if i look back, i am lost
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
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@agentmetis-blog
(Idk how to do read more on mobile help I suck) ————— Laughing but not rlly cos it’s not funny but considering my continued foiled attempts at rping I at the last minute have had to travel to deal with some stuff for uni this year so I’ll be away for at least 2 days now lmao wtf but anyways, when I get back I’ll try and think up some sweet plotting ideas and yeah ~~~
Lethe had felt it inevitable that Olympus face a grand threat like ICHOR; they’d been cruising too long, little missions here or there, that the time for something large-scale such as this was ripe. Not, of course, that she wanted this to happen. She grimaced, thinking of the many deaths these idiots had caused. The agents had known they would die for the Initiative, but the bloodshed seemed needless.
Packing sparsely, everything strapped against her person, Lethe took her gun and placed it in its holster. She had not had to use it in a long time; she did not relish the thought of having blood on her hands. It washed off, but she could never forget.
She left her quarters with a grimace, eyes on the watch for agents. Lethe cursed herself for not observing everyone more closely, but she had her suspicions on whom to look out for.
To say the situation was stressful would have been a fairly gross understatement. Metis could quite easily say that the uncertainty that came with unknown identities of double agents was something that she’d pay big bucks for to never have to experience again. It was this horrible twirling feeling in her chest; a dark weight of loneliness in the sense that logically, there was no person she should fully trust at this point. The distant gunshot echoes that bounced off walls were on replay in her head, signals that the atmosphere was choking with injury and death. So much for being desensitised. Moving hesitantly into the corridoor, the girl spotted an agent a few metres further ahead, eyes scanning the surroundings rapidly in a way that an ICHOR agent would not. Storing her weapon, she sighed, dark eyes fixed woefully on the other female’s face. “I certainly did not expect the day to go this way...”
Big Red Button || self-para
HQ was mayhem and so the linguist found herself running through the panic stricken halls of Olympus in order to find any means of safety. With her hand pressed firmly against the pistol in her holster in case of any altercations, she quickly pressed her back against the cool wall at the sudden sound of voices. She had done a good job at avoiding other agents in her short trek, but now her mind was becoming clouded with sudden fear. Were the agents on the other side on her side or would they be against her? Before Khione could come to a conclusion, she heard the unmistakeable click of a gun and cold metal pressed against the back of her head. Her body immediately went rigid and her eyes widened as she stiffly raised her hands over her head in surrender. What possessed her to do it, she didn’t know; but she bravely turned around and faced her attacker. “I– ..please don’t.”
Metis peeked around the corner and wasn’t quite prepared to see an agent with a weapon in direct contact with the back of their head as they were held by who she quickly noticed was a complete stranger. They were currently in the act of taunting and gloating over the power that came with holding another in complete submission. If she’d learned two things in life, it was 1. In certain situations, never bother gloating, and 2. hesitation can be dangerous. Thankfully, over time, her ability to think quickly and process a situation had greatly improved, but she perhaps could have gone a different direction in the way she chose to react. Killing was always a lot lower on her need-to-do list though...
Nevertheless, neither of the two were aware of her coming, mostly because she wasn’t in their line of sight, but also because she moved so fast that they didn’t have a chance to notice. In less than 5 seconds, the attacker was unconscious on the floor and trapped with a strange body-conforming restraint device that she’d created a few weeks prior. A satisfied hum and soft mumble of “have wanted to tried that for a while” accompanied her movement towards the other female as her eyes checked for injuries, lips tilting into a worried frown . “Are you ok?”
Pygmalion was a glad that at least someone at the top of the mountain seemed to be making some sense. When she heard Chronos’ orders, she couldn’t pack her shit fast enough. She wasn’t anybody’s hero and she didn’t need to be. The woman was secure enough thinking of herself as a petty criminal from Philly with a penchant for caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was now about to get the hell out of it once more. Self-preservation was a skill she was proud to have.
There were agents she would have fought for. Maybe even taken a bullet for, if she had to. But she hoped to God that those closest to her had the good sense to try and make it out. This building, on the other hand, was just a building. And it held some precious memories and even more precious secrets, but she’d be damned if she died for it.
She strapped on her Teflon vest– under her clothes, as she wouldn’t be inviting any shots to the back of her head. Her guns were loaded more quickly than they’d ever been in training and tucked into her double shoulder holster. After the extra clips were jammed unceremoniously into her pockets, she took off.
Her eyes were peeled mostly for any threats, but partially for members of her team. Andromeda had been in the Initiative a year longer than her, but Pygmalion was the oldest. She couldn’t fight (and God, did she try) the irritating pangs of responsibility.
The sound of feet around the corner elicited a jolt of hope, but that was soon washed away by fear. It could have been one of her friends. Or it could have an ICHOR agent. Or worse…it could have been both simultaneously. She drew one of her guns, pressing her back against the wall, ready to shoot if need be.
“Christ, this is the wrong time to be hungover.”
Metis slipped silently through the corridor, her lithe body moulding into flat surfaces and dissolving into shadows as she aimed towards finding an exit out of this newly classified death trap. She was armed lightly after consideration that this was an evacuation -- speed was a priority. Regardless, she was still more than ready to attack or defend herself should the occasion arise. Various knives and light technology were positioned in strategic places on her person, and her right hand gripped the FNH Five-SeveN MK2 that was with her almost permanently.
Deciding to quicken her pace, she momentarily forgot she wasn’t wearing her usual shoes - she hadn’t changed from the protective steel-capped boots she liked to use in her studio/lab space. So it wasn’t really a surprise when she spotted a figure out of the corner of her eye, gun drawn and ready to fire a bullet at a moments notice. “ это пиздец [this is fucked up]...” the girl muttered, before sliding to a halt and flattening herself against the opposite wall in a similar position to the other agent. “Er...I come in peace...” It was almost comical how she had no idea how to react in such a situation, yet her statement was downright genuine.
”черт побери [Damn it!] Why are you not working? 미치겠다! [This is driving me crazy]” Metis was not having a good time. She’d been working on this project all day and still wasn’t happy - the new covert audio bugs she’d developed weren’t picking up the clarity of sound she would have liked. Having placed them around HQ earlier, the aim was a little fine-tuning, but now it felt as if the headphones were permanently glued to her ears from having been there so long. The girl groaned as she stood, rolling out the tension in her body as she headed toward the kitchen to retrieve one of the pesky pieces of technology. Swinging the fridge door open, her fingers immediately grasped a jar of salsa which she returned after nimbly switching its lid with an almost identical match from her back pocket. “You sir, have been causing me much trouble today,” she scolded the object sternly, so focused on glaring at it that she initially didn’t realise words were being directed at her. “ой [oops] Sorry?”
“Precisely! And I’m dealing with hazardous materials here! They could very well explode and ruin Deimos’ handsome face, but who would get the blame? Me.”
“We should not have to tolerate such misconduct. We should go on strike. Alternatively I could try and come up with some way to deter the culprits...maybe something utilising opposing magnetic fields...hmm. Otherwise you could orchestrate a contained non-harmful explosion - of itching powder maybe?”
“For the New Year, I’m gonna lose weight. I’m going to exercise everyday. I’m going to create a routine and stick to it… Is that cake?”
“No, nope. This is not cake. It is...a...very, very healthy and tasteless...piece of something full of...healthy things. Disgusting. I am only eating it because it was going to be thrown into the garbage, and we do not want food to go to waste, do we?”
Dolos slowly raised a single eyebrow as he listened to the stranger’s story. Thoughts of his mom slipped away and he crossed his arms over his chest, a smile pulling at his lips. “That sounds like Athena. She promised me an order of mozzarella sticks a week ago.” Dolos graciously took the bowl of fried cheese, laughing at the nickname. “I’m Agent Dolos,” he said, extending his hand to the girl. “The whole ‘Big D’ thing is kind of a joke– my own, of course, but. Yeah, most people just call me Dolos. And you would be…?” He tilted his head, questioning the girl before him.
“Ah, so that is what they are” she mused before shaking the offerred hand. “Pleasure. I’m Metis” she replied, still clueless to the joke, but by now she’d already let it go. Locating another chair, she pulled it over and flopped onto it with enthusiasm. “So, what is it you get up to here at this wonderful place we call work--and home, I suppose...?” she questioned, bringing a knee up to rest her chin on. “You seemed to be working fairly hard on something when I interrupted, uhm, sorry about that. This Athena did seem quite intent on me delivering these sticks of mozarella to you, however,” Metis half-smiled sheepishly, starting to fiddle with a few small wires and pieces of plastic she’d unconsciously pulled from her pocket.
Dolos stared at the sketchpad in front of him, half-finished portrait looking back at him. It didn’t look right, didn’t match the clear memory of her face in his head. Mom. Dolos didn’t think about her often and when he did he always came close to tears, but when he did, he drew her, trying to keep the memory of her alive. He was so deep in thought, he didn’t hear anyone come up behind him until their shadow fell over the paper. Startled, Dolos sat up, spinning around in his chair. “Sorry, didn’t hear you come in. Can I help you?”
“Hi ho hello,” Metis popped through the door, disrupting the poor agent who started in his chair. She held a bowl tightly in her hand as she tilted her head a little sheepishly. “So, someone told me to bring you these...things...” a mozarella stick pinched at the end by two fingers was held up in the air and thoroughly inspected. “They had to rush off unexpectedly and they practically threw them at me and told me to get them to big D,” eyebrows scrunch and she shakes her head unimpressed. “I did not know who that was or where to go and almost everyone I asked just laughed at me. I got here eventually obviously but I am honestly just so confused” she huffed, the hand holding the piece of food gesturing wildly throughout her explanation. Sighing, she finished her rant and held out the plate. “Ok so you are the big D, correct? I do not remember you by that name.”
“Okay, I know this looks like chaos - no pun intended - but every pile of shit has it’s own place and if anyone has touched one of said shit piles, I will break everything you love…”
“Hmm so I suppose I can exclude you from my list of potential suspects who have been spreading nasty gossip about the state of my workspace. The kettle cannot call the pot black, no? Regardless, I would have thought that by now there was a very clear understanding of no-touchy rules considering how often it results in some sort of violent revenge.”
“The only test subjects should be in a lab thank you. I agree it’s visual quality is very likable, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous when it flies at my head.”
“Well, what are we waiting for? We can go to my lab now. My aim has been good lately. I would let you test it on me, but I need to keep an eye on the mechanisms when it’s working, and if it malfunctions I need to know how to fix it...Oh wait, that doesn’t sound too good does it. Maybe I should try on a non-human subject first?”
The nightmares had gotten worse lately, making Erebus sleep deprived in the worst possible way. A yawn escaped her lips along with a groan as she was sifting through her mountain of paperwork and weapon parts. Looking up, she heard someone come in and sat up at once. “No no, its fine, come on in. What do you need?”
Metis burst into the room, intent on finding her misplaced metal lubricant. “Oops. Oooh is that coffee?” Easily distracted, she skipped to the table, swiping the mug and taking a sip. “Eugh, no sugar.” Replacing it hurriedly, she tried to remember what she’d come in for. “I was just looking for--hey, your eyes look really red...” she leant forward to inspect them, almost nose to nose with the woman. “Are you sick?”
“absolutely not, you’ll have to drag me out screaming if you expect me to bloody do that.”
“Pretty please? You just have to stand still for a second while I test it. Imagine, you’ll have the honour of being the first test subject for my custom throwing knife - don’t you think it’s super cool that it looks like a pencil?”
