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@sofiaespinosa
— I am woman - a.j. (insp)
sofiaespinosa:
“…Yes.” Sofia frowned, tilting her head a little to the side. “Did I say it in Spanish? I do that sometimes.” it was hard to keep track, two languages always buzzing around in her head… “I mean…I guess. I didn’t knock over anything important-looking. Who stores things on top of a filing cabinet on wheels? Sounds more like an organizational problem than my problem.” Despite the words, she cracked a smile, and bent over to pick up the items that had fallen. She placed them back on a nearby desk, as though to cement her point, and then held up her arms. “No harm, no foul.” “Probably the next person to set off said biochemical weapon. Well, if it’s the shoot-y kind anyway.” She smiled again. “Just a soldier on a mission for Commander Pennyworth…Kind of, anyway.”
“They can be stored on a rolling file cabinet when I’m the only one in here, the way it’s supposed to be,” He muttered, rounding his desk to start putting things back the way he liked it. He was precise, meticulous, methodical… and married to a hurricane of a woman. His lab was his escape, and that’s all he had. He would have red-lipsticked, sassy-mouthed Latinas coming in here and tossing the place.
“Ah, Pennyworth. Can’t come face me himself?” Alex was grateful to his brother-in-law for the job, really, but the two didn’t see eye-to-eye on much… except that their work had to be kept a secret from Rory. “And, kind of? Is this a mission he knows about, or are you ‘helping’ him?”
"Unfortunately for you, you're not always going to be alone. And I happen to be a lot more careful than the rest of the brutes I work with." She flashed a smile, rolling her eyes as the man began to re-arrange. Oh, a fun one to bother. She silently made a note in the back of her head.
"Neither here nor there," she said, waving him off. "He needs to get something done and has said in just about every word in the Englush language that he doesn't want to, so....you have the pleasure to meet me today." She smiled again, shrugging her shoulders. "He doesn't like you. At least, from what I've heard."
I’ve got your six--
sofiaespinosa:
“My make up bag is non-negotiable,” Sofia grumbled in protest. She was sure he could remember her complaints about dress code back when they were Marines, and likely several write ups that followed. “They should bring me on as a product tester. Nothing is a stronger test of sweat resistant than this hell.” Moping was evidently one of her strong suits, as she brought up the heat again. God, she hated being hot.
“Funny thing is, I think I would still rather be here than home right now. Do you have any idea what it’s like raising teenagers?” She groaned, shaking her head. “I now understand everything I put my mother through. This is why I don’t want children. I’d rather be at war.” Which she technically had never left….or so it felt.
“Sounds good to me. Lucky for you, I’m here, otherwise your English-speaking ass would be up shit creek.” She was sure that was intentional, things like that always were. But she always had to rub it in. His side of the line was quiet, and she knew what that meant. Without the banter, she finally found the head she needed in her scope. Waiting, focusing, her finger curling around the trigger….
Then she heard footsteps from below. First, maybe second floor. So much for no overwatch.
“Hurry up,” she hissed through the radio. “I’m not alone. We need to finish.” M
Not alone. Her words echoed in his head, sending a thrill of panic up his spine. They were supposed to be alone, have plenty of time to evacuate on their terms. And now Sofie was in danger.
“Sof, take your shot and get the fuck out of there. I’ll kick up a racket and draw them to me,” He hissed into his comms.
He was pretty sure he didn’t have a great path out of here, but he was pretty goddamn sure no one was in the church below him. Or at least, no one who’d prove a threat.
As much as she complained about raising her teenage siblings and bemoaned her time at home, he knew that they needed her, and she needed to go home. If he died in a “construction accident,” Catie would be devastated, but she could move on with her life. Sofie was needed.
His finger squeezed the trigger the rest of the way, his breath stilling long enough to watch the crosshairs settle on his original target as the muffled crack of his rifle echoed through the city and he felt the recoil push into his shoulder.
Messy. Messy. Messy. He repeated to himself, trying not to look too hard at what his crosshairs landed on as he raked the crowd, shooting randomly. There were a lot of innocent people down there, but if he thought about it, he’d never make it through.
When he’d created enough chaos, he slung his rifle over his shoulder and pushed himself back from the edge. Time to get the fuck out.
“Espinosa, how we lookin’?”
Sofia did not respond, hyper-focused on the situation at hand. The footsteps were growing louder, by no doubt getting closer. She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, releasing her shot after she had heard two of Charlie's. Clean and easy, done like the countless others she had done in the past. This was no different from her time in Afghanistan, or so she told herself. After all, a head in her scope was a head in her scope. How did one life matter more than another?
She was unsure if the unplanned gunfire would register on the comms with the chaos Charlie was causing, but the searing pain in her flank was undeniable. She turned, quickly as she could with her injury and dodging gunfire, swiftly picking up her rifle to fire back, another shot in her side as she did. The opponent in the doorway fell, but voices yelling in Spanish were only a few feet behind. She fired, quickly taking down two more men, trying to think rapidly and not fixate on the panic setting in. Hotel room, what were her assets? She quickly moved to shut the door, latching the chain above and locking the deadbolt. That wouldn't hold for long and would do next to nothing for bullets, but it bought her time. Even a few seconds would be beneficial. Next, the bed. Thankfully, it was a dirtbag hotel in Colombia, therefore nothing was bolted down. Nothing except her heavy breathing on the comms, ignoring Charlie's voice in her ear. She didn't have time to answer him now. The metal frame was cheap though still surprisingly heavy. Normally, she would be able to move it with ease, but now...now blood was dripping between her fingers just as she crossed the room. How ironic, that she had thought her chances of dying in some humid and hot ass hell were behind her.
She moved her hand away from the wound she had been covering, blood flowing freely from both but she needed both hands. No time for first aid, no time to do anything but act. Within seconds she heard more footsteps, yelling approaching. She moved the bed across the room, her adrenaline kicking in as well as her Marine training. She flipped the full size bed upwards, the frame and mattress fully blocking the door. Again, more time, more padding to stop gunfire...
Charlie. "Salir." Spanish always came easier in times like these, and there was a 50/50 chance be would understand due to their time together. But she corrected herself regardless: "Get out. Now. I'm coming." More gunfire, and she ducked down as she weighed her options. Fight her way down the stairs, or go out the window. Neither sounded appealing in her current condition
alex-riker:
Alex stared in disbelief as she waved him away, muttering in Spanish as she did so. “Just a minute?” He echoed, pushing his chair back from his desk. He wasn’t as quick as his wife was to snap off a quick response, but after years of being with her, he knew he could muster some pretty damn firm directions.
“Did it not occur to you that maybe there’s stuff in the top-secret lab that, oh, I dunno,shouldn’t be knocked over?” He straightened to his full height. He was slight, but still towered over the woman. Alex didn’t know her, but he assumed that she was probably one of the ex-soldiers who he designed tech and weapons for.
“Who am I? Oh nobody important, apparently. Just Dr. Riker, sitting in his lab, working on the next biochemical weapon, that’s all. And who might you be?”
“...Yes.” Sofia frowned, tilting her head a little to the side. “Did I say it in Spanish? I do that sometimes.” it was hard to keep track, two languages always buzzing around in her head... “I mean...I guess. I didn’t knock over anything important-looking. Who stores things on top of a filing cabinet on wheels? Sounds more like an organizational problem than my problem.” Despite the words, she cracked a smile, and bent over to pick up the items that had fallen. She placed them back on a nearby desk, as though to cement her point, and then held up her arms. “No harm, no foul.” “Probably the next person to set off said biochemical weapon. Well, if it’s the shoot-y kind anyway.” She smiled again. “Just a soldier on a mission for Commander Pennyworth...Kind of, anyway.”
I’ve got your six--
sofiaespinosa:
“It’s hot.” The whine was almost child-like, and a pout was added to the end despite the fact that her other wouldn’t see it. “God, and I complained about Texas. Texas has nothing on here.” Her brow was sweaty, and she reached up to wipe it with the back of her hands with a scowl. She would never miss deployments, 110+ degrees in the shade wearing fatigues and gear that may or may not have weighed more than her. This was nothing compared to that by far, but still she found herself complaining. Hey, at least in this situation she was allowed to wear her signature winged liner and bright red lips…even if they were melting off her face. “Good. If someone takes me out, it’ll end my suffering. I’m not designed for humidity, Charlie. We’ve discussed this before.” Petulant like a child, she sighed and re-adjusted herself despite her whining. She shifted back just slightly to swipe at her eyes, regretting wearing make-up after all and just hoping that water proof held true. She couldn’t see with sweat in her eyes, and if she couldn’t see this all was all for nothing. She wanted it to be over with and not have to revisit this in a few weeks time. One and done. She felt the hair that had escaped her fishtail braid sticking to her forehead, and she let out an exhale as she allowed herself to focus on the task at hand and ignore that annoyance as well as other distractions. She adjusted herself again, preparing herself as the parade continued and her target came into view. “ Como siempre seré,” she mumbled, teeth sinking into her lower lip.
Charlie chuckled from his rooftop hideout. He was baking in the sun on the red terra cotta tile, but it gave him the best vantage point. “We’ve been through worse, Espinosa. Not much worse but… at least Afghanistan was a dry heat?”” Under his padded tac pants, the heat of the day was starting to burn his thighs, but he didn’t dare shift. Not now, not when everything was so close.
“Just imagine how much more comfortable you’d be if you’d left your makeup bag at home, Princess,” He teased, dragging out her much-hated nickname from their time in the Corps together. Sweat was coursing down his face, trailing under his glasses and dripping off his nose. He’d wipe it, but it would just be back a second later.
For all his teasing, he was just as miserable as Espinosa was. And the way they were both sweating, they’d need some electrolyte tablets on the way home, unless they wanted to feel super fucked up tomorrow.
“Right on. I’ll cause some havoc and mayhem, you finish the job, we’ll both get the fuck out of here and get some nice cold beers…” Charlie muttered, lining up his first shot. A police officer, far enough away from the podium to look random. His breathing slowed as he counted his heartbeats, finger curling around the trigger as he squeezed it to the very edge of breaking, waiting…
And… go.
"My make up bag is non-negotiable," Sofia grumbled in protest. She was sure he could remember her complaints about dress code back when they were Marines, and likely several write ups that followed. "They should bring me on as a product tester. Nothing is a stronger test of sweat resistant than this hell." Moping was evidently one of her strong suits, as she brought up the heat again. God, she hated being hot.
"Funny thing is, I think I would still rather be here than home right now. Do you have any idea what it's like raising teenagers?" She groaned, shaking her head. "I now understand everything I put my mother through. This is why I don't want children. I'd rather be at war." Which she technically had never left....or so it felt.
"Sounds good to me. Lucky for you, I'm here, otherwise your English-speaking ass would be up shit creek." She was sure that was intentional, things like that always were. But she always had to rub it in. His side of the line was quiet, and she knew what that meant. Without the banter, she finally found the head she needed in her scope. Waiting, focusing, her finger curling around the trigger....
Then she heard footsteps from below. First, maybe second floor. So much for no overwatch.
"Hurry up," she hissed through the radio. "I'm not alone. We need to finish." M
“No, no. By all means, just help yourself. It’s not like I have any of this stuff organized or anything,” Alex huffed, hardly sparing a glance for the figure who’d entered his lab and immediately began rifling through his cabinets. Despite the plaque mounted beside his door declaring the lab belonged to Dr. Alexander Riker, the young post-doc was hardly ever treated as such.
Sure, he was a chemistry genius and used his talents towards engineering the best new tech for an organization that legally didn’t exist, but it’s not like he deserved respect from his team or anything.
A crash brought his head up from the document he’d been working on, glaring across the space.
“Can I help you find whatever it is you need, or are you going to just keep knocking shit over?”
Sofia barely listened, waving a hand at the voice dismissively. “Solo necesito encontrar algo,” she mumbled, hardly noticing she was speaking in Spanish and that the person probably would not understand her. “I just need a minute,” she corrected, sighing. She was only half allowed to be in here, on a quest though...unofficially. She paused, frowning as she finally turned to face the other voice. “Who are you?” Clearly, she hadn’t read the name on the door. “And no. I’ve got it.”
I’ve got your six--
@sofiaespinosa
“Hey, Espinosa,” A jaunty voice crackled across the radio, “Lovely day for a coup, isn’t it?”
From where Charlie was perched, flat on his belly, peering down the scope of his trusty M40, he could see the faint outline of the other sniper in a fourth story window, tracking the movements of the military parade below. “You’re visible, by the way. I don’t think they have any overwatch today, but you may wanna take a step back.”
The pair were sweating their asses off in a muggy Columbian summer’s day, carefully watching the proceedings happening below. They were there to cause a little havoc and mayhem–by murdering the newest head of state so someone who pulled the strings could put their own puppet behind the podium.
Espinosa would take the killing shot, they’d been told in the briefing. She was the more accurate of the pair. It was his job to make it messy enough it didn’t look like the man speaking to the crowd from the stage was targeted purposefully. Elsewhere around the city square, a demolitions team was readying an explosive charge, that was being set off to destroy the scene and evidence of their deeds, and give everyone a chance to get to the exfil site.
Fucked as it was to say, Charlie didn’t mind these missions as much. It wasn’t that far off from his time in the Marines, in all honesty. Just clearing away one bad man for another, US-sanctioned bad man to take his place. Better than some of the missions they’d been put on. But if they didn’t do it, someone else would, so they might as well get paid. He already had too much red in his ledger, anyways.
“You ready?”
“It’s hot.” The whine was almost child-like, and a pout was added to the end despite the fact that her other wouldn’t see it. “God, and I complained about Texas. Texas has nothing on here.” Her brow was sweaty, and she reached up to wipe it with the back of her hands with a scowl. She would never miss deployments, 110+ degrees in the shade wearing fatigues and gear that may or may not have weighed more than her. This was nothing compared to that by far, but still she found herself complaining. Hey, at least in this situation she was allowed to wear her signature winged liner and bright red lips...even if they were melting off her face. “Good. If someone takes me out, it’ll end my suffering. I’m not designed for humidity, Charlie. We’ve discussed this before.” Petulant like a child, she sighed and re-adjusted herself despite her whining. She shifted back just slightly to swipe at her eyes, regretting wearing make-up after all and just hoping that water proof held true. She couldn’t see with sweat in her eyes, and if she couldn’t see this all was all for nothing. She wanted it to be over with and not have to revisit this in a few weeks time. One and done. She felt the hair that had escaped her fishtail braid sticking to her forehead, and she let out an exhale as she allowed herself to focus on the task at hand and ignore that annoyance as well as other distractions. She adjusted herself again, preparing herself as the parade continued and her target came into view. “ Como siempre seré,” she mumbled, teeth sinking into her lower lip.
— I am woman - a.j. (insp)
Her leg was bouncing up and down in the briefing, the only tell that the soldier was even paying attention, the only tell that she was anxious. Otherwise, she was examining her nails - her manicure needed a fill, the gap between her cuticles and the teal gel polish getting too big for liking. The heels tap tap tapped against the flooring as she idly picked at her cuticles, sighing as though she couldn’t be bothered to be there. But really, she was hanging onto every word, and the others in the room had to know, or else she’d be reprimanded. Or maybe they didn’t care. It was hard to tell anymore. After all, this was hardly the military she was used to. Hell, this didn’t even exist, whatever it was. Not technically, anyway. She listened enough to get the details, and vague ones at that. Specifications were important when it came to the actual job, but that was all she needed. Take out the target. Done. Extract whatever. Done. But knowing names, knowing places made the job that much more difficult. Knowing the details made her physically sick and unable to perform. It was different when she was a Marine. This...this felt different. It was colder, it was much less forgiving. So much of the work felt unnecessary, like she was a missionary out for hire. But they promised it was for the greater good, promised it was to keep their country safe and running smoothly. That despite the bloodshed, this was good. God bless America. In theory, it was simple. Someone else was assigned to plant the explosives; she tuned that part out, as it didn’t apply to her. When she heard the word sniper, the tapping off her foot slowed though did not stop completely. Theoretically, the job was easy. Shoot the target, set off the explosives. Pretend you didn’t just kill hundreds or potentially thousands of people. Remind yourself that this is for your country, that this is good, that you are making the world a better place... Except that became much harder when she heard the location: the Space Needle. Finally, Sofia looked up, dark red lips parted as breath escaped her. She immediately felt cold and clammy, and she swallowed as she uncrossed her legs, the tapping finally stopping. “The Space Needle?” The accent came out more, much more pronounced now that she was spending more time at home around her family and not overseas. “Seattle?” “You’ve never been?” The Commander somehow, someway, managed to crack a smile in her direction, and that was when the nausea settled in. “Yes, Seattle.” The room was quiet, and Sofia swore the whole room could hear her heart beating. No. No, no, no. This was not what she signed up for. This was not an attack on a foreign threat. This was not an extraction. This was...this was... “This is a terrorist attack,” she spoke finally. “I’m performing a terrorist attack. Here.” “That’s what it needs to appear to be, yes.” Sofia couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. “Make sure to make it a little messy. Fire off some shots. Can’t be looking too military precise.” At first, she said nothing. What could she say to that? Her mind was blank, and everything that came to mind was not appropriate to say to someone who could have her killed in the blink of an eye, or her siblings. She straightened herself slowly, re-crossing her legs. She smoothed down her skirt, tightening her fingers around the material to hide their shaking. She nodded once, then again as she finally found her voice: “Yes, sir.” She felt so stupid, but what else was there to say? These were orders. She had no choice. And two weeks later, that girl was gone. The too small skirt and heels were replaced with black jeans and a plain t-shirt, something for her to blend in. Her make-up was wiped clean, and those teal nails were cut short. Glasses replaced contacts as she stood before a sniper set up. The only thing remaining of the girl in that room two weeks prior were the shaking hands. One minute. She had one minute left. She approached the rifle swiftly, without question, and she slowly lowered herself to it. One eye closed tightly, she used her scope to find her target. So simple, a trash can through a window. So obvious. So stupid. Her hands were sweating, so she removed them to wipe them clean on her pants. She felt sick, so so sick, but time was running out and she had no choice. Make it messy. Five. Four. Three. “ Padre, pídeme, porque he pecado.” She removed her scope from the final target, and began to fire. The screams that followed even reached her, high in the clouds, on a building too far to be suspicious just yet. On a building where security cameras had been disabled, staff paid off or sent home... She felt bile rising in the back of her throat, and after what felt like hours she moved back to the target, and the explosion reached her ears before she had even processed pulling the trigger. She broke down the set-up as quickly as she could, hands shaking as she fought the urge to vomit. Not here. Not now. She didn’t have time. They’d told her that there would be a car for her two minutes after her job was completed, and she had all those stairs.... She was heaving as she ran down them, trying to focus on breathing through her mouth. This had to be done. For whatever reason was above her pay grade, this had to be done. Sofia did not need to know why, she just had to do like the little soldier she was. She had to blindly accept her orders with the understand that this was necessary. That if she didn’t do it, someone else would. God bless America.
“Surviving…” he said quietly and looked over at her again, seeing her holding a hand out to him, which he grabbed, and got up on his feet, he felt ok, only one of his ankles seemed to have gotten the worst of it, and he wan´t fully able to stand on it.. “.. great..”
“And sometimes surviving involves jumping off buildings,” Sofia mumbled. She helped him to his feet with little effort, looking him over. “Walk it off,” she said, though her expression turned slightly sympathetic. “Literally. Walk it off, move around. It’ll help, I’m not trying to be an asshole.”
Noah looked back over at her kinda just sending her a stink eye. “Not like i fucking plan on jumping off buildings, nor do it as an every day activity.” he mumbled, before leaning against the dumpster, trying to get back on his feet..
“Then what exactly was your plan?” Sofia brushed herself off, inspecting for injuries though thankfully came away with none. “What goes up must come down, and those fire escapes went to shit years ago.” Sighing, she rolled her eyes and offered her hands to help the man up. “Come on, up we go. Brush it off, you’ll be fine.”
the mortal instruments / isabelle lightwood
Don’t you know better? Hearts are breakable.
shadowhunters meme: [5] shadowhunters | isabelle lightwood
“what kind of people sacrifice justice for law?”
“God— Fucking… Come on, you son of a bitch…” The male muttered several choice curses beneath his breath as he tirelessly tried an old zippo, but to no avail. It was absolute torture to have cigarettes in his possession with no lighter or even a single match. Fellow city dwellers might have been doing him a favor by keeping his stress at bay by occasionally providing scavenged cigarettes, but all that effort was useless now. “Fuck it—” Disgruntled, he finally tossed the zippo aside and rubbed at his fatigued eyes rather forcefully.
“The whole sticks and rocks approach actually works if you’re persistent,” Sofia offered aloud, expression amused as she watched his struggle. “I also have a matchbook. I mean, it’s mine but I might be persuaded to part with one.”
“Oh god, fuck… How about we dont do that again..? Feels like i just broke every bone in my body..” Noah muttered, leaning slightly against a dumpster as he tried getting back on his feet. Looking back up from where they´d jumped from.
“Don’t be a baby,” Sofia mumbled as she straightened herself out. Her ankles had taken the shock for sure, leaving her somewhat shaky for a moment. “Next time try a jumping approach and landing rather than...a planned fall.”
“No, no.. I think I kinda get it. I think.” She chuckled. Brooklyn tried her best to understand but in the end, there was only an extent since she was never there to experience it. “Yeah. We could cover ground - if you’ve got a picture of him, I can maybe pass it around Sanctuary and see if anyone had seen him? Cover more ground that way.” Thankfully there were still a few Samaritans out there who wouldn’t mind helping out. Not all faith in humanity was lost.
“I have a few in my bag....I think. Most of them were on my phone, so those are long gone.” Sofie sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve just looked...everywhere, you know? I don’t know where else to look. He’s always been so fucking good at hiding, this is no exception.”