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darke15 · 2 years

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Aftermath Single-Shot : La Vie en Rose 🌹

inspired by :

featuring : the 'cast' of The Soldier & The Spy

After Havana, and when building up Operation Aftermath, it quickly became evident, as Olympus began construction, that somebody would have to look after Turner's daughters, Nia and Nea.

Imara, Turner's wife, was still going through college as an Art History Major. She about dropped out to take care of the girls but Turner insisted he would make something work.

On Imara's off days, she'd watch the girls. On Mondays and Wednesdays, Turner's neighbor, Edith Emmerly, would watch them. But that left the girls alone on Friday and Saturday. A system was quickly put into place that Turner, Duke, and Boone would trade off watching the girls each week.

Turner's days went smooth, he's their father he knows what he's doing.

So did Duke's. He's got a way with kids. They just listen to him...and climb on him like a jungle gym but he's cool with it.

But when it was Boone's turn...everyone was a little worried. She'd always come off as a tad bit...crazy and chaotic. Put her in a house with two young girls, who were also known for causing a ruckus, and you had a recipe for disaster.

Throughout the day, both Turner and Duke waited for an SOS call from Boone. Or, at least, a text telling them she'd broken something. But nothing came.

You know that line they always say in movies? "It's quiet...too quiet..." And there's tense music and then things burst into chaos.

That's exactly what went through Turner, Duke, and Imara's heads.

They all rushed back to the house at the same time, expecting to see smoke and flames as they turned down the block. But the street was quiet...

Too quiet.

Imara practically sprinted up the walk to the house as Duke helped Turner out of the car. And, when they entered, things were quiet...

Too quiet.

A single lamp was on in the living room, casting a warm glow through the home. The smell of dinner still hung in the air and newly made art by the girls hung on the fridge. And things were quiet...

But not too quiet.

A soft voice hummed through the air.

'Quand il me prend dans ses bras. Qu'il me parle tout bas. Je vois la vie en rose.'

The three moved through the house at the same time, noting the colorful hues of their daughters' nightlight shimmering under the door.

'Il me dit des mots d'amour. Des mots de tous les jours. Et ça m'fait quelque chose.'

Imara pushed open the door, followed by Turner and Duke, who peeked over her shoulder.

'Il est entré dans mon cœur. Une part de bonheur. Dont je connais la cause.'

A soft chuckle huffed through Duke's nose as he glanced into the room.

'C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie. Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie.'

Boone had Nia in her arms, gently waltzing her around the room, her freshly dyed hair swaying down her back. Nia had her arms clasped around the back of Boone's neck, her face hidden in the crook of her neck.

'Et dès que je l’aperçois. Alors je sens en moi. Mon cœur qui bat'

Nea was sound asleep in her bed, meticulously tucked in with her favorite elephant stuffed animal and sighing softly. Boone caught sight of them standing in the doorway then and she smiled softly, gently rubbing Nia's back and moving to set her down in her bed.

'C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie.'

"Bonne nuit, ma belle rose." She gently tucked her in before slowly backing away, glancing between the girls with a short nod.

'Et dès que je l'aperçois Alors je sens en moi Mon cœur qui bat.'

She finished with a hum as everyone gave her enough space to exit the room and close the door softly. Boone turned to them with a quirked brow, her soft smile turning to her signature Cheshire grin.

"Just like mama used to do to me and the boys," she said, setting her hands on her hips with a wink, "Y'all were worried, weren't you?"

"Just a little," Imara hummed, glancing back into the room before patting Boone's shoulder, "Thank you."

"Dinner's in the fridge," Boone smiled, ruffling Duke's hair as she went by, "I dunno what y'all were worried about though, I had this shit handled."

Duke scoffed, nodding a quiet goodbye to Turner and Imara and following her out the door, "Good work, Boonie. I knew you had it in you."

"You really gotta stop doubting me, Dugan," Boone shook her head, "I know exactly what I'm doing."

Turner and Imara had the rest of the evening to themselves, not even questioning what Boone had done with the girls to tire them out so.

They'd find out the next day, when the girls both fashioned shivs out of crayons, exactly what had gone down and they weren't impressed.

Boone however, cackled like an evil genius. And she is now the girls' favorite. To which she says, "Suck it, Dugan."

+Bonus :

Boone was sent out on her first solo mission with the New Aftermath on a week she was supposed to be babysitting. Although she was supposed to stay off the grid and away from communication devices, Turner called her one night.

"They won't sleep," he said, the exhaustion in his voice evident, "They want 'Aunt Boonie's' song."

Boone chuckled, sitting back in her booth in the cafe she was staking out and nodding to herself, "Put me on speaker, boss."

She had to sing the song three times before they fell asleep and she'd attracted the attention of the entirety of the cafe but she didn't care. Boone smiled to herself before whispering, "Bonne nuit, mes belles roses."

@violetvictoriabarnes , ma belle amie, thanks for being the one that has to hear my random ideas that I come up with throughout the day 🖤

#aftermath single shot #idk what this is #I heard the song and thought...BOONE #oc boone cavanaugh #oc duke dugan #oc turner johnson #battle scarred aftermath #the soldier and the spy #Spotify #duke + boone = dune #dune forever

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darke15 · 3 years

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THE SOLDIER & THE SPY || EP 1 // THE CHESHIRE CAT

WORDS : 2200-ish

SERIES SUMMARY : Before they were Glitch and Libra. Before they were Ghost's right-hand pair. And before they were two of Aftermath's greatest operatives, they were the Soldier and the Spy. And they hated each other.

CHAPTER SUMMARY : Boone has always gotten into trouble. She's always been trouble. In general, she just is trouble.

WARNINGS : Just read Battle : Scarred Aftermath (Bucky Barnes x Reader) and you'll know what you're getting into, or don't and uhhhhhh ... Violence. Profanity. And overall chaos 👍🏻

A/N : Hi! Hello there! Listen, okay, we wanted a Boone and Duke origin story so I made a Boone and Duke origin story. The first four 'episodes' are gonna be a little bit different from my regular style, so hopefully, you guys like it. We'll get back to my regular style as soon as I set the stage for our favorite little shits.

***This is a spin-off mini-series of Battle Scarred : Aftermath I would definitely recommend getting caught up to at least Chapter 45 // WARGAMES before you read it. Also, if you're wondering when this takes place, it's before Chapter 5 // FLASHBACK : AEROCELL

join my taglist

EPISODE 1 // THE CHESHIRE CAT

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Boone Cavanaugh has always had a particular knack for getting into trouble.

When she was young, it was cow tipping with her brothers or hotwiring Sheriff Davis' police cruiser for a night ride. They flashed the lights at every neighbor they passed until they got caught.

And they got caught every time.

It got worse when she was given her first computer by her grandmother when she was eight. And she took to it like a fish to water.

First, it was hacking into her school’s website and changing the principal’s profile picture to that of an otter. Surprisingly, no one noticed for three weeks.

Then, it was getting her brothers out of speeding tickets and changing their grades so they didn't get in trouble at home.

But, as with anything and everything she did, things escalated. Quickly.

Boone effortlessly hacked her way into a billionaire’s bank account. She transferred all the money to a farmer that was on the brink of having his farm auctioned off while simultaneously providing the IRS with evidence of tax fraud committed by said billionaire.

Then she erased her presence from the system, disappearing without a trace.

But she managed to inspire a tirade of hacktivists around the globe, and they followed her lead. They took on sketchy individuals, shady corporations, and corrupt governments while she watched from the sidelines.

She was only 13. And she graduated high school the same year.

Boone instantly realized the power of reach and, as stepped from the sidelines and into the fray time after time again, she made a name for herself as an anonymous, unseen force.

Cheshire.

It was a name that had followed her from her childhood, something her mother had called Boone ever since she read Alice in Wonderland as a bedtime story. Boone’s grandmother argued that she was more of an Alice, with long blonde hair that always fell in perfect curls and the innocence she always held in her features.

But Boone’s mother knew better.

Behind that facade of innocence, there was nothing but a mischievous green-eyed demon child—that she loved dearly—with a grin that rivaled that of the Cheshire Cat.

And her mother knew, if they didn’t nip her mayhem in the bud, it would soon spiral out of control.

The thing is, Boone knew it too.

She got a certain adrenaline rush from playing Robin Hood. And it was one that would get her in more trouble than she could handle. So she stopped, for her mother’s sake.

She put the computer away and threw herself into working on the ranch and her studies.

The instant she graduated high school, she was on to university. MIT to be exact. And she kept herself busy.

Boone joined the fencing club, learned Krav Maga and Bōjutsu, and walked on to the volleyball team; all while being a full-time student with a full-time job and internship.

She worked hard, not allowing herself to get bored or to allow her mind to wander. She stayed on track, working long night shifts and studying on the weekends.

And then she graduated with a doctorate in computer sciences.

She moved to New York City, hoping the hustle and bustle of the big city would stop her mind from wandering too far. She took up a job at Stark Industries and quickly moved up the ladder.

And everything was fine.

So fine...it got boring.

For the first time in years, she was bored. For the first time in years, she permitted herself to dredge the dark corner of cyberspace.

Which was the first, careless step that would ultimately lead to her downfall.

Within seconds of firing up the computer, within only a few sharp keystrokes she found herself a new target. Another shady billionaire funding shady politicians.

And so she set to work.

More keystrokes. More code. And Cheshire was back on the grid.

But, this time, she was being watched.

It wasn’t long after she destroyed the billionaire’s wealth and an entire party of politicians that she got a knock on the door.

You know those old 90s movies where the FBI Agents show up at a house wearing suits, sunglasses, and sensible shoes?

That’s exactly what showed up at her door.

They came to her with a deal. Join the FBI and use her skills for them, or go to prison. Boone chose the former. Obviously. Duh.

In less than a day, she was whisked away to Quantico and underwent all of the FBI’s training. Not just the analyst training, but field training too.

Boone ran whatever missions she needed them to. She tracked mob bosses and drug dealers, sneaking into their ranks and dismantling them from the inside while simultaneously running virtual attacks on their bank accounts and personal computers. She investigated corruption in organizations throughout all fifty states and then…

She got bored. Again.

The criminals she chased started looking the same, acting the same. And she did the same thing every day.

But as soon as an inkling of doing something more crossed her mind, her supervisor had her transferred...to the NSA. Which, somehow, was even worse.

Boone only lasted a couple of months, she got tired of watching everything from a computer screen and being cooped up in an office. She was bored to the point of repeatedly banging her head against her desk.

And then it happened…

She was transferred to the CIA. And everything was fantastic. Really, truly fantastic.

There was excitement!

Adventure!

And manipulating the actual shit outta people!

…Adventure!

It was everything she could have wanted. And, as it turned out, she was really really good at it.

There was something about the way she could shift her body language, something about the way she could paint and mold herself into a new person that made her so well suited for the job she couldn't imagine doing anything else.

The best part was, it never got boring.

There was something new every day.

Rogue soldiers trying to take over a weaponized satellite? Boom. Gone, with a few taps of a keyboard and a malicious grin.

A dictator trying to get reelected for the eleventeenth time in a row? Boom. Dead, poisoned after sharing a glass of wine with an alluring stranger with demon green eyes.

Boone buried Cheshire and adopted new names.

Bardot Calinescu.

A French number that paid homage to her family’s roots. She used it all over Europe and Latin America and she paired it with an impeccable accent and fiery red hair.

Then, there was Brania Chechenev.

A Russian woman with shoulder-length, sleek black hair and high-security access to the Kremlin.

And she was the last ingredient of Boone’s demise.

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Boone walked through the halls of the Kremlin, her military uniform perfectly pressed and her hair perfectly pin-straight. She kept her head high, walking through the building like she owned the place with her package in hand.

A briefcase carefully concealing plans for a nuclear weapon.

She’d already hacked their system, sending a batch of soldiers on a wild goose chase in the opposite direction. She was home free.

At least, that’s what she thought.

"Ehhh...Ev?" She whispered, keeping her Russian accent steady as her green eyes darted back and forth and her grip tightened on the briefcase in her hand, "We've got a problem."

Boone Cavanaugh has always had a particular knack for getting into trouble.

But now, as Russian soldiers filed in from every hall, closing in on her from every direction, she knew she was in big trouble.

“Abort.”

Boone whipped around, sprinting back up a hall and bursting through a set of doors into a stairwell. She hopped the railing, turning midair to catch the bottom rung and swinging herself down to the next landing. Snapping around, she continued down the stairs and back into the basement.

Slamming a door behind her, she stripped off her military jacket and tossed it over her shoulder; revealing the black turtleneck she had on underneath.

But she kept the hat. It was cool.

Boone rushed down another hall, quickening her pace as hurried footsteps overpowered hers and echoed all around her.

“Next left, Cavanaugh. You better hurry. We’ve got soldiers warming the—”

Everett was cut off, a shrill shriek replacing the sound of his voice followed by static. Boone winced, snatching the device from her ear and stuffing it in her pocket.

She turned another corner, ducking out of the way of a sudden, incoming fist. Boone spun, tightening her grip on the briefcase and slamming it against the guard's temple before he had time to think. She took off down another hall as thumping footsteps grew behind her and she took another left.

Sliding into a darkened archival room, she slammed the door behind her and braced her shoulder against it to keep it close. Boone swept her leg behind her, hooking her foot on a chair and popping it toward her.

It screeched across the floor as she dragged it toward her and propped it under the door’s handle just as someone on the other side slammed into it. She shoved herself away as the hinges rattled and yells rattled off orders in the hall. Boone scurried quickly through the room toward a row of electrical panels.

Boone snapped a pocket knife from her pocket, jamming the blade between two panels and prying them loose. She wedged her fingers in between them, ripping them from the wall to reveal a passageway in the decaying bricks. The panels clattered to the floor just as the door behind her was ripped from its hinges and tossed across the room.

A group of guards rammed their way through the doorway with their rifles drawn.

She flinched out of the way as they surged toward her. Dipping out of the way of another fist, she spun to kick away the barrel of a gun. Boone continued her spin, snatching the cap from her head and throwing it like a frisbee at one of the men. She backed away, a snicker huffing through her nose as the hat hit the man square in the nose and knocked him back into his comrades.

Boone grabbed a broom leaning in the corner, spinning it through her hands and jabbing it at one of the last standing guards before throwing it like a javelin at another. She spun back around on her heel, skirting through the panels and into the darkness of the forgotten corridor; narrowly avoiding a flurry of bullets.

Dashing through the dusty passageway, she shied away from spider webs that stretched from wall to wall and twirled around the corner just as another burst of gunfire echoed behind her. Boone eyed the open manhole in the middle of the floor, diving at it and sliding across the floor before sliding in.

She dropped only a few feet before her boot met gravel and she reached back up to put the cover back into place. Boone took off down the abandoned pipe as muffled voices echoed above her and footsteps continued to sprint toward and then past her on the floor above.

A Cheshire smirk curled to her face as she disappeared into the darkness and wound her way through the pipe. A sigh left her throat as her racing heartbeat began to calm and she adjusted her briefcase. Dusting off her shirt, she reached into her pocket to grab her earwig.

“Well, Ev,” she drawled, her Russian accent melting away as she rolled her shoulders and placed the device in her ear, “That coulda gone better.”

Everett didn’t answer as she rounded the corner and cool, gray light began seeping in from the end of the tunnel. Boone relaxed back, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed before whirling around with a growing grin.

“Cavanaugh…” His voice finally came through, laced with a sad edge in the back of his throat.

“Listen,” Boone shrugged, unworried as she reached the end of the tunnel and kicked out the metal grate that was in her way, “It wasn’t as smooth as we thought it was gonna be, but we got the job done.”

“Cavanaugh—”

“I’ve got the plans,” she continued, holding up the briefcase as she stepped out of the pipe and into a low, grassy area covered in trees and snow. Her breath swirled around her as she stepped into a bitter breeze and drizzling rain, “All I need is my EVAC…”

Boone trailed off, freezing in her tracks as rough footsteps crunch all around her. Her jaw clenched as her head snapped in every direction and she spun in circles as soldiers crept in from all sides.

“Boone, I’m sorry.” Everett’s line clicked off and, once again, static replaced his voice.

She forced a scoff, her eyes widening as she looked over the soldiers and she raised her hands slowly, “Aight, boys, take it easy.”

“У тебя на коленях,” one growled, gesturing to the ground with his rifle. On your knees.

“Well.” She tossed the briefcase to the ground and slowly lowered herself until her knees met freezing snow, “Merde.” Shit.

Boone Cavanaugh has always had a particular knack for getting into trouble.

And she always knew she’d get into something she couldn’t get out of.

And at this point, Boone knew, she fucked up.

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