Jul 7, 2019
So if @mcbacondaddy had been staring 15 mins. at O’Brian’s ID, I’ve been spending a good amount of time staring at Cooper’s ID. From what I can see, Cooper’s his last name and the first looks to be an ‘M’? :00
seen from United States
seen from Belarus
seen from Germany
seen from Israel
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Spain
seen from Maldives
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
So if @mcbacondaddy had been staring 15 mins. at O’Brian’s ID, I’ve been spending a good amount of time staring at Cooper’s ID. From what I can see, Cooper’s his last name and the first looks to be an ‘M’? :00
Coop honestly hits me as a two cream, three sugars coffee person.
Whereas James hits me as a one cream coffee kinda person on a regular day, and a black coffee on a bad/busy day.
Here it is the fan art I was talking about on Mark Cooper! Doing the floofy hair was a pain, but it came out cute, I think. Thanks, @mcbacondaddy for inspiring me to do this drawing, what do you think? It’s how you imagined it?
SOUTH//SOUTHWEST TOUR DATES 🌵🐴🐊✨ 10/17/17 || Albuquerque NM || Sister 10/18/17 || El Paso TX || Monarch 10/20/17 || Dallas TX || Club Dada 10/21/17 || Austin TX || The Sidewinder 10/22/17 || Houston TX || End Hip End It 10/23/17 || New Orleans LA || Three Keys 10/25/17 || Orlando FL || Henao Contemporary Center 10/26/17 || Miami FL || Gramps 10/27/17 || St. Petersburg FL || The Bends 10/28/17 || Atlanta GA || The Drunken Unicorn 10/29/17 || Asheville NC ||The Mothlight 10/30/17 || Richmond VA || The Camel 10/31/17 || Baltimore MD || Metro Gallery (photo by M. Cooper)
Coop and James' friendship is the epitome of 'An extrovert found them, liked them, and adopted them.'
Coop probably found James playing alone in the sandbox when they were in kindergarten and went: :OO FRIEND!
Psst, @diaxfeliz, @alexanderwesker, come shame me for my rambling.
ADRIAN returns from a mission, but comes back very disturbed.
Adrian Price - me
-
-
James stood next to Cooper at the observation deck of the landing area where they both waited for Adrian and her team to get back. They were scheduled to return twelve hours ago but no one’s heard from them since. Everyone had been talking about it, even a couple of the higher ups. Adrian always had a reputation of being wild and reckless but she’d always come back from a mission on time. This was the first time she’s been more than a couple hours late.
“What do you think happened?” James quietly asked despite seeing how uncomfortable Cooper was.
Cooper let out a sigh and looked down at his feet. “... I don’t know. If Adrian was gonna be late in anyway, she’d tell me.” He turned to James, the worry on his face now evident. “She’d tell us.”
Daybreak
Days Gone, Catherine Lyithara (OC)
___
It's a blur.
Everything is a blur.
Pounding footfalls against wet pavement, puddles sloshing up in her wake as she runs. She doesn't stop. There's nothing to stop for.
Every way she turns, there's screaming. So much screaming. From people. From other soldiers. From… from those things. Wildly misshapen, fast, strong.
Relentless. They'd torn through her squad within minutes. Torn through the civilians in seconds.
But they hadn't reached her. No.
Because she'd gunned every last one of them down.
She veers right, into an alleyway. Tucking herself between an overturned dumpster and the side of a building. Her lungs burn, and they'll never cease burning. Not until she's out. Not until she's safe.
Not until she's dead.
A horde passes by her hiding spot. Jittering wildly, howling at nothing in particular. She presses further up against the dumpster. Every last bit of her MP5 had gone towards one horde. Nothing remains in the magazine. The refill clips she had, spent. All she has left, is her sidearm. A piddly little Beretta 92fs. One magazine. Two clips.
It will do nothing against them.
Far in the distance, to her left, she hears yelling. For help, at first, and then for mercy — as screams of pain carry over the chaos of a burning city. It draws the hordes attention, pulling them towards the sound.
It allows for her escape, creeping towards the mouth of the alleyway. Few of them mill about still. Oblivious to her as she slinks by one overturned car after the other, Beretta in hand. It's a useless weapon, but it's a weapon nonetheless. And after seeing what these things can do with their bare hands, she's willing to give it a run for its money.
The whir of helicopter blades draws her attention to the firelit sky. A chopper. Heading inland. To pick up whatever survivors and personnel that may still remain in this forsaken place. It calls the attention of what few monstrosities remain around her, yowling at the black object in the sky as they chase after it. A couple leap at it from the rooftops, plummeting to the streets below with loud, wet splatters when they fail to make the distance.
She moves past a couple of them in her own pursuit of the helo. Absolutely liquidized from the force and distance of the fall. Some though, are still alive, haphazardly pawing at her as she passes by. There's no point in wasting bullets on them. She instead, with all her strength, crushes their skulls beneath her boot. To keep them from alerting others to her presence.
The chopper touches down on the rooftop of an office building, her comms chirping to life. Strange. She'd tried her radio earlier. Several times, and received nothing but static.
"‐Catherine?! Catherine are you alive?!"
She sucks in a breath. Flattens her back against the side of another building, surveying what lays between her and the office. Abandoned and overturned vehicles, a handful of those godforsaken monstrosities combing over the street in search of more prey.
"Catherine?! Catherine please! You have to be alive, you have to-"
"I'm alive, Kensington."
The soldier almost sounds relieved, a nervous, airy exhale audible over the comms. "Oh, thank God! We've lost contact with so many squads, I thought-"
"You thought right, Major."
Her radio goes quiet, though the green L.E.D remains lit.
"You're alone?"
"Yes."
"Do you have enough bullets to get to- Hold on." His voice becomes muffled, though he speaks clearly still, to some other person inside the helo. Something about civilians.
She doesn't have time for this. More of these things are converging on the building the longer she waits. She has to go now.
So she dose. Weaving through the stagnant traffic towards the fire escape, tucked off in an alley sheltered by an abandoned police cruiser. It's a safer bet than the front door, if it's even open. The only challenge now lies in finding a way to get herself up there, and fast. A short way down the alley, there's a large dumpster, wedged between the walls of the ether building. That'll work, providing it isn't as stuck as it looks. She holsters her Beretta, attempting to pull it loose.
It doesn't budge.
From the other side, then.
She vaults the dumpster, only to be greeted by a sight all too familiar. A body, torn clean in half, strewn across the concrete. Fresh kill, suggested by the puddle of crimson pooling around her boots. They were NERO personnel, dressed in the same fluorescent yellow HAZMAT suit as her; their sidearm clutched tightly in their left hand. She can't help the wry smile that finds its way to her lips as she crouches down, pocketing the soldier's ID.
At least they went down swinging.
Back to the task at hand. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself, before ramming her side into the dumpster. Again and again, until eventually it loosens. Despite the armor padding in the suits, her ribs sting. They'll bruise. Undoubtedly. But bruising won't kill her.
"Catherine?"
"Kensington," she mumbles, sucking in a pained breath. She begins to push the dumpster towards the fire escape.
"Are you okay? We heard a racket down below and-"
"I'm fine," she bites, "I'm fine. Just… improvising."
"...Okay, but make it quick. We're nearly full."
"If you have to leave without me, you leave without me."
"Catherine-"
The Major doesn't get to finish, before she snaps the comm link. Breaking the cable clean in half. She doesn't want to hear it. Not after what she'd done.
She climbs on top of the dumpster, her hands finding purchase on the bottom rung of the ladder. This. This is going to suck. She bites her tongue, her ribs aching as she pulls herself up onto the landing, rolling onto her side with a pained hiss. Oh, that fucking hurt.
She gives it but a moment to subside, staring up at the burning night sky. Filled with smoke and ash. The rain does nothing, despite its ceaseless downpour, pittering off her HAZMAT suit.
Perhaps it is crying for those who cannot.
It takes the last of her remaining willpower to climb the stairs to the rooftop, every step sending waves of stinging pain up through her side. She broke something, she's sure of it, but she can't stop now. Not when she's so close.
So. Close.
"Major! She's here!"
She doesn't recognize that voice, muffled and unfamiliar, glancing upward to find another NERO soldier a couple feet away by the chopper. When did… when did she get up here?
She can barely hear the thrum of the helo.
"-Catherine? Hey? Catherine?!"
Kensington stands mere inches away from her now, sided by the other soldier. He sounds so quiet. Why does he sound so quiet? There's a dull ring in her ears now, completely overwhelming the Major's voice.
The last thing she sees is the two rushing towards her.
She feels… warm. Unbelievably warm.
As if she'd snuggled up and fallen asleep next to a fireplace. Like the one her parents had in their basement. But, her parents basement smelled like water must. Firewood. Not… hand sanitizer.
Her eyes flutter open, nearly blinded by dim white light. She blinks a couple times, acquainting herself with the brightness of the room. She's in an MMU, from the looks of it, tucked snugly into one of the cots. Stripped of her HAZMAT suit. How the fuck did I get here?
"Oh, you're awake."
Her head snaps upward to find a man, one she doesn't recognize. He looks incredibly boyish, his short black hair messily smoothed back, with strands of it poking out in every direction. He wears a lab coat, his ID clipped to his breast pocket. A researcher?
He looks somewhat nervous, tapping his foot off the ground as he stares at her. He seems to be pondering something, though she hasn't the slightest clue as to what. After a moment, he stops, and moves towards her.
He seats himself on a stool beside her cot, offering her his hand with a small smile. "Name's Cooper. Mark Cooper. I'm a researcher."
"Lyithara," she says, giving him a firm shake, "Catherine Lyithara."
"Suppose you're wondering how you got here?"
She nods, tentatively pressing a hand to her head. "I passed out, didn't I?"
"You did, and Turner almost got his ass beat for nearly dropping you."
Yeah, that sounds like Kensington. She chuckles, wincing from the sharp, stinging pain it sends down her side.
"Hey, woah," Cooper shoots to his feet, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful. You did fracture a couple ribs. One of the doc's patched you up, but you'll be out for-"
"Six weeks?"
Coop gives her a sheepish grin. "This isn't your first rodeo, is it?"
"It isn't," she clicks her tongue, "but I doubt they'll keep me here. Do you know when I fly out?"
"Tomorrow, at dawn."
She nods, settling back down into the cot. "Thank you, Cooper. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some more rest."
"Absolutely, Corporal."
He dims the lights for her before he leaves, something she's thankful for.
Now, she's alone. Accompanied only by low whir of lab equipment and the hum of the air conditioning. It's peaceful, in a sense. Almost makes her forget about everything that happened before. As if it were just some sort of horrific nightmare. Oh, she wishes it were just a nightmare.
Fatigue washes over her again, lulled into a sort of dreary haze by the warmth of the blankets.
Come daybreak, a new world awaits.
*at the helipad*
A random colleague: *points to Julie, Edmond, and Miles* Are you with those three?
Julie, Edmond, and Miles: *is sitting on each other's shoulders to reach for Miles’s ribbon that got stuck on the main rotor blades*
Adrian, who’s supposed to accompany them on a mission: Uhm, no, I swear I don't know those non-straights.
Cooper, the researcher going out with them: Yes, they're with us.