Angie Martinelli

Broadway's Calling ;)

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Frontier Peggy, Steve & Angie (28 August 2016)

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backwardsandinhighheels1945:

a-man-outof-time:

Steve tried to keep his expression impassive, but a frown inevitably darkened his features when Angie differentiated between “sick” and “super,” then deepened when Angie mentioned Strange. To his ears, it sounded like no one had actually shown Angie the written bill – or the letter of resignation that Stephen had sent out weeks ago.

“I can’t get you out of here.  This is so far beyond my jurisdiction.  Unless you want to work for me as one of the Thunderbolts–but even I don’t choose that team.  So.  Can I ask you why, at least?”

He eyed Peggy for a moment, but damn if he could keep anything from her.

“I got a lead on a HYDRA insurgent who used to work in SHIELD. We had teams – the one I coordinated was supposed to track down rogue HYDRA agents and bring them in. So that’s what I did. There wasn’t time to pass the buck and hope Ross mobilized on my word alone.”

He glanced to Angie again, then back to Peggy.

“I knew what I was getting myself into. Don’t think Ross would let me join another team if I begged, and that’s fine.

“So – why are you here?” he asked Peggy, though he then turned to Angie and was careful not to analyze the bruise on Peggy’s neck too closely.

“You’re right, there isn’t anything the government can do for you. But you have to know the bill doesn’t care what makes you superhuman, only that you are. You won’t be exempt from registration if this passes, and you won’t be exempt from arrest if you don’t register. Not that I think you should sign,” he was quick to add, “but you need to know what you’re risking if you don’t.”

He sighed, low and long, then took a seat at the end of the shelf that served as his bed.

“Did Strange not talk to you about this?” he asked Angie. Then, to Peggy, “Did you show her the actual bill?”

“Yes, she’s read it,” Peggy said with no falter at her assertion.  Only once the words were out did she turn to see what Angie might have to say about it.  “You’ve read it, haven’t you?” she enquired, simply to make sure they were on the same page, and to prove to Steve that she knew what she was talking about.  Angie gave a little reaction–barely perceptible, as if she were being intentionally enigmatic (Peggy would have to ask her about that later)–that seemed affirming at its core and Peggy seized it.  “See, she’s read it, and she knows what it entails. 

“I’m not trying to make a case that the bill is perfect.  Certainly, there are flaws with the wording, but many of the assertions are so ludicrous that they will be ironed out–besides,” she continued, “this bill isn’t about Angie.  Can we at least all agree on that?”  Peggy glanced about to the other two, almost pleading with them to see sense.  

“This bill is designed to accommodate super-humans in their desire to be involved in crime and punishment.  Well, some go rogue, some hurt innocent people, some turn into villains themselves.  A registry would solve many of the problems we currently face, from the basic need to know who the government is handling, up to how to handle the situation where someone proves their interests don’t align with public safety.  There are several simple and elegant solutions to the wording of the bill which could make the process more sympathetic to the individual. I recognize this deficiency, but I know it can and will be changed.  Therefore, complying with these measures are safer and more practical than sinking into the ocean to rot.  Nobody knows you’re down here, Steve.  What good did your brave show do, if nobody listens and nobody sees?” 

The harshness of her words was only broken by a slight roughness in her sad and tired voice.  She hadn’t had a break since she’d come home, and now she had to see Steve like this, and Angie threatening to follow suit.  When she looked back at Steve, her eyes were glassy, her shoulders less squared.  Perhaps he saw himself like a chess piece who had made a noble sacrifice.  “Your heart’s in the right place.  And I didn’t come here just to…” make an example of you.  She cleared her throat.  “You…can’t do much here.  And I’m not going to do anything criminal.  I won’t advise anyone do anything criminal.  But, Steve, is there anything within reason you’d like me to do on your behalf once I set foot back on dry land?”  Surely, he deserved that much–and Peggy was almost certain she could deliver publicity or a message, or something of the sort. 

“I mean, I skimmed it,” Angie muttered when Peggy asked.  Again, it wasn’t as if it really had that much to do with her--she was sick.  Illness wasn’t the same as super powers, and signing would be like an admission of the fact.  Signing, in fact, would be a labeling of her illness as super powers, which she didn’t have.  It really, really didn’t have anything to do with her.  

“You’re not listening,” Angie insisted.  “I’m not super.  I’m not trying to dodge some draft or make a political statement--I’m just not super.  

“Don’t you see?” she asked, looking from one to the other.  Both had an agenda, and Angie found she did, in fact, mind the odd intimacy of past affection that they seemed to share.  It showed in they way the two flipped between pushing each other’s buttons and taking their differences seriously.  They’d almost, at times, edged her out of the conversation, and certainly both seemed to think she didn’t understand the issues at hand.  “The bill talks about super humans in terms of weaponry.  It’s obvious what they want--super humans can hurt people, therefore should be tracked so they can be put to work or targeted for extermination.

“But I don’t fit this definition.  I’m not dangerous unless I don’t take my medicine, I’m no more dangerous than a wild animal--and I take responsibility for that.  If I don’t have medicine, I leave town.  It’s as simple as that. And if I’m registered, then what?  There’s nothing anyone can do with me.  It’s like if...” Angie searched for an example, “if...”  There was nothing analogous.  “I’m not dangerous unless you ask me to hurt someone.  Then, things get ugly.”  Then an analogy popped into her head.  “It’s like if everyone I punched got AIDS.  It makes no sense, but it doesn’t put me in a position to champion free rights to heroism, either.  

“Because I’m not a hero.  I’m a--” her voice died in her throat.  For some reason, the word didn’t come.  She looked pleadingly at Peggy not to finish what Angie had tried to say.  It had felt infinitely harder when she had to tell her family, but it had been infinitely more necessary that they know.  This whole mess shouldn’t have happened in the first place.  

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30 Uncommon Character Development Questions ( send me a number )

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What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional.

Angie sleeps sleeps on her side (little spoon, when it’s an option) because she’s starting to develop alignment issues with her back from standing and walking so much at work.  She needs to rest these points.  For the similar reason of blood flow, she always sleeps with her legs extended.  

Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etc.

Angie is scar-free!

Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like?

You bet she does!  She’s got a really classical New York accent.  Many Manhattanites don’t, but she’s never left New York/New Jersey so she’s got some regional affliction.  

Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?

Angie’s the first person to pick up 99% of new slang words, and sometimes people ask her what she’s saying.  Sometimes, she’ll throw an Italian word into an English sentence.  Make no mistake--Angie doesn’t speak Italian.  Growing up, her family used a select few Italian words and Angie doesn’t realize which ones they are unless you point them out to her.  

What are their chief tension areas? 

Navigating a competitive career while handling a newly diagnosed chronic and politicized illness and the strain that’s put on her love life.  

If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?

Friends theme song.  

How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral?

Angie has a positive view of herself, but it can be worn down by life.  She’s eager and enjoys picking up on positive reinforcement from experience and from folks’ support of her.  

Are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts?

Angie is very witty and quick on her feet with a comeback, but she’s slower in her decision making process when it comes to big ticket items.  

Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? 

Angie dreams.  She has more stress dreams than she’d like to let on, but many of them are good.  Especially the one where she chases rabbits.  

Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time.

Angie was cast in the role of Elphaba, and she knew all the songs to Wicked and could sing them perfectly, but didn’t know any of the dialog lines, and she stood in the wings of the stage as her double went on to perform scene after scene for the audience.  Finally, the stage manager kicked her out of the theatre.  She walked along the river, trying to put her things in her bag, trying to put on her gloves and hat, but everything started falling out of place, and all her possessions were one by one blown away while she crossed the bridge.  

If they had a choice, would they prefer a subway or a bus for public transportation?

Subway’s faster, bus goes more places.  It depends.  

What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?

Angie is very casual about her belief in God.  She figures there’s someone up there, but doesn’t go to Church unless Peggy makes it a social event.  She believes in evolution, but she’s not sure, anymore, if it works exactly like how they thought it did.  

Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.

1) Turns into a wolf at the full moon, 2) Sings and performs dramatic monologues even when inappropriate, 3) Doesn’t get scared of improbable threats, 4) Reads more scripts than books, 5) Can recite all the lines of every Shakespeare role she dreams of playing.  

Have they ever been so overwhelmed they had to stop and take a break from something? 

She almost quit acting to pursue a degree in business that she didn’t want.  

Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?

Angie will work with others to solve their problems.  She’s a very loyal friend once she’s decided someone’s worth her trouble.  However, when it comes to her own pursuits, she’s not keen on asking for help--regardless, she does make sure to practice self care.  

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time?

Yeah--she can, for example, wait tables and recite monologues.  

What are their best school subjects? What are their worst? List five of each.

Best; Theatre, English, Art, PE, and Chorus. 

Worst; History, Biology, Chemistry, Algebra, Precalculus

Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?

Angie loves big crowds of people!  

Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?

Angie prefers to blaze her own trails.  She doesn’t care who follows.  

If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?

Angie would fight with  her wits and principles.  She wouldn’t give in, but she wouldn’t make it an all out brawl, if possible.  If not possible, Angie would turn tail and run. 

If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why?

She’ll hold onto this free pass for when she really needs it.  

Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?

1) No more wolfing.  Obviously. 2) Talent acting. 3) Someone important notices that talent.  

Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?

There’s certainly a getting to know you period, but it’s short.  She’ll make up her mind about someone pretty quickly.  

Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?

Angie prefers affection but loves being romanced.  She’s in between, but you’ll win her over with a few really nice dates and a few really chill ones.  

Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?

Yeah, any actress that looks just like her but taller and gets cast more often.  

Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?

She’s been keeping quiet with her girlfriend about some pee stuff she’s not sure she wants to try...and yet...? 

How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?

Angie likes her sleep.  She washes her face and hands, changes into pajamas, brushes her teeth and hair, comes to bed, reads a bit, and when she’s tired, she sleeps.  

If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be?

Thank you for making me possible.  

Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?

Angie is still building her life, and doesn’t plan to stop any time soon.  She’s not really looking at regrets, so much as potential at the moment.  

Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?

Angie prefers company but doesn’t get restless.  

Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?

Okay, if we’re talking to choose ONLY ONE thing, she actually might choose rabbit.  They’re delicious and won’t mess with either digestive system. She sure will miss cheesecake. 

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Frontier Peggy, Steve & Angie (28 August 2016)

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a-man-outof-time:

Steve glanced away from Peggy to Angie, who had stepped back and looked a little blindsided, if he was reading her correctly.

“You were arrested early.”

“Yeah,” he said absently. 

He didn’t recall Peggy ever mentioning that Angie was superhuman or a master martial artist or anything of the sort, but now it seemed pretty clear why she was there, and Steve could feel another barrier shuddering down between them – or within him, at least – as unyielding as the plastic and steel already physically parting them.

“I was short on time and shorter on options,” he added. “You know how it goes. But unless you’re my lawyer” – he nodded at Angie – “I don’t think I have anything to say that Rhodes or Stark couldn’t tell you.”

He hated how angry he was with her for bringing Angie here, regardless of whether she was trying to make a point about superhuman registration or not. Not that he needed anyone to hold his hand through this – he’d learned his lessons about sacrificing efficacy to the illusion of emotional support – but if he could have chosen between all of his friends showing up with agendas and no one showing up at all, he might have preferred the latter.

But they were there now, and Angie must have had her reasons for holding out. Maybe the two of them could instead convince Peggy that the SHRA wasn’t in any of their best interests.

“Deadline’s coming up,” he said to Angie. “What’s holding you back?”

“Like I said, I came home yesterday,” Peggy replied.  “So pardon me if I don’t know all the details.”  This was all quite surprising, to say the least.  Steve had texted her his dissent, but she had at least believed the he would keep his head and wits about him as the deadline approached.  Clearly, this wasn’t the case.  If she wasn’t here to micro-manage everything, certain dramatic personae would make rash and poor decisions.  Angie hadn’t known he was arrested.  Angie was surprised that he was down here at all.  Likely, Angie wouldn’t be able to cough up an explanation of what Steve had even done to be put away.  Wasn’t that a shame?  Steve had gone out of his way to cause trouble for others in the name of an entirely lost cause.

Peggy drummed her fingers again on the chair t-t-t-t and then stood back, not ready to sit down quite yet.  “It would seem I don’t know what you mean, as there are six more weeks to parlay.”  The thought came to her to be exasperated, but she forced the words as kindly as she could.  Steve had made–as he had before and would again, she supposed–made a rash decision.  At least his poor choices were often for the greater good…if poorly thought through, this time with dire consequences.  “I can’t get you out of here.  This is,” she rolled her eyes and tossed up a gesturing hand, “so far beyond my jurisdiction.  Unless you want to work for me as one of the Thunderbolts–but even I don’t choose that team.  So.  Can I ask you,” she wanted to ask him a lot of things, “why, at least?

“Angie isn’t a lawyer.  She’s my companion,” she clarified. “So nothing you say to me or her will be recorded or used.”

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Angie answered first.  She adjusted her necklace and took a few steps towards towards the two military figures--through neither was dressed in a uniform of any kind, there was something about the way they held themselves, about how they conducted themselves, in what they said and what they omitted, that had become ingrained in them and now felt blatant.  They were so starkly different from her, and Angie was tempted to just let them handle their business, Angie having accepted her scare or her smack on the wrist, or her lesson that Peggy wanted to teach.  She could have happily blended into the white walls and speckled floors if Steve hadn’t addressed her and caught her attention.  

“By ‘companion,’ she means ‘girlfriend’.”  Being a vintage-y person sometimes had its charming quirks, like her affinity for matching lingerie or the monograms on all her personal effects, but occasionally it just gnawed at Angie’s sensibilities.  Still, she supposed now wasn’t the time for that, when they were--she didn’t know how far underwater.  Were they still sinking?  She only knew they were in a prison with Captain America and she didn’t even know who else would be down here.  “I’m not like the rest of you,” she replied.  

“I don’t want to register because I...really don’t think I have to.  I’m sick, not,” she threw up air quotes, “super.”  She laughed off any concern she was accustomed now to having people throw her way when she said that, “which isn’t a big deal.  I caught it in a lab, and I’m being treated for it.  It doesn’t show up all the time--it’s not even apparent, unless I choose.  Most of the time.  But I take medicine.  Besides, my doctor’s told me not to sign anything, so I really don’t think that’s a good idea, but even if I do, what can they do?  Draft me?  I’d infect anyone I bite or scratch.  I wouldn’t even make a good draftee if I wanted to, and I don’t, but I don’t think that anyone cares about that.”  

She stopped her rambling and looked apologetically at Peggy.  “I’m already getting care.  There’s nothing the government can do for me that Dr. Strange isn’t already doing.  Last night was an accident, but as it turns out there was no real danger.”  Her eyes darted down to the large, visible red splotch on Peggy’s neck.  “It just doesn’t make sense to sign.  Or for them to want me to sign.  This is for people like the X Men and the Avengers and the Fant-four-sticks….er,” she remembered her present company, “Fantastic Four.”  She stood by the table, just a pace or two away and at the other end from Peggy, but she appealed to her now.

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Frontier Peggy, Steve & Angie (28 August 2016)

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a-man-outof-time:

a-man-outof-time:

backwardsandinhighheels1945:

By the time Peggy made it back from LaGuardia to her old apartment, her feet were sore and her suit case weighed heavily in her hand.  Familiar scents, superseding all the new memories of ‘home’ she’d made along her travels, wafted back to her and put her at an ease.  The hallways were always a mixture of carpet cleaner and the muddy shoes that ruined its efforts. Peggy had only just climbed to her floor and begun to unlock the door to her apartment when a chorus of barks led to another door down the hall opening and a familiar skittering of puppy claws racing down the hall to meet her, greet her, and knock her arse over tit onto the floor.  

Howl whined and grabbed her up in his forelegs, then seemed to  realize that he, himself, wanted to be held, and tried to figure out where was her lap he could curl up in.  Peggy pushed herself up off the floor so she could sit up against the wall, and Howl nosed his way through her arms and onto her legs, giving everything a good sniff as he went.  “Oh, you nasty pooch, I love you too.”  His ears perked up at the sound of her voice and as he sat on her lap, he began to lick at her face until she shone.  Peggy pursed her lips against the onslaught of affection and stroked her fingers through Howl’s fur.  “I love you, yes I do, yes I do.”  But Howl wouldn’t be sated.  He finished licking her face–for the time being–and tried again to curl up in her lap.  He was far too big to be a lap dog, but he tried again and again to curl up between her legs, as if once more around in a circle would make room for him, that he’d grow smaller or her lap would grow deeper.  Each time around, Peggy dug her nails deep into his coat and scratched at his back, his shoulders, his neck, his legs.  

Finally, Howl placed himself on the ground, having successfully nudged Peggy’s legs far enough apart that he could sit down between them and let her pet and scratch him.  Still, he whimpered on.  

“Someone’s glad you’re home.”  Peggy looked up to see Angie, dressed in a dressing gown, standing over her.  

“Only one somebody?”  Peggy looked up at her girlfriend, and offered her a winking grin.  Goodness did she look marvelous.  The months she’d spent away had apparently been kind to Angie.  Even at a glance, there seemed to be more to her than before.  More confidence, more substance, more pride.  

“Of course I’m happy to see you.  Even if I’m not knocking you off your feet.  I saw that, English–it wasn’t graceful.”  

Peggy let her head knock against the wall.  “I’m too tired to be graceful,” she replied.  She breathed deeply, then relaxed a bit, even where she was in the middle of the hallway.  This was home.  “You look nice.”  She raised her hand and scratched, much as she’d been scratching Howl, just about where she suspected Angie’s knee to be.  “What have you been doing to yourself?”  Howl decided he didn’t like Peggy’s attention being split, so he got up and started to lick at her face and chest where Peggy supposed she might be sweaty and salty from the long day of travel.  

Angie reached out her hand to help Peggy to her feet.  “Come on, let’s get you inside.  You’re a mess.”  Peggy took her hand and pushed Howl to the ground before allowing Angie to help her haul herself to her feet.  One of her pumps had come off and she picked it up rather than take it off.  Angie already had her suitcase and had finished unlocking the door.  

Howl rushed inside ahead of them, jumped up onto the sofa, making it edge substantially along the floor.  Peggy stepped in and placed her shoe on the floor and kicked off the other.  The room was a tad stuffy.  She hadn’t really expected anyone to vacuum since she’d been gone, but opening a window might have been nice.  Dusty as it was, it smelled about right and, perhaps most importantly, all her things were here.  The two dog beds, her seating furniture, the bar stools by the kitchenette.  Photos on the wall she hadn’t seen in months of friends and landscapes she loved.  Later there would be time to clap eyes on everything she missed, but now Peggy went straight to the kitchen to pick up a dish towel and wash her face, chest and hands where Howl had loved on her.  

“So…was the trip nice?”  Angie took a seat across the counter from Peggy on one of the bar stools.  

Peggy lowered the towel, then wet it.  The unused sink spat and hissed before running.  “The trip itself was.  Most of it was spent in winter, so at least I got out of the heat.  That was nice.  New York summers are too hot.”  She brought the wet towel to her face again.  That was really about as much as she could say about the trip to anyone outside her immediate team, but Angie had some big news, too.  “How’s Broadway treating you?”  

Angie’s face broadened in pride.  “I love it, Peggy.  You need to come see the show; you’ll love it.  It’s about the Pacific Theater.  Nellie–that’s me–is a nurse–” Peggy resisted the urge to roll her eyes “–and she falls for this rich Frenchman, then she falls out of love with  him because he was previously married to an islander woman.”  

Peggy shook out her towel and placed it back over the oven door.  “That sounds about right.”  

“Her hair is brown and curly,” Angie sang, at what was undoubtedly a softened pitch, but still quite loud and unexpected.  Peggy looked up to see Angie slipping off her stool.  “Her curls are hurley-burly.”  She was singing at a cut tempo, Peggy realized, and felt before she saw Angie’s eyes rake over her.  Angie paused her song as she walked around the counter.  “Her lips are pips,” she encroached.  Peggy almost felt she was being stalked as Angie leaned in close and wrapped her arms around Peggy’s waist, “I call her hips,” her voice was little more than a murmur now and her hands slid low, “…twirly and whirly.” 

“You do no such thing,” Peggy said before kissing Angie to stop the wretched song.  She was so embarrassing.  Though the kiss had begun as a way of stopping Angie from singing, the feeling of it quickly changed.  Angie licked at Peggy’s lips and gums, making her shudder and grip at the coarse material of Angie’s robe, and wonder what kind of thing she had on underneath.  A two-handed, luxurious fondle told her it was something smooth and nice to stroke, and she imagined that it would feel cool over Angie’s hot skin.  Now, she felt flush with lust, rather from the serenade. She untied the belt, and let her hands see for themselves.  She shuddered with delight at the feeling of the slippery weave and the loose cut.  Peggy used her finger nails to trace along the hem of the nightgown around both bare legs and around the back, where she let her hands rest just where her muscled thighs grew softer.  Peggy’s fingers pinched at the soft lumps.  At another time when she wasn’t feeling quite so frantic to quickly be reacquainted all at once, she would refresh her mental map of every bump and dip of Angie’s body.  

Angie was the one to break the kiss.  Gasps came between them, then gentle moans out of Peggy as Angie began to kiss and nuzzle at her neck.  Peggy slouched against the counter, and groped again, more tightly.  She coaxed Angie’s legs so they stood on either side of Peggy’s, and she was just bringing her fingers higher bit by bit when Angie bit or sucked too hard, making Peggy pull away.  She snapped her head down over Angie’s, pushing her out of the way before she brought her hand up to the spot, then exhaling when she realized she’d held her breath.  “Not so hard,” she replied, already rubbing at Angie’s hip again when Angie stepped away.  

Next to Angie’s hot skin, the air seemed startlingly cool.  She thought for a second or two that Angie would come back, but then she just felt over-exposed, for having shown so much desire only for Angie to walk off.  “What’s wrong?”  

Angie’s hands were up over her face, hiding everything but her eyes.  Finally, after a couple, horrified seconds Angie said through her muffling hands, “oh God, Peggy, I’m so sorry.  I don’t know…if…Peggy, I need to call…I think I bit you.  I need…”  Peggy brought her hand to her neck again, and her fingers came away clean.  “I need to call my doctor and see what to do.” She ran out of the apartment, pulling her robe about her as she went, leaving Peggy, again, by herself.  

Howl was sat right next to her, looking up at her with big, clouded eyes as if wondering why she would cuddle Angie and not him.  Curious to see what had worried Angie so badly, Peggy walked into the entrance where she had a mirror, and pulled back her hair to reveal a large red spot and several little red dots where the skin had broken.  

Angie came back into the room, her phone pushed to her ear.  She was silent until the other party picked up.  “Hi, Doctor Strange, it’s Angie.  I think I might have a situation…No, no–I bit someone…No, I was human when I did it.  Is lycanthropy transmitted, I mean, does it matter what I look like? It’s my spit, either way, right?…Oh, it does matter…No, I wasn’t angry.  Even if I was, I’d probably throw a punch…Oh…You mean why was I biting?…Well, my girlfriend came home and–”  She looked down at her phone and Peggy could see that the call had been terminated.  “He hung up on me.”  

“It sounds like I’m safe.”  But as glad as she was she had–as she’d suspected–nothing to worry about, there was a deeper concern this connoted.  She locked the front door and went to the sofa, then patted the side for Angie to come sit with  her.  Howl took the invitation and happily jumped up with his mistress.  Peggy pushed him off and took Angie’s hand.  “Come sit with me.”  She waited for Angie, who was still fretting and addled, to be settled with Peggy’s arms around her before asking, “how are things going…being a werewolf?”  

Angie took a few deep breaths.  At the crest of each one, Peggy thought she might speak, but it wasn’t until the second or third that she managed to get words out.  “It depends on the day.  I think it’s what got me my job.  So I can’t hate it.  But everything else…having to drug myself once a month, having furies proclaim me their queen…I don’t like that stuff so much.  Just now, I thought I might have fated you to it, too.”  She wriggled closer, between Peggy and the back of the lounge.  

“Angie…I think you should sign the SRA.  I’ve thought about this a lot since I’ve been away, and I think it’s the best option for you.  You’ve had Dr. Strange helping you, but you need more than he can provide.  And we both know he won’t stay out of jail forever.”  She stroked Angie’s hair when she felt her girlfriend tense up.  “It could give you the help you need.  The government has all kinds of resources to help you.  Besides, you’re too dangerous to use in battle.”  

“See, Peggy, that’s it right there.  I can’t sign because I can’t fight.”  Her hands came up in protest and Peggy took them, and laced their fingers together, trying to soothe Angie into accepting her words. 

“I know.  And I don’t think they will.  But we need you out of jail.”  

“Peggy, I don’t know about this. Dr. Strange’s pretty sure it’s going to end in a blood bath if we sign.  Why, are you signing?”  

“I already have.  But let’s not compare me to you.  I’m a veteran; you’re an artist.”  She leaned down to kiss Angie’s hair.  Her beautiful, silly actress.  Peggy wrapped her arms around Angie, pulling her closer.  Her body was bigger and heavier since she’d become a wolf.  A lot stronger, too.  Whatever she did to get this way left her feeling heavy and warm.  It was a good look.  “But let’s also not compare you to Dr. Strange.  He’s a sorcerer.  You’re sick.  You need help and the government can provide it, if you’ll let them.  You’ve got to know you’re a special case.”  

“I don’t know…”  Angie slumped against Peggy and let her head rest between Peggy’s breast and her collar bone.  “I don’t know if ti’s for me…”  

“I thought you might say that.  In that case, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”   —

The next morning, Peggy brought Angie to the rooftop hangar of the Secret Service building where she worked. The sun was showing, but neither fully over the horizon nor fully visible above so many sky scrapers.  The helicopter whirred, but the pilot waved her and Angie over.  Angie seemed to hesitate, so Peggy took her hand and pulled her along.  “It’s the only way to get there.”  

The flight didn’t take long, except if Peggy were to stop and consider just how far from shore they were being taken.  It was too  far to swim, and certainly far enough that it would slip the minds of the general populace for weeks, even months at a time.  Any sort of things might go on here, the Raft might even fill up with water and sink, and the rest of the world might never find out.  

However, the helicopter finally hovered, then the pilot called her forward to giver her clearance information, and below them the prison moved to the surface.  Peggy took her seat once more and fastened her belt.  Angie looked like she might be sick, or worried, and Peggy took her hand.  “You don’t have to worry about anything.  I just want you to hear what he has to say.”  

Of course Steve had no idea they were coming.  When Peggy then Angie was helped out of the helicopter and escorted to Steve’s holding cell, he seemed surprised to see them.  Peggy carefully monitored her expression so as to look superior enough in her judgement that Angie would be coaxed into signing, but not so superior as to be overtly cruel to her friend.  “Angie Martinelli, meet Captain America.”  

Steve’s only indication that he was to expect a visitor was when the warden arrived with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a bar of soap in the middle of the day. He wasn’t allowed a razor, but the few days of stubble didn’t bother him nearly as much as having his showers monitored and his toothbrush held hostage, so he took grateful advantage of the bar of soap to wash not only his face but to spot-check as well after the warden turned his back. It was undignified, but he’d pushed through worse, and if he was to see Ross, he wasn’t going to look for a minute as though the Raft was succeeding at stripping him of his dignity.

When he was feeling decently refreshed, he passed the toiletries back to the warden through the service chute without a word, then took a seat to await his guest – then leaped to his feet when he saw Peggy enter his field of vision.

“Peg – ”

“Angie Martinelli, meet Captain America.”

Steve frowned and fell silent at the expression Peggy wore – not smug, exactly, but calculating. She was there on a mission, and Steve was pretty sure it was more for the woman Steve knew only from pictures than for himself; she never called him Captain America except to be sly. He watched Peggy for a moment more, then turned to her companion.

“Angie. Steve is fine. Pretty sure I’m getting stripped of my rank soon.”

He returned his gaze to Peggy on the last few words. It had been one thing for Tony to show up, play at having been betrayed, all to get Steve to register – at some point, Steve should have seen that coming. But for Peggy to show up to…what, make an example of him?

Surely she wouldn’t. He was probably just getting paranoid from the solitude.

“Too bad we couldn’t meet sooner,” he said, but he was still looking at Peggy, so he finally addressed her. “How’ve you been?”

Peggy hadn’t told her where they were going.  Now Angie could see why Peggy hadn’t even tried.  When they’d boarded the helicopter, Angie thought that perhaps they were going somewhere hard to reach, or somewhere an aerial entrance would be expected.  She had never ridden in a helicopter before, but she knew there was something amiss when they headed out to sea.  “Peggy, where are we going?” she asked for the fourth or sixth time that morning.  

“To visit someone in prison.”  

Prison--she hadn’t mentioned that before.  “Prison?  Angie, there’s no east-coast Alcatraz.”  There weren’t the islands for it.  

“It’s hard to explain.  You’ll see when we get there.”  

And after a thirty minute flight, she did.  Out the window, Angie saw a large ship appear from under the surface. The water drained and the roof opened, and they landed.  She couldn’t hear the sound of the roof over that of the rotating blades, but as the engine died and the great plates moved back into place, the room echoed with a great industrial groan.  

Some uniformed man approached Peggy and soluted her.  Peggy responded in kind and brought her hand down, prompting the man to do the same.  It wasn’t a young man, either.  Angie wondered just how high up Peggy went. 

“Director Carter.”  

 “Major.  This is Ms. Martinelli.  She will be joining me.”  They exchanged a few more lines, but Angie found herself distracted by the size of the room and by whether or not they were, in fact, submerged or not.  She hadn’t felt a dip.  Would she?  

It was only when Peggy placed a hand on her arm that Angie realized they were walking deeper into this submerged fortress.  She followed, a half step behind Peggy until they reached the end of the hall, turned, and continued towards a locked hatch.  The Major scanned a card, then twisted open the door.  Peggy walked in, but Angie hesitated again.  The room had only one other door and one other occupant.  

Angie recognized him from news broadcasts and billboards, toys and pin-up posters.  And from the time she had looked through Peggy’s camera roll.  “Angie Martinelli, meet Captain America.”  Angie frowned and looked away.  

This wasn’t supposed to happen.  He wasn’t supposed to be here.  She hadn’t heard a single news story or buzzfeed article about this.  She hadn’t heard this over the radio on her commute.  “What are you doing here?”  He was supposed to be changing things, making it so she didn’t have to register.  

Angie looked at Peggy, angry and disgusted, and stepped away.  She hadn’t known what to expect, but this was unfathomable.  

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Burnt-out Ends of Smokey Days (Angie & Logan) 22 April 2016

[bonetoadamantium]

He eased out of the room, just to give her a bit of privacy.   The city pup handling this better than he expected.   At least she seemed sensible.  Others might have argued longer, or tried to deny the seriousness of the situation.   Angie got his respect by accepting it, and moving forward.   

There still would be many challenges ahead, this just the first part of the literal and figurative journey.   He didn’t bother going over things again mentally.  Already a plan in place, no need to dwell on it.   It would either work, or he’d try something else.   They would find out soon enough.

Stepping back in at the sound of her voice he gave a small nod.  “Yeah, we can do that.   Places to shop between here and there.”  A reasonable request, and not one he had any trouble with.  “We’ll make stops along the way so you can stretch your legs, eat, that kind of thing.”

Logan moved to start the clean up, intending not to leave a mess behind.  “You go ahead and get ready to go.   I’ll make sure everything is all set here.”  He moved his attention back to putting things away.

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Angie put down her phone, and plugged it back into her charging cable.  “I can...” she protested as he picked up her bowl, but there was an unshakeability to Logan that made her think that perhaps she had better just do as he said, even if it meant leaving him a mess to clean up.  Angie took her wallet from her torn bag and pocketed it.  The rest, she gathered in a plastic bag, which she tied like a bindle around the shoulder straps of the torn-out cloth.  Her sneakers, to her relative surprise, had gone unchewed.  It hardly mattered at this point, but she could be glad of the small victory of being, at least, a werewolf no prone to chewing shoes.  

With her things gathered and her shoes on, Angie unplugged her still-charging phone from the wall, and gathered that cord up, too.  “I’m just going to wait outside then,” she announced.  She felt like a child, waiting for her parents to finish this and that before they went to rent the car for the weekend away.

Outside in the driveway, she waited patiently.  She thought there would be more panic than this.  Maybe the panic would come in time.  Angie didn’t know enough about human psychology to know for sure what to expect.  Last night...last night...she barely remembered anything.  It was like a dream that had faded.  Now with the taste of apples in her mouth and the feeling of shoes on her feet, she had only her torn bag and Logan’s word to go on that it had really happened.  If there was truly something inside her, wouldn’t she be the first person to know?  Not that last?  

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Puppy Sitting | Angie & Betty | 20 June 2016

[dr-betty-ross]

Betty’s attention instantly dropped from Angie to the puppy. Peggy had never told her. She carefully headed in, shutting the door tightly behind her. “She’ll be back soon.” She cooed, dropping a hand to scratch gently behind his ears. Oh Felix was going to throw a fit when she got back but he would just have to deal. She missed dogs something fierce. Her free hand waved off Angie’s apology, giggling when Howl licked at her fingers. “Oh no problem at all. He just wants to make sure I’m safe. Don’t cha boy? Peggy probably told you to watch the house while she was gone.” With one final pat Betty straightened up, feeling a bit more relaxed then when she arrived.

“Alright and honestly it is no problem.” She chuckled. “Definitely not the weirdest request I have gotten in my life. It is slightly odd, don’t get me wrong, but not the weirdest.” Nope that would have been the orange goo. That had just been a dirty, unclean day. She twitched at the thought before carefully brushing it off to the side. Not the time for that. She carefully set her bag down, pulling out the wine before nodding.

“You would be correct on that. But I’m good with adapting.” Everyone had been impressed with how well she had handled the Hulk. Coulson had once talked about making her a handler because of it. (An idea that was rejected because of her own instability at times). “Awesome, I was about ready to ask. I know everything has preferences. Like Lil’ Gil doesn’t like eating unless it is either hand fed or he gets to rip it apart.” She nodded, offering up the bottle of wine.

“Dinner sounds lovely, and honestly it is no problem.” Betty grinned. “I like Peggy, I like being of help, and I am sure she mentioned, I am a huge animal lover. Plus I kind of get what it is like to wake up one day with a whole new part of you.” God knows getting the other girl had been an experience. She could not even imagine what it would be like to wake up as another species. “And just let me know if I am doing something wrong. Just growl or something? Just in case something on the list got missed?”

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“I will--oh, thank you,” Angie replied, accepting the bottle of wine.  She hadn’t thought of drinks tonight--she wasn’t sure if they would interfere with her medicine--but set it aside and brought down a glass for Betty regardless.  “I’m sure this will go well with the veal.” She took out a knife and shaved at the foil until she could pull it free of the cork.  “I hope you’ll forgive me not joining you tonight--I’ve got to take some medicine later and I don’t know if it will interfere.” Wine poured from the upended bottle in several glugs into the oversized wine glasses Angie liked.  She passed it to her puppy sitter, then crossed the kitchen again.  

She took out a baguette stuffed with olives and a dish for olive oil and spices, and began to slice off a few pieces for the both of them to share.  Before the meat could have a break from the heat, Angie pulled it back onto the burner and flipped over all the little filets and stirred the vegetables.  “Who’s Lil’ Gil?” Angie asked.  Maybe a puppy Betty was too shy to bring over.  Of course, he would be welcome tomorrow night if she wanted to bring him along.  Angie could promise she wouldn’t bite, and Howl had an easygoing temperament, given that his usual mommy was so strict with his behavior.  

“Howl,” she cajoled over to the stove.  “Howl,” she patted her leg, to tell him he was being summoned.  The blind retriever came over quickly and Angie gave him a piece of the veal she was cooking.  He snapped it out of her hand, and Angie pet his head.  “Peggy’s spoiled you, hasn’t she, fat boy?”  She scratched his ears before washing her hands and going back to the loaf of bread.  

“It won’t be so difficult.  I’ll mostly take care of myself, but I just want someone else to be around in case...I don’t know, in case of fire or in case of other emergencies.”  It was a frightening experience to be so vulnerable that she could rely on none of her usual safeties such as using the phone or being able to leave through the fire escape if worst came to worst.  At least until she got used to such things, Angie would need a puppy sitter around.  

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Burnt-out Ends of Smokey Days (Angie & Logan) 22 April 2016

[bonetoadamantium]

He studied her intently as she picked at her fruit.   Not her fault this all happened, and her life got turned upside down.  Logan couldn’t blame her reluctance to just follow along with his plan.   He’d seen it before in young mutants with newly discovered powers.   Some were minor and could just pass for human.  Others far too dangerous or too obvious to manage it.  Angie fell into the category of gifts too dangerous to just leave on their own.

Yet, the young woman managed to surprise him.   Logan paused and then gave a nod.  “You’re welcome.   I wouldn’t be doing this to you sweetheart if I didn’t think it was necessary.”  Truth there, Logan not being known for his altruism, just following his own sort of honor code.

Letting her take her time to think things through, he remained quiet after that.  The least he could do after just one shy step of kidnapping her.  He couldn’t relent though, he had to make sure both the city pup, and everyone around her, would be safe.  

“Right away,” he told her in an almost gentle tone.  “Its a long trip and the sooner we start the sooner we get there.   Going to need all the time we have before the next full moon.” No point in pushing, but just simply stating the facts.  “For what its worth, you are doing the right thing.  You put the work in, and I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

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Right away?  But her phone was only charged 10%!  “Um.  Okay.”  Angie switched it to airplane mode so she’d get more juice into it before they left.  She closed her eyes and tried to think of all the calls and texts she had to make before they left.  Work, her class, her parent, Peggy.  From there, any of her friends could find where she’d gone from one of them.  There were her pintrest boards she would miss, and Peggy should either borrow or remember to water her ficus.  She continued to eat pieces of apple and fruit while she flipped her phone back to regular mode.  

Hi, Mom, hi, Dad.  I’m going on a camping trip with some friends in Canada.  We’re going to be gone for about a month, so if you don’t hear from me don’t worry, okay?  Don’t worry about me.  The whole thing was planned for me, so it was a bit of a surprise,  But I’m really excited about it!  No wonder they wanted me to get a passport last month!  Love you both, and I’ll talk to you when we come back.  

And then, 

Hi, Peggy.  I have bad news.  I’m going to be out of the country for a few weeks, probably no more than a month.  I don’t know for sure.  I love you and I already miss you, okay?  Can you water my plant while I’m gone? She likes one cup of water every other day.  Thank you! 

And finally, 

Hi, Darleen.  I’m really sorry to do this over a text, but I just got offered an opportunity I can’t refuse.  My doctor says I can’t put in the next two weeks, but it’s been lovely working at L&L.  I hope the next girl gets along with you guys as well as I did.  I’ll stop by some time, okay?  

“I guess that’s it,” she said, and finished the rest of the fruit in the bowl.  She stood and walked to the sink to clean it.  When that was done, she looked at her bag and put the broken, torn mess into a plastic trash bag.  “Any chance we can stop by a convenience store so I can pick up a needle and thread?  Is there time for these things?” 

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Sturgeon and Signatures (Angie & Stephen) 16 August 2016

Angie lounged in one of the armchairs in Dr Strange’s library, and tried her best not to notice that one of the books seemed not to like her.  Ever since she’d taken her seat, it had been giving her the evil eye.  An abnormally large eye seemed to have grown out of the leather binding, occasionally blinking and glaring in her direction.  When she looked back at it, it steamed and hissed angrily like a kettle.  Angie tried not to look, in case it did more than passively dislike her.  

Angie pulled an envelope out of her purse.  The notice had come last month, though she hadn’t known what to do with it.  Peggy hadn’t been in the country and wasn’t up to date on the legislature any more than Angie herself was, and it seemed like an odd sort of ultimatum.  The Superhuman Registration Act.  Apparently they wanted to keep a list of all the super humans in the country.  It seemed reasonable enough, except Angie wasn’t sure how or why they’d come to her with the news.  She wasn’t, after all, a superhero.  She’d never put on a costume to fight villains or terrorists.  Perhaps there was something more innate in the fear of the ill.  

She read the letter again.  “Ms Angie Martinelli, we have intelligence as to your condition as a super human.  In light of recent events, a census is being taken in order to secure both your rights and the safety of those around you...”  Angie tapped the sides of the paper as she read. 

...the safety of those around you...

Those lines always sent chills through Angie.  She’d never asked for this; getting infected had been a freak accident that happened in a laboratory.  She hadn’t even gone to the woods or the zoo that would expose her to other wolves.  

The letter went on to explain that not signing would be criminal.  It seemed a little extreme, but given what had happened with Spider-man and Scarlet Witch, Angie didn’t exactly fault their caution.  What did get her was the stink everyone was making about this.

The door opened and Dr. Strange returned with Angie’s werewolf medicine.  She stood and held out the letter to him.  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this.  You’re an Avenger, right?  What’s the deal with S.R.A.?  I got this letter saying that because I’m a ‘super-human’ I have to register into some database.  I don’t see a problem with that--I’m sure anyone would want to avoid an outbreak of werewolves--, but I’ve heard there’s some controversy?” she asked, not sure if he’d know much about what she was talking about.  

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Burnt-out Ends of Smokey Days (Angie & Logan) 22 April 2016

[bonetoadamantium]

“You are more than human now, and you can’t change that.”  He replied in a matter of fact tone.  “No matter what you look on the outside, human, or wolf, the wolf is always part of you now.   It lays hidden, under the skin, but you still are going to feel it.   Y’need to adjust to that before its safe.  Safe for you, and safe for everyone else.”

As much as his exterior and nature tended to be rough, for some reason teenage girls liked to adopt him.   So, he got used to the occasional water works.   Not hard to see the threat of them and moved to a side table to pick up some Kleenex and drop it in front of her just in case.   “Then we make sure you have enough in your accounts to cover until we get back.    Right now, getting this under control is your job.  I’ll consider it an investment in the safety of everyone around you.”

He mulled it over for a moment.   “Could always tell folk  you won an vacation to the Canadian wilds.   Or some special training.   I’ll have Chuck look around for jobs, you let me know what you are good at.   Long as you don’t mind workin’ for mutants.”

This one had him talking far more than he normally did.  It made his voice a bit gruff, but not harsh.  For him, his tone held a gentleness to it.  “The fact is, this needs to happen.   If you go out there, cause problems, mutants are going to take the blame.   It will make life harder for everybody.”

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“I don’t mind working for mutants,” Angie confirmed, but picked at her fruit without taking another bite all the same.  Was it so wrong that as far as day jobs went, hers wasn’t so bad and she’d kind of like to keep it if she at all could?  It was one thing to be a waitress and earn hourly wages plus tips, but it was a completely different thing to get to work in an automat where people more or less helped themselves and Angie still got to collect tips was a pretty sweet gig.  It meant more time and head space to herself to practice monologues and less effort put into memorizing orders.  

She took a bite of apple, chewed, and swallowed.  “Thank you, Logan,” she said before the disappointment could be too evident.  

It wasn’t even as if this were the primary disappointment, either.  There was so much else Angie had to do back in the city.  Her job was one thing, but what about her family?  They’d wonder why she was camping.  She couldn’t lie to her mother; she’d wonder and ask and how could Angie tell her the news?  No, it would be easier to hide if she were to stay home and hide in plain sight.  But what if Logan was actually on to something?  She chewed deliberately as she thought this over.  It wasn’t like she could refuse.  She knew something of this mutant, and he didn’t take no for an answer--already, haggling hadn’t worked.  

“Okay...okay, so let’s say I do come with you to the Middle-of-Nowhere, Canada.  I leave everything in New York for a month or more...”  It was clear she wasn’t getting out of this until after the next moon.  God, it was still so hard to imagine that her memories last night were even real, but there they were.  She drummed her fingers and imagined each finger as a paw toe.  It proved an incredibly difficult exercise and she gave up after a moment.  “Okay, the job was the big one.”  Even if she didn’t, per se, want to leave her family and Peggy behind.  It would be a long month without her.  Angie nodded.  “When do we leave?”  

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House Break (Angie & Stephen) 21 & 22 April 2016

[stephenstrange-sorcerersupreme]

 Like all major cities, New York had its fair share of gangs. Most were harmless to the average civilian, and consisted of little more than childish rivalries between adjacent boroughs.  Other, more sinister operations involving drugs or human trafficking were also not uncommon, especially within major transportation hubs like Hell’s Kitchen. These humans were rather troublesome for local law enforcement, yes, but they were not the only ones fighting for control of the city. Various supernatural factions dominated the New York underground, waging their own private wars unbeknownst to the general public. As Sorcerer Supreme, Stephen often found himself mediating between these groups, whose squabbles consistently endangered the lives of humans.

Fighting extradimensional beasts or parasites was one thing, as they often operated on the edge of human perception. Most were relatively harmless, like insects, but those that weren’t frequently went unnoticed, even by their victims. Containing the threat was much easier this way.  Humanoids, however, such as demons and vampires, tended to be a much bigger problem. Creatures that routinely pierced the veil between the mystical and mortal populations were incredibly dangerous, as they could manipulate and lure any number of unsuspecting humans to their doom.

While most low level demons could be defeated with a simple banishment spell, some supernatural beings, like werewolves, were not as easy to deal with. Unlike Vampirism, which was a form of necromancy, lycanthropy was a disease inflicted on living humans.  As native inhabitants of the Earth dimension, they could not be banished, nor could their souls be purified like that of a vampire. One simply had to hope that the infected human could control themselves, or at the very least prevent themselves from attacking others. If not, the only possible consequence for repeat offenders was death.

Most of the New York werewolf packs moved up into the mountains during the full moon, or locked themselves in their various bases of operation, but there were always a few who remained behind. Some wanted to use their brief increase in power to pick a fight with a rival gang, or enact some sort of revenge.  For three nights a month, it was Stephen’s job to prevent these lycans from injuring or infecting any humans that could unknowingly stumble upon them.  

So as grotesque as it was to watch a woman being torn apart by a wolf, it wasn’t necessarily an uncommon sight. Still, Stephen was livid.

“RELEASE HER,” the sorcerer snarled, waiting until the wolf turned around to fire a blast of energy at its throat. The impact sent the wolf skidding across the pavement, unmoving. For now.

Stephen ran over the butchered woman, bringing a hand to her neck to check for any signs of life. There; the pulse was weak, but that meant there was still a chance to save her. He would have to hurry.

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Angie looked up as the other human came close.  She growled deep in the back of her throat so he would know to stay away.  She wanted some privacy, some security that nobody would try to either eat some for themselves or rescue her meal.  He approached quickly, without fear, and she lowered herself to the ground, ready to spring, growling again so he would stay back from this.  

The last thing she saw was a flash of green light.  

At first Angie thought she’d somehow fallen asleep at the audition.  Had long days of waitressing and long nights of theatre finally caught up with her?  She closed her eyes, already flushing with embarrassment at her behavior, and sure she wasn’t going to get the part.  When she moved, she realized that she had a wicked headache.  She held still and breathed deeply to try and ease the worst of it.  The floor, Angie realized as she moved, wasn’t the springy dance floor of the stage, but the cool concrete floor of the stairwell in the back of the Griffeth.  She must have fallen down...though she was entirely unclothed  She’d get to that in a minute.  Angie looked for blood, either on the floor or on the back of her head.  That certainly would explain the throbbing. 

When she looked, Angie realized immediately that she wasn’t at home.  The basement had a similar floor, that that’s where the similarities ended.  The walls were made of an old fashioned stone.  Everything about it, in fact, was either made or stylized in a decidedly gothic manner.  Angie grew self-conscious and curled herself up small, in case she wasn’t, in fact, alone.  

She looked around her and was relieved to see that there was a folded pile of clothes not too far from her on a table.  Angie read the note.  

You’ve had a long night.  Once you come to, put these on and meet me upstairs.

The writing was messy, as if written by shaking hands or by someone who couldn’t see.  Angie donned the dress and tights, and proceeded up the iron-railed spiral staircase to the door.  She thought of knocking before barging into someone’s house, but tried the knob first.  “Hello?”  The stairwell opened into a grand two-story library lined with portraits, mahogany shelves, and oriental carpets.  A man stood among these things, looking more like he belonged in one of the portraits than in the flesh.  “Sorry to bother you, but I think you had me locked in your basement?” 

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Burnt-out Ends of Smokey Days (Angie & Logan) 22 April 2016

[bonetoadamantium]

“It belongs to a friend.  One that understands problems like yours.”  He sipped his coffee for a moment.  “Well, not exactly like yours, but mutants with similar issues.”   Angie came in as a first for him.   Something very unusual.   Yet another reason to stick with her long enough to make sure she had the solid grounding of control.   

“We are going north, and don’t worry about your passport.”  He dismissed the concern out of hand.  Chuck would help him if need be.  Plus well, he found ways in and out before on his own without getting caught.   Getting there would be easy.   “I hate to tell you, pup, but you aren’t going to be in a fit state to work for awhile.   That’s one of the reasons I want to take you someplace quiet to help you get a handle on it.”

Logan moved over to settle by her, keeping his gaze on his.  He kept his tone gentle as he considered her.  “I can smell it on you, the animal just below the skin.  Its the hint of fur and wild things.   It’s not a tame scent and it doesn’t just lie down and go away.   You have to deal with it now, or it will control you.”  He shook his head slight, not offering sympathy, just his own rough compassion.  “Even if you only transform to full wolf under the full moon, its still there.  These things just don’t go to sleep.  We’ll deal with the job when you have control.  Maybe my friend will help pull strings.”

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“You keep saying that,” Angie observed, not entirely what he meant by the smell of the wild animal within.  She picked up a lock of damp hair and sniffed at it, but all she could discern was the soap and suds of her refreshingly human shower.  Whatever Logan was smelling, it couldn’t have been from the night before.  Maybe it was an expression, and maybe there was really something there.  She drummed her fingers against the table in frustration.  “And I don’t know what you mean.  Right now I’m Angie.  I’m just me.

“Things have gotten weird lately, sure, but I’m not a threat. At least, I don’t want to be a threat.”  Angie tipped her head back to keep the tears from falling down, and blinked a couple times to dry them before exhaling.  Usually she wouldn’t mind crying in front of someone over something as big as this, but her companion didn’t seem like the kind of person who had any tolerance for waterworks.  “It doesn’t change the fact that I have to pay rent, you know.  I’m still a waitress who lives off her tips.  I pay my rent direct deposit to direct deposit and this is the farthest I’ve ever been from home.  Probably.”  They were a couple hours outside the city, but without traffic she didn’t know how far that might be.  

“If it’s a question of safety, I’ll go with you to Canada,” Angie conceded, “but a lot of things that I’d rather not lose if there’s any other way.”  She paused for a second to think of something that might make this better and not having lie to her friends, family, and place of work.  “It’s very generous of you to offer,” she assured Logan that his efforts weren’t going to waste or being taken for granted.  It was just that this whole situation was messed up and unfair.  

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Burnt-out Ends of Smokey Days (Angie & Logan) 22 April 2016

[bonetoadamantium]

Logan poured himself another cup of coffee as he watched her.   Content to stay silent as she sorted herself out.   Food and the shower should help her feel more like herself, more human.   The little pieces that built an individual up and made them feel settled in their skin.  So he let her pull those bits together of routine and sorting through her things.

“Who said this was my place?   This belongs to a friend.  We have a ways to go yet.”   This next part probably would go over like a lead balloon.  Generally people that lived in the city weren’t as anti-social as most.   Plus she likely had a life she wanted to get back to.  Not that he would back down, experience taught him that left unchecked, someone going feral could cause a huge problem.  This kid seemed sweet enough, she needed help, and he would give it to her.  Even if she yelled at him for it.

“Sorry to tell you puppy, but you need more than a couple of days to get a handle this.   More like a month.”  He shrugged, leaning back on the counter.   “We can stop and get  you some supplies and stuff, but we’ll be crossing the border.  I have a place away from people.  Which is what you are going to need to get a better hold on what’s going on.”   Logan had no intention of letting her back into ‘civilization’ until she did have a handle on it.  Once he stepped in, it would be irresponsible of him to not see it through.

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“Oh.  I assumed this was your place.”  Maybe not their ultimate destination, but still his.  Why else would he bring a guest, know its supplies, and eat its food?  Angie looked around at the woods-retreat house, as if her eyes might pick up a clue about whose it was or what had gone on in here before.  There was nothing, of course, except that she couldn’t imagine Logan as the sort to put up curtains over his windows.  No, probably wasn’t the sort to decorate and probably wouldn’t care about privacy this far out in the countryside.  “Whose place is it?” she asked, now a little curious whose generous hospitality she owed.  

“And where, exactly, are we planning to go?”  Logan said they were crossing the border, but which one?  Certainly not crossing into Canada; Angie had never had a passport in her life, and if she did she was fairly sure she wouldn’t have carried it with her to work and kept it in her purse when Logan had found her.  Post-9/11 as they were, they were sure to want some official documentation, and Angie didn’t even have a driver’s license to show them.  Logan would have thought of that, so then where?  Vermont?  No, that just wasn’t right.  He’d meant Canada.  “Because I don’t have a passport with me or anything like that.  And I can’t take that much time off work.  I’m not exactly irreplaceable at work and I don’t have that many vacation days...”  Even the time she was spending out here was cutting it close to the bone.  She’d have to call in sick, she supposed, for the afternoon shift, but getting back to work the day after wasn’t even a choice. 

“Look, even if I spent a month camping, it would just be camping, wouldn’t it?” she reasoned.  “I’m not a wolf /now/ and I won’t be if it’s not night time.”  That’s how it worked, wasn’t it?  She’d only wolf-out if it was nighttime under the full moon?  That wizard had told her a bunch  of stuff, and honestly most of it felt like a fever dream she’d had days ago, now.  None of this felt real and she was ready to get some real sleep.  “So what if we saved the date in a month and make do when it’s time to wolf again?”  As she leafed through her phone, the battery finally gave up the ghost.  She set it down on the counter.  

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Puppy Sitting | Angie & Betty | 20 June 2016

[dr-betty-ross]

Maybe it was testament to her life that Peggy asking her to werewolf sit didn’t phase her. Or maybe it was a testament to how calm Peggy was that she didn’t freak out. But, her fellow rescuer had just casually asked her to sit with her werewolf girlfriend while, flipping her over onto the mat. Granted, that might have taken away from the surprise of the werewolf factor of the question. Generally, the other girl stepped in long enough to keep them from hitting the mat. Especially, if Natasha was overseeing the trainer. Something about not wanting to be weak in Bucky’s mate’s eyes. She had agreed though, after she had gotten her breath, Peggy was hard to refuse and, not too many people could say they had babysat a werewolf before. Even if Sharon had rejected her, she would enjoy that experience.

(For solid reason, they were still friends though. That’s what counted…or least that is what she kept having to remind herself.)

Betty carefully adjusted the straps on her backpack before knocking on the door. She had brought along a bottle of wine as well as things she thought might be useful. A huge collar, leash, Frisbee, and a water bottle for herself. A giant looking dog would not be the weirdest thing in New York city, so a trip to the dog park might help. At least, it might burn off some extra energy from being a werewolf. Maybe. This was a little bit out of her science-knowledge league. Honestly, she probably would have asked Peggy if she could take a few data recordings, had she not known how the other would react. All of them were a little touchy about experimenting on things so, it was just easier to avoid that landmine.

Her fingers drummed nervously on her leg while she waited for the door to open. She could hear the footsteps on the other side. It only took a breath for the door to swing open, and a nervous smile to take place on her face. “Ahh Angie? My name is Betty, ahh…Peggy asked me here?” She shrugged and bit before straightening her posture. “I’m supposed to be your companion for this fine evening.” And that it was, for the summer it was rather nice outside. “Am I at the right address?”

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That must be Betty.  When Angie heard the knock on the door, she turned the stove down to a low heat and let the veal continue to cook as she rinsed her hands and went to attend to the door.  She opened the door, not quite knowing whom she expected to see, only that she was a teammate of Peggy’s. She smiled politely when the woman introduced herself, relived that she had made it.  As soon as Howl heard the door open, he made a beeline for the exit.  Angie caught his collar.  “Yes, that’s right.  Come in, or this one’ll get out.  I think he misses Peggy.”  

With the visitor inside and How contentedly sniffing at Betty’s feet, legs, and fragrant bits, Angie straightened and waved a little “hello.”  “Sorry about him.  He’s been like this since yesterday.  Anyway,” she continued, leaning against the wall.  “I really appreciate that you’d come out and watch after me for this.  I know it’s a bit of a weird request, looking after a werewolf while she...does her wolf thing.  Really,” she added, “come in.  You can put your bag anywhere.  Just make yourself at home.”  The day before, with Peggy, she’d made a to-do list of everything her girlfriend would need to know about taking care of a sentient wolf.  The list had (unfortunately) included Angie trying to be modest about needing to go outside and had left her thirsty and grumpy after a few hours, and a weird moment of tension where she’d had to beg like a dog for the chicken she was going to leave out.  Since conception, the information Angie felt she needed to deliver had almost doubled in length.  

“I’m guessing this is your first time with...all of this.”  Even Logan had never met a real werewolf before; just other shifters who could do this at will.  “There’s some stuff we’ll need to go over, but there’s time for that,” she explained.  Goodness, she was already feeling antsy and wild.  Perhaps she should take her medicine before the moon made her more rattled than she already was.  “Are you hungry?  I’m making dinner as a thanks for doing this.  I really appreciate it, especially since, you know, we don’t know each other that well.”  

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Burnt-out Ends of Smokey Days (Angie & Logan) 22 April 2016

[bonetoadamantium]

An amused smirk briefly ghosted on his face at her reaction.  “Well darlin’ you were pretty well determined to do that last night.   I wasn’t about to rile you up by arguing with you.”  In the long term keeping her calm would help with control.  Plus wrangling an irritated or combative wolf not his idea of a good time.  Okay maybe it was his idea of a good time but it wouldn’t be beneficial for her.

Logan noticed the shift in her expression and followed her gaze.  Ah, that would be one of the things the pup got up to last night.  Her own scent would have attracted her to the object, and curiosity would trigger the rest.  Probably it irritated her, nobody liked having their things destroyed, even if they happened to be the one doing the destroying.

After she made her way to the bathroom and he heard the shower flip on, he moved back outside.   Carefully he picked up the ruined purse and the scattered contents.   There very possibly could be some things still inside the accessory, but best to let Angie go through that herself.  Back inside he dumped it on the kitchen table.

Going to the fridge, he assessed the breakfast options.   Non-meat she voiced a desire for, but did that mean no eggs either?   Well plenty of fresh fruit.   He grabbed some to cut up, moving to the counter with an arm load of items.  Bread and butter he put next to the counter.  When she (finally) came back out and asked, he waved a hand at the bowl of fruit and other items.  “Help yourself.”

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Angie eyed the possibilities eagerly, and crossed to the counter where a loaf of bread sat.  She picked up the knife and cut herself a couple of generous slices, one of which she didn’t even bother to butter.  It disappeared in seconds as Angie hurriedly buttered the other slice.  Now that there was actually food in front of her, Angie’s hunger took hold in a vicious way.  The second slice of bread disappeared like the first (though perhaps not quite a s quickly).  Then, Angie set about with the fruit.  Mostly apples and pears and the like.  The sort of thing one person might eat in a sitting.  This was clearly one person’s house.  The thought really hadn’t occurred to her the night before.  Logan had made it sound like a temporary spot, but it was clearly very well-stocked with food, bathroom supplies and even clothing that fit her (more or less).  

As she chewed through apple and grapes, Angie rifled absently through her bag from the night before.  Torn out as it was, it still held most of her things.  Maybe the wolf had just been curious.  Nothing, at the very least, smelled like werewolf piss.  Just in case, Angie tried her best to be surreptitious about sniffing it, just to be sure about that. Eh.  It was probably fine.  Angie lay the contents out one piece at a time before laying the ruined bag down on the chair beside her.  Her wallet and iPhone were first priority, and both seemed in good condition.  She turned on her phone to see if anyone had tried to call her.  There were a few texts from her Dad, whom she could ignore, and a few more from Peggy, whom she couldn’t.  She swiped and typed a little, “I’m fine, just camping with a friend,” to her, and hoped that no further explanation would be needed in the next few days while she sorted out just what was going on. 

Then there was her small umbrella.  It hadn’t rained, after all.  A couple of tampons which she hastily stuffed under her wallet (now, that was embarrassing), and some spare change that had wiggle free of her wallet some time ago.  One, two, three lipsticks all next to one another.  Since when had she needed so many shades of off-pink to brown?  And a handful of bobby pins that had crawled in there to die.  She clawed around in the bag a little more to see if there wasn’t something she missed, but that was all.  The front was completely torn out, making it unusable, except with some extreme repair work.  She sighed and pushed her now-empty bowl away from her.  “So, what’s the plan?  We stay here in your upstate cabin for another day and go back to the City?” she asked Logan.  

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Burnt-out Ends of Smokey Days (Angie & Logan) 22 April 2016

[bonetoadamantium]

“I’ve seen a lot of weird shit,” Logan rumbled in response.  While the fact that you aren’t a mutant makes you different, it doesn’t come close to other things.”  Simple as that for the older male.   The much older male, if the pieces of memory he held on to proved true.   Part of why he could take certain things in stride.   He focused on the most important things to him.  Anything leftover he didn’t give a fuck about.

“Yeah, mutant shifters.  Its not a common ability but there are those that have it.   Don’t ask me the science behind it because I quite honestly don’t know and don’t care.”  He gave a negligent wave of the hand.  “I just know the kids work up appetites expending energy, especially when they are first learning how to use what they have.  So it makes sense it works for you too.”

As they got closer to the building, he looked over and shot her an amused grin.   “You know, your instincts are pretty well intact as a wolf.    You decided to claim this clearing as yours, and proceeded to do so.”   With that sally, he started to head into the cabin.  “Clean clothes and stuff for you in the bathroom.”

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Angie snapped around at Logan’s words and dropped her hand to her side.  “Oh.  Gross,” she dismissed the pungent (and now far too recognizable) scent of werewolf piss and quickly walked tender-footed walk across the hard rocky drive to the cabin porch.  As she made her way across the drive, Angie saw a ripped-up thing.  Getting closer, she recognized it as her bag.  It was chewed through (presumably by her werewolf self) and her things were scattered everywhere.  It hadn’t rained, and no other wild animals had seen fit to talk off with her wallet or her lipstick.  Still, the New Yorker was more than a little nonplussed at its having spent the night outside on the ground.  Besides, she’d liked the bag.  

 “A shower is exactly what the doctor ordered,” she replied in an irritable combination of disgust and disappointment.  Once inside,she made a beeline for the shower.  She noticed the clothing that Logan had set out for her.  How had he known, she wondered, that she would be needing them?  Anything would be better for biking than the skirt she had worn the night before.  

Angie stayed in the shower until the small water source ran cold, then as long as she could stand the temperature after that.  Dirt and grime washed off of Angie until she could walk across the tub without leaving brown muddy footprints in her wake.  Without the curly products she usually used, Angie resigned herself to soap for her hair and letting it stay tangly and sticky all day.  Even that was better than wondering if there were still bugs in it.  

It was a good twenty or thirty minutes later that Angie emerged from the bathroom, freshly changed into the shirt and trousers Logan had given her.  They were slightly too large for her, but Angie couldn’t bring herself to care, now that she was at the very least covered and clean.  Goodness, how her standards had fallen.  “So.  Breakfast options?”  She crossed the kitchen and looked around to see what she could do. 

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Has the Moon Lost her Memory? (Angie & Clea) 22 April 2016

[dark-dimension-clea]

“She doesn’t believe me,” Stephen huffed, jaw tense in frustration. His hands moved easily over a crystal sphere, where the young woman’s image twisted and swirled like the smoke within. Bathed in the dim, orange glow of candlelight, it looked almost as though the image was formed in flame.

“Why would she? Most humans prefer to avoid that which they don’t understand, do they not?” Clea said, studying the girl thoughtfully. Lycanthropy; she had done extensive reading on the Earth disease during her training, but had limited experience with it first hand. Still, she could empathize. Having everything you’d ever known torn away in a single instant was a terrifying experience. Poor thing, the girl was probably just confused.

“Usually I could ask one of the local packs to adopt her, at least for the first few cycles, but that’s impossible on such short notice. They all left the city last night, and I don’t have time to watch her myself.”

“Imprisoning her again wouldn’t be the kindest option, but it might be the only one you have at the moment,” Clea said. The human hadn’t broken any rules, not necessarily; she wasn’t purposely attacking humans, but if she continued to ignore Stephen’s warnings, she would be just as guilty as a wolf that had.

The sorcerer sighed. “ I can’t allow her to transform without any sort of protection in place, not after what happened last night. Her next victim might not be so lucky, and if she’s loose again tomorrow…”

Clea draped her arms over her husband’s shoulders, dissolving the image in the crystal ball with a flick of her wrist. “Don’t dwell on it too much, my love. You’ll break my scrying orb.”

“I have to do something, she’ll kill someone otherwise.” he huffed.

“She’s only a fledgling, Stephen; she isn’t aware of the danger she poses. Let me speak with her, she may respond to a slightly gentler approach.”

“No, it’s not your problem. I couldn’t ask you to do that, not when you have your own responsibilities.”

“You’re not asking me to do anything. I’m simply telling you that I may or may not be striking up a conversation with human by the name of Angie later,” she smirked, giving him a small peck on the cheek. “and besides, it’s been far too long since I’ve had a decent earth confectionary.”

She had made a terrible mistake, ordering two pieces of pie instead of one. Earth food was always much, much sweeter than what she was accustomed too, and this was no exception. Halfway through the first slice and she could already feel a headache creeping up on her, but It was too delicious to throw away. Perhaps she could take the second piece back with her…

“Want some more coffee with that pie?”

“Regular is fine, Thank you,” clea said, putting the leatherbound book shed been flipping through down on the table beside her. It contained somewhat important financial documents, and normally she’d be concerned about leaving it out in the open, but she doubted any of the humans here knew how to read runes.

“Why don’t you take a seat yourself?” Clea suggested, gesturing to the open chair across from her. “I assure you, no one will be needing anything from you in the meantime.” There was a flash of colour in her eyes with those word.

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Angie poured the coffee, but found herself caught off guard by what the patron said next.  She glanced at the white haired woman for a second, then back to the cup as the coffee approached the rim.  Straightening, Angie cast a glance around L&L, but the place was almost uncharacteristically quiet.  Nobody was hurriedly flagging her down or asking after their bill.  It gave Angie the same strange unease that she’d felt that morning in the sorcerer’s house (which, oddly enough, had been just a few blocks away from where her parents lived and completely hidden from view among the other Greenwich architecture unless one knew what to look for).  There was something different about the very air she was breathing, even if she couldn’t quite name what that was.  Like the air before a lightning storm, there was an incredible potential that hung between them.   

“I can spare a moment, sure.”  Angie set down the pot of coffee and slid into the booth so that she could both chat with the woman in purple and keep an eye on the rest of the restaurant.  

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All Alone in the Moonlight (Angie & Maria) 21 April 2016

[furyslefteye]

Maria was in so much pain she was struggling keeping her shield up. It took a lot of focus now that it wasn’t just an autonmous response to panic or fear. Maybe she was just weak because she was kind of bleeding everywhere - in the few seconds she had, she tried to cover her deeper wounds on her shoulder.

She stood up, holding her wrist up to her mouth and pressed on her watch - it was one of the last cool secret spy things she kept. It was basically a direct message to the Avengers HQ, and anyone who was listening to that feed would hear her.

“This is Maria Hill, I’m being attacked by a-aHH!“ Her words cut out into a scream as she was then attacked again.

The wolf attacked her foot, trying to gnaw at her shoe. She was trying to drag her foot away, trying to keep her balance. She didn’t really want to fall over again. Then she’d really be a goner. Also, why wasn’t anyone else on the street helping? She couldn’t see anyone out of her peripherals, but it was New York. Someone was usually walking around.

But nope, as soon as her shoe came off, she was on the ground again. She could see the teeth marks on the top of her foot. She backed up slightly, and with all of the energy she could muster, threw up her shield once more. She heard the wolf bounce backwards.

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Angie yowled when she hit the same invisible field.  Whatever this prey was doing, it confused Angie and she didn’t like it one bit.  She couldn’t make sense of it, but she was fairly sure of one thing.  This shield, this elusive substance wasn’t always there.  It wasn’t always up to protect the prey.  After sneezing a couple of time and running her front paw over her nose to make it feel better, she dropped again into a low crouch.  

Step by step, she came forward, making sure she wouldn’t get smacked, making sure the prey stayed down.  Angie was almost certain that she wasn’t getting up again.  

Someone in the street had noticed her.  Another of the prey.  They stood by and watched.  At first Angie was worried that it might try to help, but it seemed scared.  With good reason.  Angie snarled at it, and decided she needed some more privacy with her almost-carcass.  It wasn’t dead yet, but it soon would be. 

Angie tried her shoulder, but found that she couldn’t get a good enough grip on it without it falling off.  She couldn’t have that.  So she grabbed her firmly by the leg and started to pull her backwards into the park.  Among the brush, Angie licked at its leg.