Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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come undone || Balthazar & John
The ‘fan’ in question turned to John, his drink still in hand, as did his companion with some bit of shared curiosity and annoyance, the latter being mostly upon the female’s part. He grinning all the same though, friendly and professional.
"Thank you, it comes like fine wine," he replies easily, holding up his glass which isn’t actually wine. "Aged and decadent." he adds, sipping his drink before looking back at the other. "I couldn’t help but notice you had quite the— range in tolerance. Anyone else in your position would, for lack of a better term, be totally smashed." he remarks with some bit of amusement. His female companion stands back for the time being, listening to them chatter away idly.
"So what’s the occasion then?" he starts again. "Festive or depressive?"
John smirked and leaned up against the bar, making it clear that he had no plans of leaving just yet. He eyed the woman idly, but his main focus was on this stranger that had bought him a drink. Of course he was still heavily on the playing field, but it wasn’t every day in New York that someone bought John a drink anymore.
He nodded slowly, raising his glass in turn and drinking to the man’s words without a thought, only to pull the glass away and laugh quietly. “Mm…well, let’s just say genetics have treated me kindly,” he explained vaguely. Honestly, that was half the truth. He already had a heavily built tolerance thanks to the fifty-first century, but it was the immortality that did the trick. “Not exactly from these parts.” He licked his lips, unsure if he should explain further. He didn’t even know his own goals for this conversation, so he couldn’t very well try and predict anything—he rarely did anyway.
“Depressive is always festive to me. Always festive, in my opinion.” He chuckled, pouring more down his throat. “And you? What’s your occasion? You don’t seem like the usual crowd,” he muttered with a raised eyebrow, vaguely gesturing to the rest of the bar.
Circus Act || Kurt & John
The night hummed with a sense of vibrancy that one didn’t see in the daylight hours. No longer were the vibrant golden hues of the early morning turned to a dusty grey by the afternoon. White light against blackness reigned here, and still lost out in the ever increasing shadow that Kurt had decided to hide himself within. The days weren’t ideal for a wall-crawling mutant with a bright blue complexion, granted. But he managed, he supposed, lurking in derelict buildings that brought with them a certain lonely sense of peace. A remnant, perhaps, of that which he felt in the cathedral. The cold stone and old wood had become a home to him, and so he couldn’t see why the hollow apartment block in a less than desirable neighbourhood couldn’t serve that purpose. In structure, were they not the same thing? The absence of God, of course, counted for something. But if he could not carry his faith here, he couldn’t carry it at all, and so belief stayed whether he remained in the presence of the almighty or not. But the night, it made him curious. Pulled him away from prayer, if only to spy on what it was that humans got up to in their darkest moments. An intriguing warning if ever there was one.
If any one believed in fate, on the other hand, he wouldn’t have guaranteed the one he spied on in that moment of doing so. Whether it was complete coincidence or not that one Captain John Hart had just stumbled out of a bar and into the alleyway that Kurt had been watching didn’t matter. The mutant’s citrine gaze had locked and he was suddenly tense, even mildly fearful. He’d not seen John like this for some time, and so worry clouded most reason.
But he’d not interfere unless it was necessary. Though completely reckless, Kurt still held on to the continually faltering belief that he could look after himself. He needed to be able to look after himself. And so as guns were pulled, he edged forward on the rooftop, staring down at the two men, ready to pounce should any one start making the wrong move.
The crackle of gunfire, and Kurt was gone. Porting hardly silently to an opposite, lower rooftop, he took the briefest of seconds to check that John hadn’t been too badly hurt. No. But violence inspired only a need to prevent it in Kurt, and so he appeared directly behind his old friend as he pulled the pistols on the stranger. A hiss off annoyance left him as he dragged John away by his collar, pulling him away with the quickest of movements and sending them both as far from the alley as he could reach.
John pulled his guns out, ready to at least threaten the man. Just a year ago he would have shot on sight, but even now, he was hesitant if only because he knew how much a life was worth. He didn’t suppose he was in any shape to be granting who should live and die, but he wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Right now, it was a matter of getting this guy out of his way. Instinctively, John knew that to be with a gun.
He never got the chance however. He heard him, but before he could turn to see who it was, he was pulled away and disappeared rather suddenly. Once he regained himself, he stumbled, turning on his heels. His guns were still in hand, and he automatically pointed them at his attacker, only to find that there was no attack at all. His guns dropped and his eyes widened, everything suddenly making sense.
“Kurt…?” He barely whispered it, but he knew it was real. He hardly believed it, still. But what else was there to believe when he was pulled away and ported elsewhere. He put his guns away slowly, almost apologetically, and took a deep breath. “What are you doing here? Not that… you … shouldn’t be…”
Count My Sins || John & Tommy
"I know myself well enough that I know that I’ve got only one useful skill. The only good thing about me is my mutation." Wasn’t that why they’d gotten their hands on him in the first place anyway? Because of his mutation? It hadn’t mattered that Tommy Shepherd had been a human being. Not when there had been nobody to miss him —not his parents, not the kids in his class or the teacher who only saw him as a bother. And after that it had been exactly the same. The Young Avengers, had they seen him as a person or an asset? Sometimes the speedster doubted. Maybe they had started out as seeing him as just his power, and had seen him as a person in the end. He didn’t know. And it wasn’t like he could ask now.
He shoved the dark thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on John’s words. “Sounds just about right” he said with a nod. “I guess we’re a bit like ants, in a way.” He rolled his eyes. “I think history’s the most boring. Why do we pay so much attention to the past when it’s the future we gotta look forward too? I don’t care about how bad rights were in the past, I want to focus on making them better in the future.” He chuckled bitterly. “Then again, I just hate school. Never could focus for long enough to be a model student.” It wasn’t school he hated, it was more the fact that the teachers were so slow. The other kids were so slow. He had to actively focus to just stay still for an entire hour of class, and it didn’t leave any space in his mind to focus on class as well.
Tommy’s eyes widened. “Are you— really?” That sounded great. An entire new place to explore; something else than Earth and the countries he’d visited. He jumped to his feet, at the door before John had the chance to turn around. “What are we waiting for? C’monc’monc’mon" he said, slurring the word in excitement as he started babbling at high speed.
John grinned and shrugged. “Well, I bet you got others. Kid like you… Besides, you can define ‘useful’ however you want,” he winked, laughing. He didn’t define himself based on other people’s interpretations anyway. He’d been seen as useful by various others, of course, but as for his own terms, John felt nearly powerless. He didn’t focus on that though.
He laughed at Tommy again though. “School is boring. I just like learning how other people screwed up before us. Plus, sometimes it can help out, weirdly enough. They had a few good ideas, anyway, and idiots of the future don’t expect you to pull out tactics that are thousands of years old,” he explained. “Plus, for time travel, well you pick things up as you go.”
Speaking of time travel, John was eager—more than eager. Even though he knew it would be a very short term visit to wherever they went, the last time he’d left Earth was under completely different circumstances. So naturally, he bounded outside, amazed at Tommy’s speed. He only could laugh though, and ducked back into the alley next to the building. “Jeez, kid, alright, calm down!” He laughed and hummed softly as he pulled back his sleeve, looking at the vortex manipulator. “Just for a little while, alright? I mean, when we get back here, it’ll be like we weren’t even gone five minutes. But seriously, I’m not going to get you lost on another planet or somethin’, alright?” He chuckled, plugging in coordinates. “Grab onto me,” he smirked, reaching out for Tommy.
He had plugged in for another planet. On Earth’s timeline, it was one hundred years later, but the planet was fairly primitive. They had plenty of interaction with other planets, but they had avoided technological advancements somehow. Most of the planet was filled with forests unlike anything that Earth had ever seen. Most likely, they wouldn’t come across anyone else, which might be for the best. “Uhh, this one’s called Brajh, I think. They changed the name last time so…”
Second Chance // The Captains
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Circus Act || Kurt & John
Another place, a better time.
That’s what he’d said the first time. And the time after that. And the time after that—
Maybe this time will be better. How many times had he tried now? Too many. And every time ended up the same. He’d laugh his way through, end up in trouble, stumble, and fall. He was in it for the long term now, or so he’d hoped. He didn’t dislike Earth, but it was difficult to adjust to. It was mostly the long term part of the equation that he didn’t like. He understood their technology better than they did, he knew how to get around without getting into trouble, and also how to cause a scene when he craved it. But there wasn’t much there for him. Jack was back, sure, but what good did an ex-Time Agent do him? Jack didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, John was starting to realise.
So why did he hold on?
Well it wasn’t like he came back to Earth without some kind of …hope. Ugh, hope? That’s rich, John.
“Alright, dude, we’re closing up.”
He looked up, about to protest the bartender, but just sighed and turned away. He slapped a bill on the counter and headed out, snatching a full bottle off of a table as he did so. “Sure, it’s too late for you normal Earth freaks…” he mumbled, stumbling slightly as he started down the sidewalk. It was late anyway, and the streets were fairly abandoned in this area at least. “Just one more reason I should leave.”
John stopped, looking around him carefully for a moment. He wasn’t going to leave though. It was that stupid word again. Hope. Sounded like something out of an awful TV drama. He continued walking, stumbling into an alley. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one looking for a wall to slump against. “Oi, buddy. Scat.”
The other man stared at him, unmoving. John sighed and cocked his head, taking another drink. “I said out. Get! Scram!” He yelled, waving an arm. The man pushed away from the wall and pulled a gun out from his jacket. John rolled his eyes and threw the empty bottle at the wall next to the guy, grinning as it shattered. “You wanna play then, do you? Go on. Show me what you’ve got. I’ll give you the first shot free and—”
The man fired before John could finish, and he stumbled backwards, laughing. He put a hand to the wound that had hit his shoulder and shook his head. “You missed.” He growled and took a deep breath. He could already feel it closing up as he pulled out his own twin guns. “I said scram!”
Cherry Pie {AU Chatzy Drabble}
Setting/Circumstance: John Hart has just been transported to a strip club by the angel Castiel.
John Hart gets his sexy on because eh, whatever, business is business and Gwen is at least decent looking. Plus money. He strips. He strips like there is no tomorrow. He strips for all the good in the world. He strips for justice. And he dances the night away. He spins those hips, and weapons come out of seemingly nowhere as he tosses clothes aside. He strips for man and alien alike. He strips with vigour like none has ever seen before. His dance moves shatter the Earth.
John takes his break after an hour of dancing, pulling out of the club to smoke with another one of the strippers back behind the club. He looks her over, grinning. "Love the outfit," he commented. After half an hour, he settled on trading with her his police-man-coat for her feathery chemise. He continued dancing, his hips moving with years of practise, earning every single dollar that slipped into his pants.
He plopped down at the bar after another long tiring hour of dancing, enjoying this strip club in Miami. The customers rarely spoke English to him, and most of them assumed that he didn't speak Spanish, but naturally, they didn't know that the Captain knew 64 unique languages. He flirted with a woman at the bar until he convinced her to give him her feather boa to match the chemise he was periodically wearing and taking off, and downed several drinks. Now, of course, the thong just didn't seem to match the rest. In a moment of heartbreak, he traded his precious boots for a short fluffy skirt, wondering if that would get him more money. Half an hour later, in nothing but the thong, he found that his new attire did in fact increase income.
John wanted to continue to pursue this interesting adventure with the comfortable women's clothes. He traded the rest of his accessories with various other women, some of them strippers, and others were just all too kind. The was for the good of mankind. He slipped back into the dressing room to complete the look and eyed over the other girl's makeup curiously. Without a second thought, he sat down in front of the mirror and put several products on his face. He was pink and white and red all over, but nothing felt better. When he next went onto the dance floor, they cheered. He needed more.
John retreated again after earning a large sum of money. But the other strippers weren't so fond of him anymore. They were jealous that he was making more money than them when he'd just gotten there. They bitched at him, and one slapped him after some arguing. Knowing this could be dangerous, and he was a superhero, newly born in this skin, John knew he had to save the world. He reached into his thong and pulled out a gun--yes, a gun--tiny, but deadly, and aimed it at the stripper with long red curls. "If you don't want to die, you'll shut your face and give me your wig," he threatened. The other strippers scampered off in their heels. Finally, the leader of the villainous gang pulled her wig off with a sigh, handing it over. With no real hair to make a show, she was defeated. She kicked off her heels and started crying as she left the club in Miami, going to her papi. Successful, John pulled on the wig, looking himself over in the mirror with success. He turned around and looked at the heels, slipping them on as well and doing a small test walk. He was no longer John. He admired the colours he'd acquired, and as he looked for some inspiration for a new name, it came to him in an instant. As she--the very essence of it all was taking over her--walked out into the club, one of the men whistled at her, and her name came up in blinking lights. When she started to dance, they announced not John, but Cherry Pie, hero of this world, saviour of man, and stripper for justice.
Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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Second Chance // The Captains
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