All Jacked Up

[thegingerpowers]

[wintershock]

[jackedknives]

Jack was hugely relived when Bucky released his grip on her shirt, she was positive if anything else startling had happened he was going to throw her at them and look for an escape pod. She had had to stifled a smile at the thought of Bucky trying to pilot an escape pod back to normalcy.

After a few seconds of watching everyone talk, oddly at ease with everyone. At least the witch and the living AI, which made some amount of sense, she clapped her hands together loudly.

“Alright! Good. Nobody freakin out, thats good.” She gave a slight side glance at Rocket, who she expected to try at least something antagonistic, but he just shrugged. She guessed he was happy to be talking to someone who actually understood the work he put into the ships systems. She decided Bucky was cool enough to leave with, and took a sidebar with Gamora. Quill showed up too, she supposed he felt better to be there and pretend she wasn’t addressing Gamora like she was in charge (come on, though)

“We need...some help. An I have an idea, but....t’be honest its a very terrible idea, and works entirely on luck.” Jack noted the look on Gamora’s face when Quill added that she had come to the right place. She noted the look on both of their faces when she told them she needed to go to Knowhere.

“Listen, I still have units left, ain’t exactly much to spend em on down on that rock, and what I need and who I need is gonna be there.An you all owe me for Centauri IV” Jack was about to counter the arguments, which included the words ‘cesspool’, when she was stopped by a bewildered sounding Steve. He’d clearly stopped fawning over Bucky long enough to realize she was saying way to many things to these aliens a normal human shouldn’t be able to say. 

She was scratching her pink hair awkwardly when she turned, “ok ya know how I went to Paraguay for a few months, bout a year back? Well it was less Paraguay  and more....space.” she opened her hands like she was trying to represent space between them “I did go to Paraguay,” she started right away, before the words had even had a chance to get out of his mouth, she felt if she could explain it wasn't technically lying it would be fine “some mission too dangerous for you regular die-able folk, some space debris, cept the people who owned it grabbed it while I had it. Ended up half way across t’universe by the time they noticed. Ran into these guys, then the galaxy was in danger, helped save it, then there was a heist job, I stole some stuff, got space money. It was a whole thing.” she waved her hand like she hadn't just detailed being abducted by aliens, helped save the galaxy, joined a team of space pirates and pulled off a heist with them.

“Speakin of heists,” the raccoon started, hopping up on a chair to be level with her “we gotta job we’re plannin, could use the assist. Im thinkin goin to the Space Head an whatever it is yer gunna need help with wont square us for  Centauri.” his little racoon hands moved up and down like an uneven scale, grinning all the while.

“Biphasia is a planet of great peril. What we wish to steal is kept on the side always in daylight. It would kill a mortal man.” added the big mauve man, who still didn’t understand she wasn’t magic, she was pretty sure.

“Would save a lotta plannin...” added the racoon, whos hands were moving to rest at an equal level.

Jack stood, looking between the two, and then back to the others. She couldn't tell if they were worried, not on board, or not following the conversation at all. But they’d understand, how else were they going to defeat Hydra, they were hidden everywhere, if not for her terrible plan? And this...I mean she was asking a lot.

“Fine! Knowhere, Biphasia, Earth.” She said very sternly, she couldn't just fuck around in space this time “We have Nazis again, we need to deal with that.” Quill looked very confused at that, looking at Rogers and she knew what he was thinking “no, its not a time loop, though Polios back now too.” she added, putting herself down in a seat, before doing something at a console at its side. It was quick, and might have been a message. Whatever it was got an eyeroll from Gamora.

“I am Groot” said the tree

“Yeah, everyone finda chair, only a few jumps.” she ‘explained’. Groot got it. The quicker they left the less chance they’d have to oppose the ‘plan’. and when Bucky took a chair closest to her she showed him how the strap like bars worked. Everyone else seemed to be able to take a clue from someone else. She was secretly pleased when the new comers to the ship all looked like the might puke when they hit into hyperspace, except the damn robot of course. It took a good five minutes of jumps, and it was to the tune of Come And Get Your Love they arrived.

She decided it was the perfect song for the place. She was unstrapped and out of her chair as soon as she saw it, the smile on her face somewhere between a grin and dreamy.

“Welcome to Spaceport Knowhere,” Jack said, watching it as they approached like it was the best place that ever existed “a criminal space mall in a dead gods head.” She didn’t think to take in everyone elses reactions, it was only the second time she had gotten to see the place, and she still felt like she could one day retire here and be happy. Open a space bar. Although this time she hadn’t noticed the vague dream had Bucky there too.

She did steal a glance at Bucky when they moved in, all the mining operations, stores, the bars and entire buildings where people lodged. She was happy to see he at least looked as much in awe she had been her first time. And when they landed, she was first off the ship, Buckys sleeve in her grasp until they got off the ramp and onto the ground of the spaceport itself. It was messy, and chaotic, and it smelled of a thousand different foods made cheap in a thousand different food stands, from a thousand different planets.

But it only took about 100 feet before there came, from a distance above them, a scream of rage that sounded like a war cry. A blue lady came down from where she’d been hiding and missed Jack by an inch, and the two started exchanging blow, that narrowly missed being actual serious blows. The blue woman moved with speed, Jack moved with her usual raw and blunt violence. When Bucky went to move to help, though Gamora casually held out an arm. The whole crew of the Milano all looked very unconcerned. The fighting ended with a sudden jolt, a blade a Jacks neck, her fist poised under the womans chin, claws ready to spring.

There was an intense moment just before Jack broke into a grin, and both put down arms.“Neb, ya blue bitch, didn’t think ya’d get message.” They clasped hands and gave a one handed hug.

Steve looked both confused and like he’d had three separate aneurysms in the last 20 minutes.

[jackedknives]

Jack had been pacing around for at least ten minutes, practicing a what she was going to say her head. How she was going to explain what happened in the last hour of conversation while Bucky had slept. There was going to be a lot to unpack, and she knew she was putting it off.

He barley seemed stable around just her, what was he going to do with a witch, a robot and Steve Rogers? Every time she thought of the name she unconsciously wrung her hands together, she had to do this carefully, make sure he understood each bit, had time to deal with each–her phone went off and she froze.

She only had Hooked On A Feeling play if one number called.

The phone was at her ear only for a second before she was fighting a grin, this was serious, but…That things voice just screamed we are going to shoot shit with big guys and its going to be friggen insane. No, it was already insane enough.

“There two of us, gimme five minutes. Cause I have to brace thi…five minutes! Ey! Put the blinders down” she was turning on what looked like a very strange app, and shaking Bucky awake in a flash. Ducked an arm and a gun pointed around the room.

“No! No, we’re good. Listen, B listen, hey.” She had on what was the most nervous smile and was talking like no real calm person ever talked. It was probably a terrifying sign.

“I have a whole bunch of things to say very quickly. And its all going to sound a bit nuts, but its going to get a lot more nuts so I need ya to stay with me here, ok? Ok.” She was throwing things in a bag, interestingly (or worryingly for him, also his weapons), she talked at the speed of light and in that way-to-cheery-for-the-subject and not-at-all-comforting way.

“So I called Wanda, the redhead from the Tower? S’cool we cover up eachothers murders sometimes, she’s got me. Got er to keep Thor unconscious for a while ya know? Girl talked me inta texting Rog…Flag Man. He was surprisingly cool with this? Agreed if we came back you’d be safe? But, haha, course Hydras infiltrated the buldin cause what the fuck else was gonna happen. They did a thing, long story, anyways Stark tried ta kill Rogers, Wanda tried ta help Rogers, Stark attacked Wanda, er robot boyfriend Vision helped her. Long story short Rogers, Wanda an Vision are on the run, we’re gunna meet up, an Starks raised a seven nation army against us.” She tried to laugh but it sounded way to oh fuck this is the worst possible way this could have been said.

Before he could process it and start with the ‘what the fucks’ she start up again “but its cool, i called some friends.”Jacks phone started beeping, and she gave him one more ‘haha isnt this completely fine’ smile while a blue, starry glowing haze started up, and very suddenly disappeared. Along with the light of the room, and softness of the bed. Instead it was a dull light and steel floor. It might have been a very rusty, weird one of Tony ships. But the ‘windshield’ was covered with some blinders.

Also there were a lot of people that were very not human standing around, looking either confused, apprehensive, or grinning. The raccoon was definitely grinning. Jack got herself to her feet.

“We gotta grab some more, things got complicated.” She was already pressing things at a console, and the things that came up were definitely not English. The buff shirtless mauve guy was looking confused between the blonde guy and Bucky when a voice came through the console.

“Jack, we’re about a mile away, we’ll-”

“Change’a plans Rogers,” she cut him off “we’re getting you. Stand still.” A few more buttons, a new glow, and three more very confused people. And Jack had her ‘isnt this fine and everything is fine’ smile.

“So…” she took a second, a long second, where that smile was still there as she figured out on her feet how to do this. She figured it would be best to get the others as quickly as possible, explain it all at once instead of explaining it to Bucky first, and have the other three show up to him screaming ‘oh god were in space theres no air in space ahhhh’

“Welcome to The Milano. This is ‘er captain, Peter Quill–” there was a pause when he interpreted her to correct her, Star Lord, Jack just heard the smirk in hsi voice and she barley kept the smile for a second through clearly gritting teeth, this…not right fucking now ya…she breathed.

“He’s from Earth. Which..surpriiiise…we are no longer on.” The smile morphed took on a wincing quality, and she nodded back at the green woman, who opened the blinders with a shake of the head, humans were clearly all insane. And the front opened up to a stunning, but very much fucking space view.

“These are not human males.” said the buff shirtless mauve man “They look nothing like you, Quill. These are…warriors.”

“They ain’t scoffin down the sugar Quill is.” Laughed the racoon.

“I am Groot” said the tree.

“No, humans aren’t all part metal though I see why y…” Jack started to answer the tree, then finally looked at her other four….oh yeah this was not great. The ‘rip the bandaid off fast’ method might not have been…oh man

[jackedknives]

Though the god spent most of his time off Midgard, in other realms and on other worlds he thought most of his fellow heros here could scarcely imagine, he loved his time here. There was good company, good revelry, and his friends were all so very odd and different.

Even after the tragedy that had befallen them yesterday, the scalding feeling of such scheming little enemies - like wicked little biting ants - fooling him and his fellows, they came together.

Thor had felt a sense of comradery, working to put things back together, help people find their way to medical attention. He kept his surprise of the state of the bodies to himself. His experience did not encompass what he had been told of Rogers friend.

It was being woken after this -after the work, the shame of being tricked so by such tiny villains, the quiet drinks with good friends- that surprised him. It wasn’t that he was not used to people coming to his door (the oddly nice accommodations that Stark provided, and kept always waiting for him, that felt -as oddly as it seemed, as it was never something he would have supposed all those years ago banished here- like a home away from home) it was the knock. He realized, as he trudged to the door, curing quietly to himself when he knocked over and broke yet another lamp, that he knew their knocks by sound.

The always nervous knock of Banner; the polite and firm knock of Rogers; Starks enthusiastic banging. This one was…new. It was nearly nervous, perhaps more frantic, but at the same time it was insistent and annoying. Like they knew he would open and he wasn’t doing it goddamn fast enough.

It was very, very obvious the only person who could possibly belong to that knock was the person on the other side as soon as he had flung the door open.

There was Jack, in pajamas, hair a conspicuous mess, half distracted like she was much more concerned about other things than his answering - which she knew he would and hadnt been doing goddamn fast enough. She kept looking down the halls.

“Ha! You! You’re still here. Thats great, good, good. Great. I need some help.” She started. The large man looked…very confused. This didn’t make sense, not at all. From everything he had come to believe, she wouldn’t ask for his help if she were falling into a volcano. And then she would yell that he didn’t help. Perhaps her head had been more severely injured in the previous days battle than they knew. Perhaps he should call someone, alert them to her situation, she was after all acting mighty strange–

“Can I borrow that?” Jack pointed behind him suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

If he had time to think when he turned to look at what Jack could possibly mean, and if he had time to registered that she cold cocked him the moment he turned, he would have thought “this makes much more sense”.

—-

God, he’s stupid, Jack thought, as she dragged the large unconscious god across the hall by the underarms (she had thrown a sheet over the hammer. He wouldn’t leave without that, and she wasn’t going to humor being ‘worthy’, specially considering her current activities), pausing to punch in Bucky’s door code to his room and kick the door open. Of course she was loud and hit things a lot, it didnt mean she wasnt as sneaky as all hell - it was adorable how they all thought she’d need to break into their rooms and didn’t just memorize their codes.

She lugged Thor like the massive sack of potatoes he was into Buckys bed, struggling to get him in and more than once knocking his head into a wall. Ah, he was a god, he’d be fine. It took her another few minutes to get the wig she had stolen from Romanoff’s room onto him just right (she changed her code once a week, as if it mattered. Jack regularly liked the challenged of stealing Romanoffs lingerie and sending it to Wade. God knew what he wore it for, but she knew it was probably hilarious and Romanoff would hate it) and duck tape a bloody tracker to his arm. She pulled the covers right up to his nose.

Ok, not bad, but not perfect.

She grabbed Bucky’s phone she had found still on his nightstand and texted Rogers:

im sad. going 2 sleep a while

She paused in thought

text u later, pal.

Yes, that sounded lame enough to pass as normal Bucky, and buy her a few hours to drag his not-yet-aware-hes-dead ass back to the tower. It only took ten or so minutes to throw on some actual clothes, and another 15 to get down the tower, she had to use the goddamn stairs - the elevators were still either non functional, or sitting at the bottom of elevator shafts in a crushed mess. She passed Rogers on the way, who paid her no attention, but instead -to her relief- looked glum. Yes, she had time to think, glum. The man didnt look upset he looked glum. God she couldn’t stand him. But he always looked glum when he was worried about ol Buck. He’d bought it. She only prayed he gave his ol pal time to rest, after what he probably assumed was sadness over Hydra, and didnt get up to his way-to-pushy self and find a Norse god in a wig in Buckys bed.

He’d probably blame her.

Thank bloody god she always parked a few blocks away. Sure, the parking at the tower was amazing, but it got attacked by shit way to often.

She had already made one call by the time she had gotten to her bike, to a woman that could get whatever information she needed for the price of Starks best whiskey. The woman had only taken so long to call her back with the needed info because she was clearly hung over - or still drunk. And it had taken a few minutes for her to translate Jacks cussing and shouting about what info she needed and why, and what particular can of whoopass was going to be opened when she found what she was looking for.

Jacks contact, of course, was rude as all fuck and talking to her was like talking to a boxer who’d bet on themselves to take you out in the first round…she was one of Jacks favorite people in the the whole city (she had a great fashion sense. If anyone could find a buff guy in a bar, it was Jones. And if anyone could do it in five minutes, it was Jones being paid in expensive whiskey stolen from a rich asshole.

Jack knew where Bucky was by the time she put the keys in her bike.

[wintermerc-blog]

Bucky had already downed twelve beers and he still wasn’t feeling anything. The taste was comforting though. He had to switch to whiskey. He knew he was being watched the second he walked into the bar but he wasn’t going to risk being out in the open any longer. He had to weigh his odds of fighting secretive hydra goons or Do-Gooder spandex goons. The former was more comfortable for him, even with the risk of being put under a kill order again or being captured completely. He definitely wouldn’t make it easy for them either way, he assured himself. First he was getting drunk and then, only then, was he going to think about what to do next. The last 24 hours had been a whirlwind. He felt raw, exposed to absolutely everything. It was all threatening to dig at his exposed nerves and send him into a battle with ghosts. He felt… incomplete. Like this version of himself was only part of another version. Something wasn’t fixed in his head, and that was putting it lightly. The only memories he could access were cold and painful ones. Ones where someone was murdered by his hands every single time, every one apart from those that were just cold frustrated isolation. Sleeping in a cell that had nothing but a bed and a toilet. Well no, there was the torture too. The repercussions of his half-hearted obeying or his messy kills or needing to get rid of something in his head. Thankfully the whiskey was helping stop the pain that came when he went over these things.

No, that wasn’t all either. There was that girl. The red haired fairy of a girl. She had been tossed carelessly into his care like a dog that had yet to show any worth. But then she did… she showed worth, and she was taken away from him… There was more there but he still couldn’t remember it. And what the hell did it mean that that very girl was the one who was at his side now? Did she dye her hair pink to help stay hidden from Hydra? But she was riding with the super heros? Clearly not hiding herself. How did she end up in that situation? She clearly wasn’t like them… And how was it that it was only her there at the start of all this? Was it supposed to be that way? Was she still Hydra? Or possibly some even sinister splinter of Hydra? How much did she know about him? Would he be able to trust her?

He threw back another shot and waved at the bartender. “Just the whole bottle.” The man looked reluctant but obliged with a final look of fear in his eyes as he got closer. Bucky snarled to himself as he reached for the bottle, the little hole he dug in his arm still smarted though it was clearly healing. He went back to his thoughts. He knew he wasn’t going to learn if Jack was sincere in her help if he only ran away from her, but at the time he wasn’t seeing any other options. And he knew he was reasoning this because… Damn. That fucking lady. He wanted that woman to do whatever she damn well pleased with him. Step on him, torture him, dismember him, dress him up in spandex, make him watch internet cats, WHATEVER. As long as he could keep her around…  He couldn’t shake the image of her spilt in half and moaning on top of him. Hydra wouldn’t be able to touch that shit. He couldn’t imagine ever remembering being so emotionally effected by another person this way. It was so… shocking. It was making his body tense and eager. She was like being punched in the face for the first time. No, being nailed in the dick with a boot for the first time.

Another chug and he made himself go back to his previous train of thoughts. It had always been just himself. He only ever had him. No friends, no partners, no family. Just him and the orders shocked into his head or injected into his spine. It seemed reasonable that changing that solo act wasn’t going to help anything. He just had to make sure that he didn’t let anyone else close. He would have to be a rogue man. He had to be sure that Hydra wouldn’t get another chance to bring back their asset. But he would need some kind of help. He didn’t even know how to properly navigate this city much less the world. He was a soldier out of time. Was it even feasible to think that he alone could find the remaining head of Hydra?

Someone took the stool next to him then. A middle age white man with an enthusiastic but worried look in his eye. Bucky took a drink and mumbled to himself, “Think of the devil and he’ll fucking pull up a seat next to you…” The man chuckled and opened his mouth to speak but Bucky reached up with his gloved metal hand and grabbed the guys jaw hard, keeping it closed. “One fucking word and ill pull this jaw off and feed you the teeth. The man was terrified and tried to nod his head yes. After another ten seconds of glaring Bucky finally let go. He heard the bartender let out a heavy sigh and continue working. He only had a minute of peace though when the man started to say something else. Bucky simply took the back of his head and smashed it into the bar. A loud crack sounded and the loud room paused to watch the guy slump to the side and clatter over the other stools on his way to the ground. Bucky paid no mind to the guy and took another good chug from his bottle. He could hear a door in the back of the bar open and countless footsteps parade in between his gulps. The bartender was already gone. Once he was done with that bottle he climbed up on the bar and reached over to pluck another bigger jug of whiskey from the selection. He sat on the bar and watched the men file in as he took off his glove and slipped it in a pocket. He found the remote he saw the bartender use before and turned up the speakers as far as they could go. He had heard the roar of a motorcycle outside the front door before the speakers drowned it out. He was chugging the whiskey and stretching and flexing his metal arm when the front door was kicked open.

[jackedknives]

By the time she pulled up, people were running out, of bloody course, and she only briefly worried for her bikes safety as she ran in.

She heard gunfire from ahead, people hit into her getting away from it. Only a few looked mildly puzzled that she wasn’t moved by them. She snatched her hand out and grabbed the panicked bartender, and pushed him into a wall, it was clear she wanted answers and nothing else.

“Whats happening.” she said in a solid, furious voice. A big dude, think he killed a guy on my bar, people started attacking him, the guy said, still panicked, but he could still see it was just as dangerous to not answer this person as it was to be where he’d ran from. He thought he heard some speaking Russian, he didn’t know anything else. Jack didn’t need to know anything else. She let him go and made for the door.

As soon as she kicked it open there was a gun in her face, but its owner was (for only a moment), surprised to find it fired over her shoulder -his wrist was in her grip and had been moved.

Jack punched him.

For a second, she felt the cool air on the hot blood coating her arm that was sticking out the other side of the man. There was a sick meaty slurping sound as he slid off. A gash on her arm from a shattered rib healed as she walked. These men, these things that hurt them over and over, that were trying to take this from her now, they were too good to die by their own creation, the claws were too quick for them. They wanted a beast, here was one.

Another one came, this time she punched lighter, just a blow to the gut to double him over so she could get him in a headlock. One arm around his neck, the other in his hair…pulling. Pulling until she was holding two very separate things.

Someone from the corner started firing at her, and she flipped the severed thing in her hand to grip the bit of spine that was still attached, and lobbed it across the room, knocking the gunman out cold with his colleagues head.

Why did they always keep trying to shoot? She thought it as she stumbled a bit from the force of a nearly point blank shot to the back of her head, it disoriented her enough that the man that made the shot got his hand on her shoulder. That was a very bad idea. Hydra didnt get to touch them anymore.

Jack grabbed his arm and threw him with all her strength, but caught his leg just as he flew by, kicking out viciously at his groin and pulling back with her arm. The man fell with a thud in front of her. One of his legs didn’t. She walked around him, shoulders hunched like a predator protecting its territory, stepping one foot over him, standing above him…and started beating the mans head in with his severed leg.

He was dead in two blows, but she stopped when god wouldn’t even have recognized him.

When she dropped the limb, it fell in a silent room, and she seemed for a good ten seconds like she would stay as she was; hunched, blood drenched, breathing hard and looking at the body. Until the silence was broken by the sound of a groan; the man she knocked out with his friends head coming to. The only indication for a moment she heard it was the smallest twitch of her head to the side. Reaching down, she snapped one of the ruined mans ribs that remained unbroken wit a meaty snap and proceeded across the room. She had the man held up by the front of his shirt, and then pinned to the wall with a rib through his neck in seconds.

She guessed one had hidden behind the bar, probably when she started beating their superior with his own leg. But this was the last, just her, the Asset, and this little twit left. In her experience, they did one of two things: they kept hiding and praying to a god that was clearly not on their side, or they tried one more stupid attack.

This one attacked.

Jack had barley turned when another semi started spitting bullets into her, she could feel a few bounce off metal somewhere deep inside and stay there, but that wasn’t something that she cared about right then. Jack walked straight into the gunfire and grabbed the searing barrel, kicking at the last agents knee hard enough to shatter it, her boot pushed him hard back into the wall as he fell, pinning him. The rat was screaming of course, and Jack took the gun she had yanked from his grip and jammed the barrel into the open mouth, pushing it back so the mouth and esophagus lined up. With one good shove, her weight on the grip and butt of the gun, she shoved it all the way down. He put bullets in her, she put his gun in him. Tit for tat, really, is what she would argue to the others later.

When she was sure there was no more sound but Buckys, she started toward him,

“You little …” she started, her annoyance at being an unwitting accomplished in his escape just ate the rest of her words. Not that more were needed to get the point across.

[moreshakeweighty]

Everyone’s head snapped to the door when the pink headed girl kicked in. Bucky’s eyes went wide, not only as he surprised to see her but there was a gun right in her face. The look on that face though… it was pure rage, and it was something familiar. When her arm went through the guy’s chest and he slid off the whole mood of the bar changed. Bucky cracked a grin and watched in awe as she went on. Pulling the motherfuckers head off shocked him in an extremely pleasant way. Most of the men were heading her way but a few still tried to get to him. He took them out without even looking, no way was he taking his eyes off of Jack. He gave a barking laugh when he watched the gunman get taken out by his comrade’s severed head. The glee was torn away quickly though when she got a shot to the back of the head. He had darted forward but the woman just kept on going. She really was completely invincible. He was in awe still, a feeling that he would keep for a long time. She threw the dude but kept his leg and then proceeded to beat the man to death with his own leg.

At this point Bucky jut stumbled back to lean against the bar. Without taking his eyes off the Goddess of Carnage he took his bottle of whiskey and proceeded to enjoy himself further. Anyone else that was around was already out the back door. She looked like… she looked more than a predator, she looked like a monster. Some creature that had the body of a woman but was nowhere near that simple definition.

The man’s head and shoulders were a squished piled of bone and muscle and little brain. It was delightful. He took another drink and watched as some burning feeling churned inside of him while Jack checked for who else needed to die. He was shaking his head, astounded. It was… beautiful, it was such an efficient method of death. He could feel the heat coming off of her. He tasted the blood in the air and everything was just right. He grinned over his shoulder as the last man moved like a rat behind the bar. The little shit seemed to want death though cause he charged right at it. He growled when the bullets rained over her. He hated it. But then his eyes went back wide again as she shoved that whole fucking weapon down into the guy. His mouth was gaped open and the bottle frozen between it and the bar. When she turned her focus on him he literally gave a jerk back, slamming the bottle on the bar. He gave a nervous laugh and the only other sound was the awful gurgling of the last man and his slow decent down to the floor. Their eyes locked on each other during this, some absurd and chaotic energy rising again and swirling between them. He got his face back to it’s normal snarl, still feeling guilty that she had come here. He realized she hadn’t even used her claws that whole time. He closed the distance between them and picked her up, clamping his mouth over hers. Such a heavy petite monster. Such a smell of blood and taste of sweet pink lips and rage. It was overwhelming. He kissed hard, hugged her hard, letting his desire and his lust that had been churned up by her performance throttle against her. His hands in her hair tugging. When he finally pulled back he was grinning. “What brings you here?”

[jackedknives]

Ja...she...jsdafihasdlj god dammit. She had an entire thing, she’d rehearsed the lecture in her head. There was going to be a lot of finger jabbing. She hadn’t even started and he’d already had a better comeback. But there was something else, two beasts coming together after the kill, after their territory was made safe. She had a quick thought that her territory was him.

She whapped him on the arm, but clearly chose the metal one, she wasn’t trying to hurt him. She tried to remember anything she had been going to say,

“What is wrong with you! That damn thing was in there ta keep you outta prison. I had ta go inta detail about..” Jack paused only for a second pressing her lips together because she couldnt think of the word. In stead she just let her claws out and waved her hand “this, to a buncha old senator  t’keep you outta prison.” Oh...no. Wait. This was still Bucky. Bucky would come back, he’d remember this. Her face reflected that sudden realization. She’d never actually told him that, and she had a reason.

Thankfully (well...) the moment was cut short, there was still one of them alive. Just at the sound of the noise she had already jerked toward it, tensed back up, feral, but it immediately it drained and she found it replaced with confusion, the guy had a gun, sure. But he had it to his own head.

“Ve should have expected somvun would be vit you” the man said, with the touch of breathlessness that came from  a person who had just taken their time to gear up. Her muscles only twitched in the slightest when his other hand moved, like they were preparing to attack, but the hand only tore his shirt aside...there, on his chest, was a ugly chunk of tech. Little red light and wires that disappeared down under the shirt. 

“YOU should have expected ve had more than just zees disposable men. Zis..” he gestured to the mechanical thing “iz attached to my heart. It iz a trigger, zere is a bomb, placed in an apartment somevere in ze city. If my heart stops, it vill go off. If you kill me, it goes off. If you leave, I vill pull zis trigger, and it vill go off.” Jacks mind was being torn between the beast that just knew carnage, and the logical reasonable mind. One side told her to rip him in half, the other was trying to process what was happening. The fight between each hurt.

“It vill go off, unless, and only unless, ze Soldier returns to us.” She stood, small at Buckys side, trying to grasp the entirety of this. The pain of the metal tug faded. The beast said to protect him, it didn’t compromise. The logic said protect him. They came together in the understanding that she was like him, two survivors of hell. And this weak little man was trying to drag Bucky back into it. She had seen that metaphorical lake of fire, and no apartment of innocent people would stand between her and him while he was dragged back down.

But there was a problem, and she saw it the moment she looked at him. The snarl was still there, the rage, but she saw it as clear as day. No matter what he remembered, who he was, he was still at heart, a good man. The struggle in his mind would come out in one place: he wouldn't let those people die.

She did it so fast there could have been no stopping it. He’d only realize what she was doing once it was done.

In a fluid and flashing speed, she’d drawn the glock Bucky had taken and tucked away in his waist band, and the mans brain splattered on the wall behind him.

She stood for a long few moments that seemed, in the silence, to extend off endlessly. She stood holding she gun out with a sureness in her decision that kept the gun still in her extended arm from moving in the slightest, she stood as till as rock. But it was her body and the primitive parts of the mind that had made the decision, like some muscle memory to protect the man next to her. For the first of those few moments, she was as shocked as he must have been. But her face betrayed none of it. Her higher mind caught up, and it whispered good job.

The decision echoed off with the sound of the gunshot. To her it sounded different than any other she’d heard. Maybe it was the weight that had come with it. When it finally dissipated, reality came back and she ran to the body, sliding in blood when she got to it, tearing the shirt back - maybe there was still time to stop it, maybe an off switch, maybe--- she lifted the entire thing away from the body, some kind of spirit gum that had been holding it on leaving a sheen on the dead mans chest. The wires were attached to nothing.

She let out on big breath she hadnt notice she’d been holding, it was lacked with shock and relief.

“Its fake. Its fucking fake.” She dropped it, falling back to sit on the ground, dragging bloody hands back through her bloody hair.

[mrgabel]

I blame this on the heat.

[andthwip-deactivated20220219]

[jackedknives]

Hot Wings

[serenusdelirium]

[its--5am-deactivated20190318]

[universalfanfic]

me, a writer who does a very poor job at outlining: oh!! that’s right!!! i was going to include a murder!! glad i remembered in time!

[obscure-princess-deactivated202]

EAT YOU BETTER…

@shalandrial @ruinerofcheese @bleedinblues @lisamott9

[jackedknives]

“You little …”

[jackedknives]

[jackedknives]

[jackedknives]

Though the god spent most of his time off Midgard, in other realms and on other worlds he thought most of his fellow heros here could scarcely imagine, he loved his time here. There was good company, good revelry, and his friends were all so very odd and different.

Even after the tragedy that had befallen them yesterday, the scalding feeling of such scheming little enemies - like wicked little biting ants - fooling him and his fellows, they came together.

Thor had felt a sense of comradery, working to put things back together, help people find their way to medical attention. He kept his surprise of the state of the bodies to himself. His experience did not encompass what he had been told of Rogers friend.

It was being woken after this -after the work, the shame of being tricked so by such tiny villains, the quiet drinks with good friends- that surprised him. It wasn’t that he was not used to people coming to his door (the oddly nice accommodations that Stark provided, and kept always waiting for him, that felt -as oddly as it seemed, as it was never something he would have supposed all those years ago banished here- like a home away from home) it was the knock. He realized, as he trudged to the door, curing quietly to himself when he knocked over and broke yet another lamp, that he knew their knocks by sound.

The always nervous knock of Banner; the polite and firm knock of Rogers; Starks enthusiastic banging. This one was…new. It was nearly nervous, perhaps more frantic, but at the same time it was insistent and annoying. Like they knew he would open and he wasn’t doing it goddamn fast enough.

It was very, very obvious the only person who could possibly belong to that knock was the person on the other side as soon as he had flung the door open.

There was Jack, in pajamas, hair a conspicuous mess, half distracted like she was much more concerned about other things than his answering - which she knew he would and hadnt been doing goddamn fast enough. She kept looking down the halls.

“Ha! You! You’re still here. Thats great, good, good. Great. I need some help.” She started. The large man looked…very confused. This didn’t make sense, not at all. From everything he had come to believe, she wouldn’t ask for his help if she were falling into a volcano. And then she would yell that he didn’t help. Perhaps her head had been more severely injured in the previous days battle than they knew. Perhaps he should call someone, alert them to her situation, she was after all acting mighty strange–

“Can I borrow that?” Jack pointed behind him suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

If he had time to think when he turned to look at what Jack could possibly mean, and if he had time to registered that she cold cocked him the moment he turned, he would have thought “this makes much more sense”.

—-

God, he’s stupid, Jack thought, as she dragged the large unconscious god across the hall by the underarms (she had thrown a sheet over the hammer. He wouldn’t leave without that, and she wasn’t going to humor being ‘worthy’, specially considering her current activities), pausing to punch in Bucky’s door code to his room and kick the door open. Of course she was loud and hit things a lot, it didnt mean she wasnt as sneaky as all hell - it was adorable how they all thought she’d need to break into their rooms and didn’t just memorize their codes.

She lugged Thor like the massive sack of potatoes he was into Buckys bed, struggling to get him in and more than once knocking his head into a wall. Ah, he was a god, he’d be fine. It took her another few minutes to get the wig she had stolen from Romanoff’s room onto him just right (she changed her code once a week, as if it mattered. Jack regularly liked the challenged of stealing Romanoffs lingerie and sending it to Wade. God knew what he wore it for, but she knew it was probably hilarious and Romanoff would hate it) and duck tape a bloody tracker to his arm. She pulled the covers right up to his nose.

Ok, not bad, but not perfect.

She grabbed Bucky’s phone she had found still on his nightstand and texted Rogers:

im sad. going 2 sleep a while

She paused in thought

text u later, pal.

Yes, that sounded lame enough to pass as normal Bucky, and buy her a few hours to drag his not-yet-aware-hes-dead ass back to the tower. It only took ten or so minutes to throw on some actual clothes, and another 15 to get down the tower, she had to use the goddamn stairs - the elevators were still either non functional, or sitting at the bottom of elevator shafts in a crushed mess. She passed Rogers on the way, who paid her no attention, but instead -to her relief- looked glum. Yes, she had time to think, glum. The man didnt look upset he looked glum. God she couldn’t stand him. But he always looked glum when he was worried about ol Buck. He’d bought it. She only prayed he gave his ol pal time to rest, after what he probably assumed was sadness over Hydra, and didnt get up to his way-to-pushy self and find a Norse god in a wig in Buckys bed.

He’d probably blame her.

Thank bloody god she always parked a few blocks away. Sure, the parking at the tower was amazing, but it got attacked by shit way to often.

She had already made one call by the time she had gotten to her bike, to a woman that could get whatever information she needed for the price of Starks best whiskey. The woman had only taken so long to call her back with the needed info because she was clearly hung over - or still drunk. And it had taken a few minutes for her to translate Jacks cussing and shouting about what info she needed and why, and what particular can of whoopass was going to be opened when she found what she was looking for.

Jacks contact, of course, was rude as all fuck and talking to her was like talking to a boxer who’d bet on themselves to take you out in the first round…she was one of Jacks favorite people in the the whole city (she had a great fashion sense. If anyone could find a buff guy in a bar, it was Jones. And if anyone could do it in five minutes, it was Jones being paid in expensive whiskey stolen from a rich asshole.

Jack knew where Bucky was by the time she put the keys in her bike.

[wintermerc-blog]

Bucky had already downed twelve beers and he still wasn’t feeling anything. The taste was comforting though. He had to switch to whiskey. He knew he was being watched the second he walked into the bar but he wasn’t going to risk being out in the open any longer. He had to weigh his odds of fighting secretive hydra goons or Do-Gooder spandex goons. The former was more comfortable for him, even with the risk of being put under a kill order again or being captured completely. He definitely wouldn’t make it easy for them either way, he assured himself. First he was getting drunk and then, only then, was he going to think about what to do next. The last 24 hours had been a whirlwind. He felt raw, exposed to absolutely everything. It was all threatening to dig at his exposed nerves and send him into a battle with ghosts. He felt… incomplete. Like this version of himself was only part of another version. Something wasn’t fixed in his head, and that was putting it lightly. The only memories he could access were cold and painful ones. Ones where someone was murdered by his hands every single time, every one apart from those that were just cold frustrated isolation. Sleeping in a cell that had nothing but a bed and a toilet. Well no, there was the torture too. The repercussions of his half-hearted obeying or his messy kills or needing to get rid of something in his head. Thankfully the whiskey was helping stop the pain that came when he went over these things.

No, that wasn’t all either. There was that girl. The red haired fairy of a girl. She had been tossed carelessly into his care like a dog that had yet to show any worth. But then she did… she showed worth, and she was taken away from him… There was more there but he still couldn’t remember it. And what the hell did it mean that that very girl was the one who was at his side now? Did she dye her hair pink to help stay hidden from Hydra? But she was riding with the super heros? Clearly not hiding herself. How did she end up in that situation? She clearly wasn’t like them… And how was it that it was only her there at the start of all this? Was it supposed to be that way? Was she still Hydra? Or possibly some even sinister splinter of Hydra? How much did she know about him? Would he be able to trust her?

He threw back another shot and waved at the bartender. “Just the whole bottle.” The man looked reluctant but obliged with a final look of fear in his eyes as he got closer. Bucky snarled to himself as he reached for the bottle, the little hole he dug in his arm still smarted though it was clearly healing. He went back to his thoughts. He knew he wasn’t going to learn if Jack was sincere in her help if he only ran away from her, but at the time he wasn’t seeing any other options. And he knew he was reasoning this because… Damn. That fucking lady. He wanted that woman to do whatever she damn well pleased with him. Step on him, torture him, dismember him, dress him up in spandex, make him watch internet cats, WHATEVER. As long as he could keep her around…  He couldn’t shake the image of her spilt in half and moaning on top of him. Hydra wouldn’t be able to touch that shit. He couldn’t imagine ever remembering being so emotionally effected by another person this way. It was so… shocking. It was making his body tense and eager. She was like being punched in the face for the first time. No, being nailed in the dick with a boot for the first time.

Another chug and he made himself go back to his previous train of thoughts. It had always been just himself. He only ever had him. No friends, no partners, no family. Just him and the orders shocked into his head or injected into his spine. It seemed reasonable that changing that solo act wasn’t going to help anything. He just had to make sure that he didn’t let anyone else close. He would have to be a rogue man. He had to be sure that Hydra wouldn’t get another chance to bring back their asset. But he would need some kind of help. He didn’t even know how to properly navigate this city much less the world. He was a soldier out of time. Was it even feasible to think that he alone could find the remaining head of Hydra?

Someone took the stool next to him then. A middle age white man with an enthusiastic but worried look in his eye. Bucky took a drink and mumbled to himself, “Think of the devil and he’ll fucking pull up a seat next to you…” The man chuckled and opened his mouth to speak but Bucky reached up with his gloved metal hand and grabbed the guys jaw hard, keeping it closed. “One fucking word and ill pull this jaw off and feed you the teeth. The man was terrified and tried to nod his head yes. After another ten seconds of glaring Bucky finally let go. He heard the bartender let out a heavy sigh and continue working. He only had a minute of peace though when the man started to say something else. Bucky simply took the back of his head and smashed it into the bar. A loud crack sounded and the loud room paused to watch the guy slump to the side and clatter over the other stools on his way to the ground. Bucky paid no mind to the guy and took another good chug from his bottle. He could hear a door in the back of the bar open and countless footsteps parade in between his gulps. The bartender was already gone. Once he was done with that bottle he climbed up on the bar and reached over to pluck another bigger jug of whiskey from the selection. He sat on the bar and watched the men file in as he took off his glove and slipped it in a pocket. He found the remote he saw the bartender use before and turned up the speakers as far as they could go. He had heard the roar of a motorcycle outside the front door before the speakers drowned it out. He was chugging the whiskey and stretching and flexing his metal arm when the front door was kicked open.

[jackedknives]

By the time she pulled up, people were running out, of bloody course, and she only briefly worried for her bikes safety as she ran in.

She heard gunfire from ahead, people hit into her getting away from it. Only a few looked mildly puzzled that she wasn't moved by them. She snatched her hand out and grabbed the panicked bartender, and pushed him into a wall, it was clear she wanted answers and nothing else.

"Whats happening." she said in a solid, furious voice. A big dude, think he killed a guy on my bar, people started attacking him, the guy said, still panicked, but he could still see it was just as dangerous to not answer this person as it was to be where he'd ran from. He thought he heard some speaking Russian, he didn't know anything else. Jack didn't need to know anything else. She let him go and made for the door.

As soon as she kicked it open there was a gun in her face, but its owner was (for only a moment), surprised to find it fired over her shoulder -his wrist was in her grip and had been moved.

Jack punched him.

For a second, she felt the cool air on the hot blood coating her arm that was sticking out the other side of the man. There was a sick meaty slurping sound as he slid off. A gash on her arm from a shattered rib healed as she walked. These men, these things that hurt them over and over, that were trying to take this from her now, they were too good to die by their own creation, the claws were too quick for them. They wanted a beast, here was one.

Another one came, this time she punched lighter, just a blow to the gut to double him over so she could get him in a headlock. One arm around his neck, the other in his hair...pulling. Pulling until she was holding two very separate things.

Someone from the corner started firing at her, and she flipped the severed thing in her hand to grip the bit of spine that was still attached, and lobbed it across the room, knocking the gunman out cold with his colleagues head.

Why did they always keep trying to shoot? She thought it as she stumbled a bit from the force of a nearly point blank shot to the back of her head, it disoriented her enough that the man that made the shot got his hand on her shoulder. That was a very bad idea. Hydra didnt get to touch them anymore.

Jack grabbed his arm and threw him with all her strength, but caught his leg just as he flew by, kicking out viciously at his groin and pulling back with her arm. The man fell with a thud in front of her. One of his legs didn't. She walked around him, shoulders hunched like a predator protecting its territory, stepping one foot over him, standing above him...and started beating the mans head in with his severed leg.

He was dead in two blows, but she stopped when god wouldn't even have recognized him.

When she dropped the limb, it fell in a silent room, and she seemed for a good ten seconds like she would stay as she was; hunched, blood drenched, breathing hard and looking at the body. Until the silence was broken by the sound of a groan; the man she knocked out with his friends head coming to. The only indication for a moment she heard it was the smallest twitch of her head to the side. Reaching down, she snapped one of the ruined mans ribs that remained unbroken wit a meaty snap and proceeded across the room. She had the man held up by the front of his shirt, and then pinned to the wall with a rib through his neck in seconds.

She guessed one had hidden behind the bar, probably when she started beating their superior with his own leg. But this was the last, just her, the Asset, and this little twit left. In her experience, they did one of two things: they kept hiding and praying to a god that was clearly not on their side, or they tried one more stupid attack.

This one attacked.

Jack had barley turned when another semi started spitting bullets into her, she could feel a few bounce off metal somewhere deep inside and stay there, but that wasn’t something that she cared about right then. Jack walked straight into the gunfire and grabbed the searing barrel, kicking at the last agents knee hard enough to shatter it, her boot pushed him hard back into the wall as he fell, pinning him. The rat was screaming of course, and Jack took the gun she had yanked from his grip and jammed the barrel into the open mouth, pushing it back so the mouth and esophagus lined up. With one good shove, her weight on the grip and butt of the gun, she shoved it all the way down. He put bullets in her, she put his gun in him. Tit for tat, really, is what she would argue to the others later.

When she was sure there was no more sound but Buckys, she started toward him,

"You little ..." she started, her annoyance at being an unwitting accomplished in his escape just ate the rest of her words. Not that more were needed to get the point across.

[jackedknives]

Though the god spent most of his time off Midgard, in other realms and on other worlds he thought most of his fellow heros here could scarcely imagine, he loved his time here. There was good company, good revelry, and his friends were all so very odd and different.

Even after the tragedy that had befallen them yesterday, the scalding feeling of such scheming little enemies - like wicked little biting ants - fooling him and his fellows, they came together.

Thor had felt a sense of comradery, working to put things back together, help people find their way to medical attention. He kept his surprise of the state of the bodies to himself. His experience did not encompass what he had been told of Rogers friend.

It was being woken after this -after the work, the shame of being tricked so by such tiny villains, the quiet drinks with good friends- that surprised him. It wasn’t that he was not used to people coming to his door (the oddly nice accommodations that Stark provided, and kept always waiting for him, that felt -as oddly as it seemed, as it was never something he would have supposed all those years ago banished here- like a home away from home) it was the knock. He realized, as he trudged to the door, curing quietly to himself when he knocked over and broke yet another lamp, that he knew their knocks by sound.

The always nervous knock of Banner; the polite and firm knock of Rogers; Starks enthusiastic banging. This one was...new. It was nearly nervous, perhaps more frantic, but at the same time it was insistent and annoying. Like they knew he would open and he wasn’t doing it goddamn fast enough.

It was very, very obvious the only person who could possibly belong to that knock was the person on the other side as soon as he had flung the door open.

There was Jack, in pajamas, hair a conspicuous mess, half distracted like she was much more concerned about other things than his answering - which she knew he would and hadnt been doing goddamn fast enough. She kept looking down the halls.

“Ha! You! You’re still here. Thats great, good, good. Great. I need some help.” She started. The large man looked...very confused. This didn’t make sense, not at all. From everything he had come to believe, she wouldn’t ask for his help if she were falling into a volcano. And then she would yell that he didn’t help. Perhaps her head had been more severely injured in the previous days battle than they knew. Perhaps he should call someone, alert them to her situation, she was after all acting mighty strange--

“Can I borrow that?” Jack pointed behind him suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

If he had time to think when he turned to look at what Jack could possibly mean, and if he had time to registered that she cold cocked him the moment he turned, he would have thought “this makes much more sense”.

----

God, he’s stupid, Jack thought, as she dragged the large unconscious god across the hall by the underarms (she had thrown a sheet over the hammer. He wouldn't leave without that, and she wasn’t going to humor being ‘worthy’, specially considering her current activities), pausing to punch in Bucky’s door code to his room and kick the door open. Of course she was loud and hit things a lot, it didnt mean she wasnt as sneaky as all hell - it was adorable how they all thought she’d need to break into their rooms and didn’t just memorize their codes.

She lugged Thor like the massive sack of potatoes he was into Buckys bed, struggling to get him in and more than once knocking his head into a wall. Ah, he was a god, he’d be fine. It took her another few minutes to get the wig she had stolen from Romanoff’s room onto him just right (she changed her code once a week, as if it mattered. Jack regularly liked the challenged of stealing Romanoffs lingerie and sending it to Wade. God knew what he wore it for, but she knew it was probably hilarious and Romanoff would hate it) and duck tape a bloody tracker to his arm. She pulled the covers right up to his nose.

Ok, not bad, but not perfect.

She grabbed Bucky’s phone she had found still on his nightstand and texted Rogers:

im sad. going 2 sleep a while

She paused in thought

text u later, pal.

Yes, that sounded lame enough to pass as normal Bucky, and buy her a few hours to drag his not-yet-aware-hes-dead ass back to the tower. It only took ten or so minutes to throw on some actual clothes, and another 15 to get down the tower, she had to use the goddamn stairs - the elevators were still either non functional, or sitting at the bottom of elevator shafts in a crushed mess. She passed Rogers on the way, who paid her no attention, but instead -to her relief- looked glum. Yes, she had time to think, glum. The man didnt look upset he looked glum. God she couldn’t stand him. But he always looked glum when he was worried about ol Buck. He’d bought it. She only prayed he gave his ol pal time to rest, after what he probably assumed was sadness over Hydra, and didnt get up to his way-to-pushy self and find a Norse god in a wig in Buckys bed.

He’d probably blame her.

Thank bloody god she always parked a few blocks away. Sure, the parking at the tower was amazing, but it got attacked by shit way to often.

She had already made one call by the time she had gotten to her bike, to a woman that could get whatever information she needed for the price of Starks best whiskey. The woman had only taken so long to call her back with the needed info because she was clearly hung over - or still drunk. And it had taken a few minutes for her to translate Jacks cussing and shouting about what info she needed and why, and what particular can of whoopass was going to be opened when she found what she was looking for.

Jacks contact, of course, was rude as all fuck and talking to her was like talking to a boxer who’d bet on themselves to take you out in the first round...she was one of Jacks favorite people in the the whole city (she had a great fashion sense. If anyone could find a buff guy in a bar, it was Jones. And if anyone could do it in five minutes, it was Jones being paid in expensive whiskey stolen from a rich asshole.

Jack knew where Bucky was by the time she put the keys in her bike.