Do not tell my current employers about this account, okay?
WARNINGS
I AM A MINOR. Cussing is fine, just please don't interact if you're a MDNI account. No nsfw ever.
Although yes, the mod is minor, this is not going to be PG-13, and no where close to PG. If you don't like that, please leave.
HEAVILY HEADCANONED VERSION OF BUCK
Since we have little information about Buck as of the day im writing this I'm going off of my head canons. For more information on my view on this; click here.
As the show develops my Buck will change accordingly to act more like him in the show.
All dividers by @strangergraphics
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Buck Cashman
Alias: Agent Bullet
Nickname: "No thanks."
Pronouns: He/Him
Occupation: Assassin
Age: 32
Height: 5'10
Gender/Sex: Cis male
Sexuality: Straight
Abilities: Slight super strength, heavily trained in aim and agility.
Personality: Bros just surviving so he low-key lacks emotions rn. Very money focused and dedicated. Extremely loyal.
Mbti: ISFJ
LANCE.
Lance is Buck's son. This man DOES NOT PLAY ABOUT HIM. If your character hurts or messes with Lance without talking to me...im giving Buck god mode. Leave my father alone.
Lance is literally the last thing Buck has at the moment. Saying his wife kinda just disappeared and he cant hold a job down so now hes an assassin he just wants his son.
Buck isn't the best dad but Lance adores him and lord is he trying.
BACKSTORY
After Gloria (his wife) ran away from the pressure of everything -- most of which Buck did not know about -- he was left to take care of their son Lance. However he was unable to hold down a job so he became an assassin once again except for random people.
He really did not want to go back, he looks for work at least aligning with his morals but was unsuccessful so he turned to the government. However hes still taking private jobs (y'all higher him he's amazing)
Blood seeped out of Dex's side as he staggered down the stairs, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. He couldn't head back to his apartment. Not now. Not in this state. His neighbor took her nightly walk at this time. His head pounded from an earlier hit from an AVTF officer's baton. Dex coughed, throwing the building's door open as he wheezed for fresh air. The building reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Fisk would tighten his security after this. Dex had rendered the new AVTF rendezvous spot useless. Nothing more than a husk of the grime that New York was piled under.
Dex made quick work of the officer approaching him. The last throwing knife went flying into the officer's forehead, and he stepped over the dead body, grunting. His palms were wet with his own blood, his shirt practically glued to the bullet wound. A nearby apartment complex caught his eye. He needed to let the wound alleviate for a bit, anyway.
A quiet huff left his split lips as he limped all the way to the apartment complex. He climbed the metal stairs with as much energy his body allowed him, then broke the window to a random apartment two floors up. He could care less about appearances. Dex cursed under his breath, swinging each leg into the stranger's apartment before landing with a thump. He didn't care about the blood trailing behind him. The blood staining the floor and smeared by his boots.
He did care, however, when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Dex tried to hobble away to the stranger's bathroom, but it was too late.
The entire apartment is filled with small learning toys and bluey merchandise scattered in no attempt to look pretty.
Agent buck...sometimes called Agent bullet was trying to get his fussy toddler to sleep. Lance was having none of that. He insisted on playing with his toys or having a book read to him, but Buck has had a full day of killing people for the mayor. His son knew as much as the public if not less. "My Daddy works for the mayor!" Lance would brag to his friends at kindergarten.
Buck at the sound of footsteps shoves a toy into his son's lap "You can play with those as long as you want."
He practically tip toes out to the other room, hand on his hidden gun until the door is shut and locked from the outside. He holds the gun at the figure.
He couldn't figure out who the man was. Buck assumed Fisk finally figured out what he was doing with the vigilantes and decided to end the stream of information.
Dex hacked up blood and wheezed out a breath, his eyes trained onto the gun held up at him. 'Fuckin-A,' he thought. He figured he'd have to kill this guy if he tried anything. When he realized it was none other than Buck, Dex took a step closer, his boots dragging against the hardwood as he approached him. He removed his mask with some trouble, then held his hands up, his stomach flexing as blood continued to seep out of his bullet wound.
Dex coughed out the man's name, a desperate lilt at the end. "Buck."
Dex's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, shuddering at the loss of blood. Dex felt like a dead man. This wasn't supposed to happen. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself up against the wall closest to him.
"Dex? Why the fucking hell are you in my house??" He puts his gun away and turns on the lamp with a press of his foot. Buck kicks away the toys and shuts the widow, blinds, then blackout curtains before checking the lock on his sons bedroom.
Buck takes himself to Ben "Do you need help, bullseye?"
"Oh I don't know," he sarcastically replied, coughing again. "Jus' decided I'd take a stroll through the neighborhood."
Dex watched Buck as he blocked the city out of his apartment. He was hiding this. Anyone would. Dex thought it amusing that Fisk's right-hand man hadn't killed him by now. Of course, he'd heard of the rumors — about Buck being secretly disloyal to Fisk. He smirked despite the throbbing pain in his side, feeling arrogant. The feeling quickly subsided, however, and he silently nodded at Buck's question.
"Say please at least." He teases. Fortunately lance had an accident yesterday and Buck didn't have time to put everything away because he's been putting in extra hours.
He grabs the pack from the bathroom counter before approaching again, still waiting for the word. "My toddler can say it, so can you."
Dex blinked, guffawed by Buck's request. He tilted his head, his palm pressing harder against his bullet wound. He was stubborn. He straightened out instead and eyed the pack in Buck's hand like a predator wanting to strike.
"Fucking—" Dex cut himself off, frustrated. He glared at Buck and relented, knowing if he stalled too long, he'd pass out. He already felt his body slowing, his mind spotting. He gritted the word out between his bloodied teeth. "Please."
"You got it!" He kneels beside the man, pulling out the kit he didn't even bother to zip up last night.
"You want the full spa treatment or just a stitch up?" He already knew the answer but if he's going to he betraying the mayor, might as well have fun with it. He finds the way past the suit, despite it being skin tight and begins stitching the wound.
Dex held back an irritated sigh as Buck knelt down beside him. He craned his head back and looked around the apartment, cataloging all the furniture and decor into his mind. He gave a hum as a response at first, distracted by the toys on the floor. Right. He had a kid.
"Jus' a stitch up," Dex answered properly.
Dex held his compression shirt up, watching Buck clean the wound. His face stayed relaxed, almost emotionless in the contrasting lighting of the lamplight. He breathed in, attempting casual conversation.
Dex fidgeted with his free hand, wincing a little as he felt the needle and thread piercing his skin. He hated this. Needed to get back to his place. He had a routine to fulfill. The thoughts continued to plague his mind, only aggravating him more. He had calculated wrong. He'd done good work, but now his neighbor will question his state and reasons for being up later.
"Well they're grumpy. God I hope he doesn't wake up." Saying the state Lance was in, theres a guarantee hes passed out with his toys on his face by now. But he did have a habit of waking up in the middle of the night.
Dex, being the piece of shit he was, grinned ear to ear. "Hey I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He doesn't watch the news, does he?"
He often found the news amusing. It was entertainment instead of what the news should actually be. Informative. True. Really, they always made him look more unhinged than he actually was. 'I'm perfectly sane,' he thought. 'I have a compass. I have my mind back.'
"No. Too much bullshit happens in new york. Its not good for a toddler." He didn't want Lance to see what his employer was up to. He's been teaching the boy to be a good person but everything Fisk and Buck do is the opposite.
"But workin' for the mayor is?" Dex questioned, knowing full well the reason. He just wanted to piss Buck off. It'd get him out of here faster. His hazel eyes shifted to stare at a baseball on the floor, and he tilted his head, almost curious.
"Don't you think telling him now would stop the pain of him finding out years later?"
"Hes four years old. I'm not going to tell him his dad..." He changes to a whisper as if afraid lance was going to develop super hearing in this very moment "kills people"
"I'll get out of this stupid job then tell him when hes older." Buck was sure what to do but telling Lance what he did to live in this expensive city was not something he was going to do.
Blood seeped out of Dex's side as he staggered down the stairs, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. He couldn't head back to his apartment. Not now. Not in this state. His neighbor took her nightly walk at this time. His head pounded from an earlier hit from an AVTF officer's baton. Dex coughed, throwing the building's door open as he wheezed for fresh air. The building reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Fisk would tighten his security after this. Dex had rendered the new AVTF rendezvous spot useless. Nothing more than a husk of the grime that New York was piled under.
Dex made quick work of the officer approaching him. The last throwing knife went flying into the officer's forehead, and he stepped over the dead body, grunting. His palms were wet with his own blood, his shirt practically glued to the bullet wound. A nearby apartment complex caught his eye. He needed to let the wound alleviate for a bit, anyway.
A quiet huff left his split lips as he limped all the way to the apartment complex. He climbed the metal stairs with as much energy his body allowed him, then broke the window to a random apartment two floors up. He could care less about appearances. Dex cursed under his breath, swinging each leg into the stranger's apartment before landing with a thump. He didn't care about the blood trailing behind him. The blood staining the floor and smeared by his boots.
He did care, however, when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Dex tried to hobble away to the stranger's bathroom, but it was too late.
The entire apartment is filled with small learning toys and bluey merchandise scattered in no attempt to look pretty.
Agent buck...sometimes called Agent bullet was trying to get his fussy toddler to sleep. Lance was having none of that. He insisted on playing with his toys or having a book read to him, but Buck has had a full day of killing people for the mayor. His son knew as much as the public if not less. "My Daddy works for the mayor!" Lance would brag to his friends at kindergarten.
Buck at the sound of footsteps shoves a toy into his son's lap "You can play with those as long as you want."
He practically tip toes out to the other room, hand on his hidden gun until the door is shut and locked from the outside. He holds the gun at the figure.
He couldn't figure out who the man was. Buck assumed Fisk finally figured out what he was doing with the vigilantes and decided to end the stream of information.
Dex hacked up blood and wheezed out a breath, his eyes trained onto the gun held up at him. 'Fuckin-A,' he thought. He figured he'd have to kill this guy if he tried anything. When he realized it was none other than Buck, Dex took a step closer, his boots dragging against the hardwood as he approached him. He removed his mask with some trouble, then held his hands up, his stomach flexing as blood continued to seep out of his bullet wound.
Dex coughed out the man's name, a desperate lilt at the end. "Buck."
Dex's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, shuddering at the loss of blood. Dex felt like a dead man. This wasn't supposed to happen. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself up against the wall closest to him.
"Dex? Why the fucking hell are you in my house??" He puts his gun away and turns on the lamp with a press of his foot. Buck kicks away the toys and shuts the widow, blinds, then blackout curtains before checking the lock on his sons bedroom.
Buck takes himself to Ben "Do you need help, bullseye?"
"Oh I don't know," he sarcastically replied, coughing again. "Jus' decided I'd take a stroll through the neighborhood."
Dex watched Buck as he blocked the city out of his apartment. He was hiding this. Anyone would. Dex thought it amusing that Fisk's right-hand man hadn't killed him by now. Of course, he'd heard of the rumors — about Buck being secretly disloyal to Fisk. He smirked despite the throbbing pain in his side, feeling arrogant. The feeling quickly subsided, however, and he silently nodded at Buck's question.
"Say please at least." He teases. Fortunately lance had an accident yesterday and Buck didn't have time to put everything away because he's been putting in extra hours.
He grabs the pack from the bathroom counter before approaching again, still waiting for the word. "My toddler can say it, so can you."
Dex blinked, guffawed by Buck's request. He tilted his head, his palm pressing harder against his bullet wound. He was stubborn. He straightened out instead and eyed the pack in Buck's hand like a predator wanting to strike.
"Fucking—" Dex cut himself off, frustrated. He glared at Buck and relented, knowing if he stalled too long, he'd pass out. He already felt his body slowing, his mind spotting. He gritted the word out between his bloodied teeth. "Please."
"You got it!" He kneels beside the man, pulling out the kit he didn't even bother to zip up last night.
"You want the full spa treatment or just a stitch up?" He already knew the answer but if he's going to he betraying the mayor, might as well have fun with it. He finds the way past the suit, despite it being skin tight and begins stitching the wound.
Dex held back an irritated sigh as Buck knelt down beside him. He craned his head back and looked around the apartment, cataloging all the furniture and decor into his mind. He gave a hum as a response at first, distracted by the toys on the floor. Right. He had a kid.
"Jus' a stitch up," Dex answered properly.
Dex held his compression shirt up, watching Buck clean the wound. His face stayed relaxed, almost emotionless in the contrasting lighting of the lamplight. He breathed in, attempting casual conversation.
Dex fidgeted with his free hand, wincing a little as he felt the needle and thread piercing his skin. He hated this. Needed to get back to his place. He had a routine to fulfill. The thoughts continued to plague his mind, only aggravating him more. He had calculated wrong. He'd done good work, but now his neighbor will question his state and reasons for being up later.
"Well they're grumpy. God I hope he doesn't wake up." Saying the state Lance was in, theres a guarantee hes passed out with his toys on his face by now. But he did have a habit of waking up in the middle of the night.
Dex, being the piece of shit he was, grinned ear to ear. "Hey I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He doesn't watch the news, does he?"
He often found the news amusing. It was entertainment instead of what the news should actually be. Informative. True. Really, they always made him look more unhinged than he actually was. 'I'm perfectly sane,' he thought. 'I have a compass. I have my mind back.'
"No. Too much bullshit happens in new york. Its not good for a toddler." He didn't want Lance to see what his employer was up to. He's been teaching the boy to be a good person but everything Fisk and Buck do is the opposite.
Blood seeped out of Dex's side as he staggered down the stairs, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. He couldn't head back to his apartment. Not now. Not in this state. His neighbor took her nightly walk at this time. His head pounded from an earlier hit from an AVTF officer's baton. Dex coughed, throwing the building's door open as he wheezed for fresh air. The building reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Fisk would tighten his security after this. Dex had rendered the new AVTF rendezvous spot useless. Nothing more than a husk of the grime that New York was piled under.
Dex made quick work of the officer approaching him. The last throwing knife went flying into the officer's forehead, and he stepped over the dead body, grunting. His palms were wet with his own blood, his shirt practically glued to the bullet wound. A nearby apartment complex caught his eye. He needed to let the wound alleviate for a bit, anyway.
A quiet huff left his split lips as he limped all the way to the apartment complex. He climbed the metal stairs with as much energy his body allowed him, then broke the window to a random apartment two floors up. He could care less about appearances. Dex cursed under his breath, swinging each leg into the stranger's apartment before landing with a thump. He didn't care about the blood trailing behind him. The blood staining the floor and smeared by his boots.
He did care, however, when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Dex tried to hobble away to the stranger's bathroom, but it was too late.
The entire apartment is filled with small learning toys and bluey merchandise scattered in no attempt to look pretty.
Agent buck...sometimes called Agent bullet was trying to get his fussy toddler to sleep. Lance was having none of that. He insisted on playing with his toys or having a book read to him, but Buck has had a full day of killing people for the mayor. His son knew as much as the public if not less. "My Daddy works for the mayor!" Lance would brag to his friends at kindergarten.
Buck at the sound of footsteps shoves a toy into his son's lap "You can play with those as long as you want."
He practically tip toes out to the other room, hand on his hidden gun until the door is shut and locked from the outside. He holds the gun at the figure.
He couldn't figure out who the man was. Buck assumed Fisk finally figured out what he was doing with the vigilantes and decided to end the stream of information.
Dex hacked up blood and wheezed out a breath, his eyes trained onto the gun held up at him. 'Fuckin-A,' he thought. He figured he'd have to kill this guy if he tried anything. When he realized it was none other than Buck, Dex took a step closer, his boots dragging against the hardwood as he approached him. He removed his mask with some trouble, then held his hands up, his stomach flexing as blood continued to seep out of his bullet wound.
Dex coughed out the man's name, a desperate lilt at the end. "Buck."
Dex's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, shuddering at the loss of blood. Dex felt like a dead man. This wasn't supposed to happen. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself up against the wall closest to him.
"Dex? Why the fucking hell are you in my house??" He puts his gun away and turns on the lamp with a press of his foot. Buck kicks away the toys and shuts the widow, blinds, then blackout curtains before checking the lock on his sons bedroom.
Buck takes himself to Ben "Do you need help, bullseye?"
"Oh I don't know," he sarcastically replied, coughing again. "Jus' decided I'd take a stroll through the neighborhood."
Dex watched Buck as he blocked the city out of his apartment. He was hiding this. Anyone would. Dex thought it amusing that Fisk's right-hand man hadn't killed him by now. Of course, he'd heard of the rumors — about Buck being secretly disloyal to Fisk. He smirked despite the throbbing pain in his side, feeling arrogant. The feeling quickly subsided, however, and he silently nodded at Buck's question.
"Say please at least." He teases. Fortunately lance had an accident yesterday and Buck didn't have time to put everything away because he's been putting in extra hours.
He grabs the pack from the bathroom counter before approaching again, still waiting for the word. "My toddler can say it, so can you."
Dex blinked, guffawed by Buck's request. He tilted his head, his palm pressing harder against his bullet wound. He was stubborn. He straightened out instead and eyed the pack in Buck's hand like a predator wanting to strike.
"Fucking—" Dex cut himself off, frustrated. He glared at Buck and relented, knowing if he stalled too long, he'd pass out. He already felt his body slowing, his mind spotting. He gritted the word out between his bloodied teeth. "Please."
"You got it!" He kneels beside the man, pulling out the kit he didn't even bother to zip up last night.
"You want the full spa treatment or just a stitch up?" He already knew the answer but if he's going to he betraying the mayor, might as well have fun with it. He finds the way past the suit, despite it being skin tight and begins stitching the wound.
Dex held back an irritated sigh as Buck knelt down beside him. He craned his head back and looked around the apartment, cataloging all the furniture and decor into his mind. He gave a hum as a response at first, distracted by the toys on the floor. Right. He had a kid.
"Jus' a stitch up," Dex answered properly.
Dex held his compression shirt up, watching Buck clean the wound. His face stayed relaxed, almost emotionless in the contrasting lighting of the lamplight. He breathed in, attempting casual conversation.
Dex fidgeted with his free hand, wincing a little as he felt the needle and thread piercing his skin. He hated this. Needed to get back to his place. He had a routine to fulfill. The thoughts continued to plague his mind, only aggravating him more. He had calculated wrong. He'd done good work, but now his neighbor will question his state and reasons for being up later.
"Well they're grumpy. God I hope he doesn't wake up." Saying the state Lance was in, theres a guarantee hes passed out with his toys on his face by now. But he did have a habit of waking up in the middle of the night.
Blood seeped out of Dex's side as he staggered down the stairs, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. He couldn't head back to his apartment. Not now. Not in this state. His neighbor took her nightly walk at this time. His head pounded from an earlier hit from an AVTF officer's baton. Dex coughed, throwing the building's door open as he wheezed for fresh air. The building reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Fisk would tighten his security after this. Dex had rendered the new AVTF rendezvous spot useless. Nothing more than a husk of the grime that New York was piled under.
Dex made quick work of the officer approaching him. The last throwing knife went flying into the officer's forehead, and he stepped over the dead body, grunting. His palms were wet with his own blood, his shirt practically glued to the bullet wound. A nearby apartment complex caught his eye. He needed to let the wound alleviate for a bit, anyway.
A quiet huff left his split lips as he limped all the way to the apartment complex. He climbed the metal stairs with as much energy his body allowed him, then broke the window to a random apartment two floors up. He could care less about appearances. Dex cursed under his breath, swinging each leg into the stranger's apartment before landing with a thump. He didn't care about the blood trailing behind him. The blood staining the floor and smeared by his boots.
He did care, however, when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Dex tried to hobble away to the stranger's bathroom, but it was too late.
The entire apartment is filled with small learning toys and bluey merchandise scattered in no attempt to look pretty.
Agent buck...sometimes called Agent bullet was trying to get his fussy toddler to sleep. Lance was having none of that. He insisted on playing with his toys or having a book read to him, but Buck has had a full day of killing people for the mayor. His son knew as much as the public if not less. "My Daddy works for the mayor!" Lance would brag to his friends at kindergarten.
Buck at the sound of footsteps shoves a toy into his son's lap "You can play with those as long as you want."
He practically tip toes out to the other room, hand on his hidden gun until the door is shut and locked from the outside. He holds the gun at the figure.
He couldn't figure out who the man was. Buck assumed Fisk finally figured out what he was doing with the vigilantes and decided to end the stream of information.
Dex hacked up blood and wheezed out a breath, his eyes trained onto the gun held up at him. 'Fuckin-A,' he thought. He figured he'd have to kill this guy if he tried anything. When he realized it was none other than Buck, Dex took a step closer, his boots dragging against the hardwood as he approached him. He removed his mask with some trouble, then held his hands up, his stomach flexing as blood continued to seep out of his bullet wound.
Dex coughed out the man's name, a desperate lilt at the end. "Buck."
Dex's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, shuddering at the loss of blood. Dex felt like a dead man. This wasn't supposed to happen. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself up against the wall closest to him.
"Dex? Why the fucking hell are you in my house??" He puts his gun away and turns on the lamp with a press of his foot. Buck kicks away the toys and shuts the widow, blinds, then blackout curtains before checking the lock on his sons bedroom.
Buck takes himself to Ben "Do you need help, bullseye?"
"Oh I don't know," he sarcastically replied, coughing again. "Jus' decided I'd take a stroll through the neighborhood."
Dex watched Buck as he blocked the city out of his apartment. He was hiding this. Anyone would. Dex thought it amusing that Fisk's right-hand man hadn't killed him by now. Of course, he'd heard of the rumors — about Buck being secretly disloyal to Fisk. He smirked despite the throbbing pain in his side, feeling arrogant. The feeling quickly subsided, however, and he silently nodded at Buck's question.
"Say please at least." He teases. Fortunately lance had an accident yesterday and Buck didn't have time to put everything away because he's been putting in extra hours.
He grabs the pack from the bathroom counter before approaching again, still waiting for the word. "My toddler can say it, so can you."
Dex blinked, guffawed by Buck's request. He tilted his head, his palm pressing harder against his bullet wound. He was stubborn. He straightened out instead and eyed the pack in Buck's hand like a predator wanting to strike.
"Fucking—" Dex cut himself off, frustrated. He glared at Buck and relented, knowing if he stalled too long, he'd pass out. He already felt his body slowing, his mind spotting. He gritted the word out between his bloodied teeth. "Please."
"You got it!" He kneels beside the man, pulling out the kit he didn't even bother to zip up last night.
"You want the full spa treatment or just a stitch up?" He already knew the answer but if he's going to he betraying the mayor, might as well have fun with it. He finds the way past the suit, despite it being skin tight and begins stitching the wound.
Dex held back an irritated sigh as Buck knelt down beside him. He craned his head back and looked around the apartment, cataloging all the furniture and decor into his mind. He gave a hum as a response at first, distracted by the toys on the floor. Right. He had a kid.
"Jus' a stitch up," Dex answered properly.
Dex held his compression shirt up, watching Buck clean the wound. His face stayed relaxed, almost emotionless in the contrasting lighting of the lamplight. He breathed in, attempting casual conversation.
Blood seeped out of Dex's side as he staggered down the stairs, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. He couldn't head back to his apartment. Not now. Not in this state. His neighbor took her nightly walk at this time. His head pounded from an earlier hit from an AVTF officer's baton. Dex coughed, throwing the building's door open as he wheezed for fresh air. The building reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Fisk would tighten his security after this. Dex had rendered the new AVTF rendezvous spot useless. Nothing more than a husk of the grime that New York was piled under.
Dex made quick work of the officer approaching him. The last throwing knife went flying into the officer's forehead, and he stepped over the dead body, grunting. His palms were wet with his own blood, his shirt practically glued to the bullet wound. A nearby apartment complex caught his eye. He needed to let the wound alleviate for a bit, anyway.
A quiet huff left his split lips as he limped all the way to the apartment complex. He climbed the metal stairs with as much energy his body allowed him, then broke the window to a random apartment two floors up. He could care less about appearances. Dex cursed under his breath, swinging each leg into the stranger's apartment before landing with a thump. He didn't care about the blood trailing behind him. The blood staining the floor and smeared by his boots.
He did care, however, when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Dex tried to hobble away to the stranger's bathroom, but it was too late.
The entire apartment is filled with small learning toys and bluey merchandise scattered in no attempt to look pretty.
Agent buck...sometimes called Agent bullet was trying to get his fussy toddler to sleep. Lance was having none of that. He insisted on playing with his toys or having a book read to him, but Buck has had a full day of killing people for the mayor. His son knew as much as the public if not less. "My Daddy works for the mayor!" Lance would brag to his friends at kindergarten.
Buck at the sound of footsteps shoves a toy into his son's lap "You can play with those as long as you want."
He practically tip toes out to the other room, hand on his hidden gun until the door is shut and locked from the outside. He holds the gun at the figure.
He couldn't figure out who the man was. Buck assumed Fisk finally figured out what he was doing with the vigilantes and decided to end the stream of information.
Dex hacked up blood and wheezed out a breath, his eyes trained onto the gun held up at him. 'Fuckin-A,' he thought. He figured he'd have to kill this guy if he tried anything. When he realized it was none other than Buck, Dex took a step closer, his boots dragging against the hardwood as he approached him. He removed his mask with some trouble, then held his hands up, his stomach flexing as blood continued to seep out of his bullet wound.
Dex coughed out the man's name, a desperate lilt at the end. "Buck."
Dex's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, shuddering at the loss of blood. Dex felt like a dead man. This wasn't supposed to happen. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself up against the wall closest to him.
"Dex? Why the fucking hell are you in my house??" He puts his gun away and turns on the lamp with a press of his foot. Buck kicks away the toys and shuts the widow, blinds, then blackout curtains before checking the lock on his sons bedroom.
Buck takes himself to Ben "Do you need help, bullseye?"
"Oh I don't know," he sarcastically replied, coughing again. "Jus' decided I'd take a stroll through the neighborhood."
Dex watched Buck as he blocked the city out of his apartment. He was hiding this. Anyone would. Dex thought it amusing that Fisk's right-hand man hadn't killed him by now. Of course, he'd heard of the rumors — about Buck being secretly disloyal to Fisk. He smirked despite the throbbing pain in his side, feeling arrogant. The feeling quickly subsided, however, and he silently nodded at Buck's question.
"Say please at least." He teases. Fortunately lance had an accident yesterday and Buck didn't have time to put everything away because he's been putting in extra hours.
He grabs the pack from the bathroom counter before approaching again, still waiting for the word. "My toddler can say it, so can you."
Dex blinked, guffawed by Buck's request. He tilted his head, his palm pressing harder against his bullet wound. He was stubborn. He straightened out instead and eyed the pack in Buck's hand like a predator wanting to strike.
"Fucking—" Dex cut himself off, frustrated. He glared at Buck and relented, knowing if he stalled too long, he'd pass out. He already felt his body slowing, his mind spotting. He gritted the word out between his bloodied teeth. "Please."
"You got it!" He kneels beside the man, pulling out the kit he didn't even bother to zip up last night.
"You want the full spa treatment or just a stitch up?" He already knew the answer but if he's going to he betraying the mayor, might as well have fun with it. He finds the way past the suit, despite it being skin tight and begins stitching the wound.
Blood seeped out of Dex's side as he staggered down the stairs, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. He couldn't head back to his apartment. Not now. Not in this state. His neighbor took her nightly walk at this time. His head pounded from an earlier hit from an AVTF officer's baton. Dex coughed, throwing the building's door open as he wheezed for fresh air. The building reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Fisk would tighten his security after this. Dex had rendered the new AVTF rendezvous spot useless. Nothing more than a husk of the grime that New York was piled under.
Dex made quick work of the officer approaching him. The last throwing knife went flying into the officer's forehead, and he stepped over the dead body, grunting. His palms were wet with his own blood, his shirt practically glued to the bullet wound. A nearby apartment complex caught his eye. He needed to let the wound alleviate for a bit, anyway.
A quiet huff left his split lips as he limped all the way to the apartment complex. He climbed the metal stairs with as much energy his body allowed him, then broke the window to a random apartment two floors up. He could care less about appearances. Dex cursed under his breath, swinging each leg into the stranger's apartment before landing with a thump. He didn't care about the blood trailing behind him. The blood staining the floor and smeared by his boots.
He did care, however, when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Dex tried to hobble away to the stranger's bathroom, but it was too late.
The entire apartment is filled with small learning toys and bluey merchandise scattered in no attempt to look pretty.
Agent buck...sometimes called Agent bullet was trying to get his fussy toddler to sleep. Lance was having none of that. He insisted on playing with his toys or having a book read to him, but Buck has had a full day of killing people for the mayor. His son knew as much as the public if not less. "My Daddy works for the mayor!" Lance would brag to his friends at kindergarten.
Buck at the sound of footsteps shoves a toy into his son's lap "You can play with those as long as you want."
He practically tip toes out to the other room, hand on his hidden gun until the door is shut and locked from the outside. He holds the gun at the figure.
He couldn't figure out who the man was. Buck assumed Fisk finally figured out what he was doing with the vigilantes and decided to end the stream of information.
Dex hacked up blood and wheezed out a breath, his eyes trained onto the gun held up at him. 'Fuckin-A,' he thought. He figured he'd have to kill this guy if he tried anything. When he realized it was none other than Buck, Dex took a step closer, his boots dragging against the hardwood as he approached him. He removed his mask with some trouble, then held his hands up, his stomach flexing as blood continued to seep out of his bullet wound.
Dex coughed out the man's name, a desperate lilt at the end. "Buck."
Dex's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, shuddering at the loss of blood. Dex felt like a dead man. This wasn't supposed to happen. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself up against the wall closest to him.
"Dex? Why the fucking hell are you in my house??" He puts his gun away and turns on the lamp with a press of his foot. Buck kicks away the toys and shuts the widow, blinds, then blackout curtains before checking the lock on his sons bedroom.
Buck takes himself to Ben "Do you need help, bullseye?"
"Oh I don't know," he sarcastically replied, coughing again. "Jus' decided I'd take a stroll through the neighborhood."
Dex watched Buck as he blocked the city out of his apartment. He was hiding this. Anyone would. Dex thought it amusing that Fisk's right-hand man hadn't killed him by now. Of course, he'd heard of the rumors — about Buck being secretly disloyal to Fisk. He smirked despite the throbbing pain in his side, feeling arrogant. The feeling quickly subsided, however, and he silently nodded at Buck's question.
"Say please at least." He teases. Fortunately lance had an accident yesterday and Buck didn't have time to put everything away because he's been putting in extra hours.
He grabs the pack from the bathroom counter before approaching again, still waiting for the word. "My toddler can say it, so can you."
Blood seeped out of Dex's side as he staggered down the stairs, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. He couldn't head back to his apartment. Not now. Not in this state. His neighbor took her nightly walk at this time. His head pounded from an earlier hit from an AVTF officer's baton. Dex coughed, throwing the building's door open as he wheezed for fresh air. The building reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Fisk would tighten his security after this. Dex had rendered the new AVTF rendezvous spot useless. Nothing more than a husk of the grime that New York was piled under.
Dex made quick work of the officer approaching him. The last throwing knife went flying into the officer's forehead, and he stepped over the dead body, grunting. His palms were wet with his own blood, his shirt practically glued to the bullet wound. A nearby apartment complex caught his eye. He needed to let the wound alleviate for a bit, anyway.
A quiet huff left his split lips as he limped all the way to the apartment complex. He climbed the metal stairs with as much energy his body allowed him, then broke the window to a random apartment two floors up. He could care less about appearances. Dex cursed under his breath, swinging each leg into the stranger's apartment before landing with a thump. He didn't care about the blood trailing behind him. The blood staining the floor and smeared by his boots.
He did care, however, when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Dex tried to hobble away to the stranger's bathroom, but it was too late.
The entire apartment is filled with small learning toys and bluey merchandise scattered in no attempt to look pretty.
Agent buck...sometimes called Agent bullet was trying to get his fussy toddler to sleep. Lance was having none of that. He insisted on playing with his toys or having a book read to him, but Buck has had a full day of killing people for the mayor. His son knew as much as the public if not less. "My Daddy works for the mayor!" Lance would brag to his friends at kindergarten.
Buck at the sound of footsteps shoves a toy into his son's lap "You can play with those as long as you want."
He practically tip toes out to the other room, hand on his hidden gun until the door is shut and locked from the outside. He holds the gun at the figure.
He couldn't figure out who the man was. Buck assumed Fisk finally figured out what he was doing with the vigilantes and decided to end the stream of information.
Dex hacked up blood and wheezed out a breath, his eyes trained onto the gun held up at him. 'Fuckin-A,' he thought. He figured he'd have to kill this guy if he tried anything. When he realized it was none other than Buck, Dex took a step closer, his boots dragging against the hardwood as he approached him. He removed his mask with some trouble, then held his hands up, his stomach flexing as blood continued to seep out of his bullet wound.
Dex coughed out the man's name, a desperate lilt at the end. "Buck."
Dex's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, shuddering at the loss of blood. Dex felt like a dead man. This wasn't supposed to happen. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself up against the wall closest to him.
"Dex? Why the fucking hell are you in my house??" He puts his gun away and turns on the lamp with a press of his foot. Buck kicks away the toys and shuts the widow, blinds, then blackout curtains before checking the lock on his sons bedroom.
Buck takes himself to Ben "Do you need help, bullseye?"
Blood seeped out of Dex's side as he staggered down the stairs, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. He couldn't head back to his apartment. Not now. Not in this state. His neighbor took her nightly walk at this time. His head pounded from an earlier hit from an AVTF officer's baton. Dex coughed, throwing the building's door open as he wheezed for fresh air. The building reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Fisk would tighten his security after this. Dex had rendered the new AVTF rendezvous spot useless. Nothing more than a husk of the grime that New York was piled under.
Dex made quick work of the officer approaching him. The last throwing knife went flying into the officer's forehead, and he stepped over the dead body, grunting. His palms were wet with his own blood, his shirt practically glued to the bullet wound. A nearby apartment complex caught his eye. He needed to let the wound alleviate for a bit, anyway.
A quiet huff left his split lips as he limped all the way to the apartment complex. He climbed the metal stairs with as much energy his body allowed him, then broke the window to a random apartment two floors up. He could care less about appearances. Dex cursed under his breath, swinging each leg into the stranger's apartment before landing with a thump. He didn't care about the blood trailing behind him. The blood staining the floor and smeared by his boots.
He did care, however, when he heard the turn of the doorknob. Dex tried to hobble away to the stranger's bathroom, but it was too late.
The entire apartment is filled with small learning toys and bluey merchandise scattered in no attempt to look pretty.
Agent buck...sometimes called Agent bullet was trying to get his fussy toddler to sleep. Lance was having none of that. He insisted on playing with his toys or having a book read to him, but Buck has had a full day of killing people for the mayor. His son knew as much as the public if not less. "My Daddy works for the mayor!" Lance would brag to his friends at kindergarten.
Buck at the sound of footsteps shoves a toy into his son's lap "You can play with those as long as you want."
He practically tip toes out to the other room, hand on his hidden gun until the door is shut and locked from the outside. He holds the gun at the figure.
He couldn't figure out who the man was. Buck assumed Fisk finally figured out what he was doing with the vigilantes and decided to end the stream of information.
They won't, thanks to Fisk. But the public doesn't need to know about that life either. New York knows nothing about my identity except for the people who do.
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