#cmdr graves

[secondsis66]

Oh of course, I got Shadow Company.

Find it on my Etsy!

[a-phoenix-must-burn]

@cmdr-graves

If someone had told Phoenix before that he was going to be trapped away from home on a mission because of a zombie apocalypse, he would have done the polite thing of smiling and nodding before walking away and making the mental note to never talk to that person again.

Yet here he is, seven months into living in a constant state of survival and miles away from home. Miles. Just a few, now, and Phoenix couldn't be more ready to get back in there. Two Shadows trail behind him, one pulling a wagon full of supplies and the other wearing a backpack full of the camping gear that they've been using since they found it.

As they traverse through the town that they used to traverse on their days off, Phoenix can't help but think about different things that have happened. There's the bar that he got piss drunk in for the first time. The park where he used to feed the stray cats. The gas station he'd always stop by on his way back to base--

Then they were there. The gates of Shadow Company, the place they'd been travelling to for the past seven months (and two weeks and four days, Phoenix notes to himself). It almost doesn't feel real.

Phoenix goes to walk in, only to have someone point a gun at him almost instantly. They tell him to drop his gun, hands in the air, and to wait, even when he points to the worn Shadow Company logo on his jacket.

Whatever. They've waited this long, right? They can wait a little longer.

[saw-shadow-company]

@cmdr-graves

A long day at school turned to a longer day with practice. Phil's performance had been shit today - shoulder pads felt heavier than usual, missing passes and fumbling the ball like he never did.

All too distracted with an irritation itching under his skin. Watching as someone else made his best friend laugh. The same laugh Phil was always able to get out of him. Watching as the collar of Jason's uniform got adjusted.

Of course he'd gotten reamed out by his coach. And while he new his mom would have one of his favorites ready for dinner, Phil wasn't quite ready to go home.

A cigarette dangles between his lips, freshly lit from a shared pack one of them had stolen. Certainly wouldn't help his execution on the field, but it wasn't something Phil could bring himself to care about at the moment.

He nods to Jason when he comes in close, hadn't even him time for either of them to get changed.

"Makin' a new friend, J?"

(Jason was having a great time at practice. Another band had come in to get some drills under their belts- having the director you do, one fresh out of the discipline of DCI- comes with flocking from all over from star eyed students and pupils.

His name was Io, a kid with a brown mop of hair and scarily icy blue eyes. Nicer, cleaner uniform, and the prettiest snare technique Jason had seen in a while. They hit it off pretty quickly, exchanging notes, playing together, standing by each other for drills. The guy slipped right in to making Jason comfortable, a feat in its own right, by making him laugh. Exchanging jokes and playful banter. If you squinted, a bit of angsty attempts at flirtation was hidden in the words of their playful volley.

It was when Io left to go talk with his group that the smell of cigarettes came closer, and Jason turns his head.

Phil always looked so much more filled out in his gear. More intimidating, filling the space more than his presence already had. Eyeblack, sweat. He looked fucking exhausted, and.. pissed?

Jason gives a small laugh at his comment.)

Yeah… guess so. He’s from that other school a county over. Cool guy, you should meet him.

Practice going alright?

(He gestures for Phil to share a cigarette with a small motion in his fingers. He’d kill to have one.)

[lt-banks]

@cmdr-graves

It's a part of work he has mixed feelings about, these networking events. There's no one at Shadow Company he trusts to be able to play nicely in a room full of middle-aged rich folk talking the latest start up investments and animal welfare promotion activities.

And Holly, unfortunately, has been tasked with attending as the representative for their joint venture. What better way to promote team work?

There's a twitch under his eye when he sees her - crouched down outside with a cigarette between her lips looking nothing like the lady he needs to make this successful.

"Banks - c'mon. We're goin' shoppin'."

Her head lifted, braid slipping forward off of her shoulder as she sighed out a plume of smoke, rising to her feet as she flicked the half smoked menthol to the floor, crushing it with a touch more gusto than usual.

It wasn't that she hated shopping—she loved it, especially when it was someone else's money—but comparatively, their tastes... differed. She'd never say it aloud, but Graves was, well... Put together. Formal. Holly on the other hand was a classic British girl. Sportswear, nightclub outfits. Professional functions were out of her comfort zone. But this was her mission. A different kind of mission, sure. But still. She'd do what was needed.

"Yeah, yeah. Comin' now." She murmured, hand slipping into her jacket pockets searching for some gum. "You're not dressing me up as a fuckin... Country club wife, right? I swear to CHRIST, Graves, I am not lettin' you make me look like a fuckin' twat!"

[kombatbrat]

This scene does things to me LAAAWWWWDDDDDD

[cmdr-shadow-01]

@cmdr-graves

Well, I never thought I'd see somebody quite as handsome as I am, but- here ya are. As I live 'n breathe.

Well hot damn. Y’ain’t too bad lookin yourself, stranger. Didn’t know copycats could get so accurate. Scar and everything, huh?

[callsign-coyote]

In Graves' hands are all the pieces of evidence that lead him directly to Coyote's desk. An empty tupperware, a threatening sticky note (that had been replaced with the one with his own name on it), and a mission report that had sat too long without being processed.

The combination of all three have him kicking Coyote's chair when he comes close enough.

If it is a plot to get something from Graves, it's a bad one without a signed note. If it's a benevolent act, then it's not Coyote. Graves is not sure if he likes what's left after that.

"What's your deal?"

@cmdr-graves

“my deal with what - oh.” coyote pauses his task, eyes falling on the container and note stuck to an old report in opposite hands.

“wanted you to stop stealing my shit. not my fault i cook better than everyone here.” he sighs, pushing his chair back from the desk and swiveling toward his commander. “evidently it worked, or that box would be full of cucumbers.”

coyote squints, looking at the note, shaking his head when he notes that it reads DO NOT TOUCH. “…or not.”

“first note said it well enough i think. a third takeout box this early in the week is just sad.” his tone takes on on a condescending hue, jaw shifting to the side.

[hiraeth-muse]

Of course he couldn't deal with it. How was he supposed to react? Hell, if he'd been in her shoes, she'd probably have said the same thing.

Once he drank himself into a stupor hours later, rambling to anyone at the bar that would listen - 'people always take the woman's side', 'I'm not ready to be a dad', he found himself stumbling outside, truck keys in one hand and phone in the other.

It's after the fourth try of trying to get his door unlocked that he gives up on the endeavor and his mind is reeling, taking 14 jumps between trains of thought before his thumbs have dialed Freya's number.

@cmdr-graves

Freya’s in no better state, though she’s avoided the bottle successfully so far. Doesn’t mean she’s avoided the interrogation bunker to try and get the stress out in other ways.

She’s just stepped out of the shower in her quarters when she sees his name flashing on her phone screen, and for a moment her heart does that annoying thing where it speeds up and tries to trick her into smiling.

With a swipe that she tells herself isn’t hopeful, she lifts the phone to her ear.

“Yes, jefe? You all good?” Her voice is… tired. Physically and emotionally, but there’s a slight lift as she thinks about talking to him.