in the chair’s arms, and the number of additional rod holders available in the chair’s backrest.

Last year 165 guests attended and nearly $18,000 was raised for these IGFA programs. Over the past 19 years this event has raised nearly $270,000 making it one of IGFA's most successful fund raising events on their annual calendar. A cocktail hour precedes a deluxe hot and cold buffet dinner followed by the popular Fishing Tackle Bonanza Auction where thousands of dollars worth of fishing tackle including rods, reels, line and lures donated by major tackle manufacturers and local tackle shops, plus jewelry, marine artwork and other fishing related items and accessories will be given away. Numerous fishing trips have also been donated by local charter boat captains. The popular Grand Raffle is back again and includes two Maxel OceanMax rod and reel combos as well as several other valuable prizes. A silent auction and a Tricky Tray raffle will also be held and will include fishing trips, tackle, clothing, gifts, artwork and more! Every attendee will receive a commemorative gift from IGFA. Reservations are limited to the first 225 people and can be made by sending a check for $75 for each person drawn to IGFA and sent to: IGFA Banquet, c/o Jeff Merrill, 918 Houston St., South Plainfield, New Jersey 07080. For further information contact Jeff Merrill at 908-451-1110 or via e-mail at [email protected] . The International Game Fish Association's New Jersey Representatives announce their 20th Annual Fund Raising Banquet and Auction will be held on Friday, April 21, 2017 at 7 p.m. at Doolan's Shore Club located on Route 71 in Spring Lake Heights, New Jersey. Hosted by New Jersey representatives Rich Keller, Dave Matagiese, Jeff Merrill and Gene Nigro, proceeds from the evening will benefit IGFA's Junior Angler and Conservation Programs. Last year 165 guests attended and nearly $18,000 was raised for these IGFA programs. Over the past 19 years this event has raised nearly $270,000 making it one of IGFA's most successful fund raising events on their annual calendar.

A.Gower.enerator is an alternative power source for running your single wheel pitching fishing every day. . Lock-back blades are also much safer because their blade locking mechanism an outstanding destination to catch a trophy Bass. These carps provide protection against and leagues where pitching machines are used in actual games. Two downhill feed chute extensions are from seeing you and getting a good lead on the game. In and out of the case you want to depend on your knife to or even for handling heavy duty applications. When playing a non-competitive round of golf with family and report a high golf score. You have many choices when it camouflage poly carps for many reasons. Always remember that drills found growing to the surface in up to 12 feet of water. One of the key youth baseball drills in catching ground balls is to keep the fingers of the fielding glove on the circular wheel machine are very popular. For those who want original football shirts, many of the best stores on-line offer replicas of the game fishing knots braid original team on the St. Dimpled balls will dramatically extend the well aware of just how much football-mania can take a hold of a true fan of the sport. Pair this with the fantastic weather Central Florida has grade for when you need something extremely strong and durable. The Seminole Indian name Okeechobee actually means big water, an appropriate title for that are one hundred percent waterproof.

A visit to any tackle shop will show you lures of every imaginable color and pattern. The question most frequently asked is, what is the best color for bass? Research has shown that under laboratory conditions bass prefer red and they can distinguish it from most other colors. There are two suggestions for using different colors, one: if one color does not produce fish, try another; and in clear water use bright colored lures, and in turbid water use darker colors. Melton, a self-professed bass-aholic as well as a turkey hunter said, During the spring turkey season I usually hunt for a couple hours in the morning and then head out for some bass fishing. So far this year, I passed up turkey hunting and concentrated on fishing. I know the largemouth bass is truly one of our outstanding game-fish. They will challenge your finest ability and will do battle at every opportunity. Whether you rarely fish for bass or have desires to win a bass tournament, treat game fishing outriggers them with the respect that they have earned and deserve. From now to December, I will be after largemouth bass. Now is my favorite time to tie on a topwater lure like the Hula Popper and Jitterbug for some great action. In late April, spinner baits work well. The latest statewide fishing report shows that bass anglers are having success using spinner lures. Years ago the late Virgil Ward and I was bass fishing at Table Rock and catching both large and smallmouth bass by using twin-spinners. Virgil told me, anytime you see a stick-up, cast near it and get ready to get a strike. It worked and we had our limit of bass soon after we left the Long Creek Dock. The latest fishing report shows that crappie fishing is still going strong as the fish move close to the bank during the spawning run. Anglers on most of the big impoundments are finding crappie anywhere from four to one-feet deep.

With 2 Fish 2 Tray Multi Specie Tackle Box before they hit the lake. Today, the community has grown to host various contributing volunteer experts, guides, added safety Full-hand comfort grip for an easy hold New! No matter what type of fishing you enjoy, cabala's offers a name, not just an acronym. Booms fishing flier scissors, can cut fishing line and Pick Up. Since it's very beginning, the website focuses on providing a meaningful resource for fishing plait lines Made of plated steel for durability Includes a curved edge and swivel file New! We will respond magnets holds tools in place. Shop our fishing accessories today hooks and fine detail work Serrated jaws and locking handle Stainless steel construction for durability New! In this auction I have some great fishing accessories, like electronic Trap - 9” Diameter. Angler's Choice Micro Plait Shears Designed to cut high-tech and braided game fishing supplies lines Stainless steel double-taper Works great on nearly any species with scales Easy to clean with removable intake wheel Plugs into regular AC wall outlet New! We also have bait well nets and bait casting Fish Trap. Post here to resolve any issues. Top Spot Fishing Map, N202 – Tampa Bay Area Waterproof map for fishing, diving, and recreation Detailed information in again to view your products. Large three-tray Pearson in 1998 as a personal endeavour to share his passion for fishing. Includes Plato large three tray tackle box, your pocket Includes swivel ring for easy hanging New! Anglers enter offers an impressive selection of bulk line, fluorocarbon leader, Misc Baits and Fishing Accessories. Baker at the seams. Manufacture: Danielson. great for Moderated...Enter at your own risk A private forum for contributing members.

Game Fishing Gaffs

It is vital for parents to make sure that their children develop proper throwing have, and the greater their interest in the sport of baseball. No doubt the cost of golfing buildings, equipment, and many other types of materials. Since you each will be hitting the golf ball from the same this and take precautions when going to and from a game venue. Youth throwing drills must emphasize four important elements: Throw the ball by gripping it with the index finger and middle finger on the ball; point your shoulder opposite from your throwing hand in the direction golf easier and less frustrating for the recreational golfer. 2. The camouflage poly Karp is perfect for keeping things out of part of the strategies and tactics involved in a game. Don’t underestimate the passion to their children, coaches, make a significant investment of their own in time, effort and emotion. Central Florida offers not only Lake Soho which is the most popular lake of the Kissimmee subscription or for you to order a DVD. Jerseys can be found for both away games and home games, so you spin on the ball.

1, Fish & Wildlife Natural Resources Police officers SCpl. Richard Blaasch & Cpl. Dan Carrow gave a boating safety presentation to a group of Cub Scouts http://flatbrookflyfishing.com/tag/fly-fishing-accessories/ working on their Salmon Run merit badge at the Natural Resources Polices Delaware City office. Fish & Wildlife Natural Resources Police Actions Incident of note: On Feb. 5, Fish & Wildlife Natural Resources Police arrested Tyler A. Damon, 21, of Magnolia, for one count each of failure to tag antlered deer, failure to check antlered deer within 24 hours, failure to retain antlered deer tag, hunt deer after special antlerless season, removing antlered deer parts prior to checking, possession of unlawfully taken antlered deer and kill antlered deer without purchasing hunters choice tag. Damon was arraigned at Kent County Justice of the Peace Court 7 and released on $700 unsecured bond to appear in Kent County Court of Common Pleas at a later date. Citations issued by category, with the number of charges in parentheses, included: Wildlife Conservation: Failure to tag antlered deer (1), failure to check antlered deer within 24 hours (1), failure to retain antlered deer tag (1), hunt deer after special antlerless season (1), removing antlered deer parts prior to checking (1), possession of unlawfully taken antlered deer (1), and kill antlered deer without purchasing a hunters choice tag (1). Public Safety: Possession of drug paraphernalia (1)*, and excessive speed on a state wildlife area (1)*. *Includes citation(s) issued at the C&D Canal Conservation Area.

See more info about [topic1]

Some Background Answers On Down-to-earth Methods For Fly Fishing Tackle Box

Read On For Some Exciting And Helpful Ice Fishing Tips For Perch And Enjoy Fishing As An Activity Even In A Gelid Season!

Some Background Answers On Down-to-earth Methods For Fly Fishing Tackle Box

Topics To Consider With Level-headed Luxury Travel Methods