Little parts of chapter 2 of Dog Fight, if you'll indulge me. This is mostly an excuse to use the snippet function of ellipsus cause it's so funky.
(I sentenced myself to write long ass chapters that are more than the length of the dissertation I am actually supposed to work on rn, but oh well, I live for the thrill.)
I'm going to make a series to present my fandom OCs, cause I am not normal about them and I can do whatever I want. So I'm starting with my most current WIP :)
Fandom: Sicario (2015), Day of the Soldado
Name: Magdaléna
Nickname: Magda, Mags (don't call her Maggie, she will rip your head off)
Theme song: Not - Big Thief/The story - Brandie Carlile
Ship: it's complicated
chaos junkie with a brutal backstory.
inspired from Lisbeth Salander (The girl with a dragon tattoo) and Case Hardin (God is a bullet)
completely unhinged tbh
Works for Matt (of course), dog-handler relationship, who needs the leash more out of the two of them, who knows? not them.
Matt apologist
Fascinated by Alejandro, also kinda jealous of him and wants to be him at the same time
No, it's not healthy. Nothing here is.
bleaches and cuts her hair herself, also bleaches her eyebrows. ends up looking like shit.
Hesitated to have more face piercings and tattoos, but being pretty means survival.
She's hot, she knows it and uses it
Has extensive insider knowledge of the cartel (brutal backstory fr)
Her plan before everything was to become a dancer, so she is a fan of everything ballet, like the movie Black Swan
Steve's karaoke partner
Weapons: KR-103, glock-17, switchblade. Fighting style: hit hard and fast, make the most damage possible
Circumstance catholic
Mental health? that's for losers
Can't cook for shit, is unwilling to learn
Dark jokes for days
Fanfiction: Dog Fight on Ao3, first chapter out of 4 is published, currently working on the next but it's very long.
A few small parts of the Sicario fanfic I am writing, It's going to be 3 or 4 chapters, OC-centric with my girl Magda. Also it's Matt/OC & Alejandro/OC, but not in a "everyone loves each other way", but in a toxic "I need you to need me and use me" way. Is this edgy and entirely self-fulfilling? yes. Do I enjoy it? also yes. Do these little parts make not much sense without their context? also also yes. Hopefully it will give you, dear reader, the spark to read it when I publish it on Ao3 :).
Warning: violence, swearing
Handler, noun: 1. a person, esp a police officer, in charge and in control of a specially trained dog 2. a person who handles some specified things 3. Matt
Bird-dog, noun: 1. a dog trained for hunting birds, as a pointer 2. Informal a person whose work is searching, as for missing persons 3. Alejandro.
Bloodhound, noun: 1. a breed of large dogs with a keen sense of smell bloodhounds are used in tracking escaped prisoners, fugitives, etc. 2. a person who pursues keenly or relentlessly 3. Magda
*
“And here we have the man of the hour. Are you going to ride out, Matt?
-I think I’ll be sober by then. But you worry me man, when I was told y’all put together a team, I thought you brought it the best.
-Delta team is all fresh from Afghanistan, you can’t do better than this. Can we, boys?
-Are you going completely blind or did you ignore me on purpose?”
Kate jerked her head around to the feminine voice coming from behind. Detaching from the shadow of a stack of chairs, a woman stood there, all smiles. Amongst the burly men, she stood spry and upright. There was a nervousness in her step as she walked towards them, her alert crystal blue eyes focusing on each member of the group individually. Kate almost shuddered when she met her shameless gaze.
“I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed” Matt grinned wide and shook her shoulder playfully. “How someone could even think of doing any of this without you, Madga, I don’t know.”
“I almost thought that you missed the plane. I slept in my car to get here on time and you stroll in like Gandalf?”
“Don’t blame me, I had to haul our FBI liaison here, took a detour.”
Magda’s insistent eyes were on Kate again, examining her up and down unabashedly. Still, her smile was the same, almost insolent. She had bleached hair, home made as attested by the uneven patches and roots. Probably the reason why it was short too, brushing the back of her neck. In another life - and if she didn’t lighten her eyebrows to death too - she would have figured on the front of magazines that Kate was keeping in secret in her bathroom. Her right shoulder and arm were adorned with tattoos, red harmonious lines that followed the curves of her muscles and collarbone under her black tank top. One more was encircling her left wrist and fingers.
“I’ve heard that you were coming, I hope Matt didn’t bore you with details on the flight”
“Well actually he didn’t say much about…”
“You girls are going to catch up on gossip later, I need Magda to tell me about the trip she took."
The young woman raised an eyebrow at his sudden interruption, peeked at Kate, then followed Matt out of the room.
I told you the office would cover the hotel, you’re not a hobo.
My bank account says the opposite.
Their voices echoed against the walls as they walked away and Kate was left alone with Alejandro who was still looking at his phone.
*
“I don’t know how you sit in on these things. I’m no spring chicken, but torture gives me the heebie jeebies.” Steve made an exaggerated shiver.
“Don’t lie, I’ve seen you waterboard that guy in Cartagena” Magda snorted.
“Touché, I really just don’t like when Alejandro does it. He gets too up close and personal.”
“You softie.” She cooed sarcastically.
“Cause you enjoy that? Damn you’re dirtier than I thought.”
“I've been both in the chair and out of it before. Takes a bit to rattle me.” She declared with a pride that camouflaged everything else.
“What, you got your nails ripped out?” He tilted his head, morbid curiosity oozing out of him.
“I thought torture made you queasy?”
“You seem pretty chill about it. Maybe I can learn something.”
“Appearances lie, Steve. I am anything but chill about it.”
“Fair enough.”
He passed her the beer bottle and she took a swig. The bitter aroma combined with the carbonization never failed to make her grimace and she gave it back to Steve.
*
“Please! I have a son!”
Magda looked up at the man whose face was pressed against the wire, eyes wild, and whose fingers desperately mingled with the metal cable. The others pushed him forward with the same desperation, not pleading anymore. Just raw anguish, animals smelling their end. When she answered, the words echoed through the garage in the same way they did in her hollow chest.
“And I had a father”
She kicked the barrel of gasoline down.
Fire caught quickly, it ignited the fuel with bright orange flames, immediately high and roaring. It deafened the screams of the men as their skin blistered and melted against the metal.
Matt was waiting for her outside, leaning against the car, the orange flames reflected in his eyes. The devil, if she ever met him. The man she had made a deal with.
“What a fucking sight” He said, but he was not looking at the fire or the smoke.
*
Sally, the 71 year old owner of the only motel for miles, had seen many types of people come and go in her establishment, truckers, impatient newlyweds, suspicious tattooed groups, suspicious non tattooed groups,... So when she saw three homeless looking motherfuckers coming in - one was even wearing a suit- , bloody, covered in dirt, cinder and plastic bags from Walmart in hand, she only asked for 56 dollars and to not smoke in the room. The girl hobo put her lighter back in her pocket with a sigh.
The room Magda, Matt and Alejandro got was at the end of the block and looked like most cheap motels would, smelled like Even the tv looked like it belonged to the last decade.
“I call dibs on the shower” Magda threw her bag on the floor, and rushed to the bathroom, already maneuvering out of her grimy shirt.
“Just don’t take all the hot water!” Matt called after her, but the sound of flowing water overwhelmed his voice. “I swear to God, if I get a cold…”
“With the temperature outside, I’m pretty sure you won’t need warm water,” Alejadro noted and took off his vest.
*
Like a devil, Magda kicked, bit, scratched, punched, everything to keep them off her.
A sharp pain in the back of her head. For a second numbness, as her face hit the floor of the bus, right next to Alejandro, then the dark.
Alejandro was the first to come to, the dark around him suffocating, before he realized it was the bag duct tape on face, especially tight on his mouth and nose. His legs were tied, his hands too, behind his back and his fingers found those of Magda, limp.
He thrashed around, but was quickly subdued, someone sat on his back and pounded him with their fists, until everything was black and silent again.
When Magda opened her eyes, the vehicle she was in was slowing down, the rocky terrain making itself very much felt in her painful cranium.
Next thing she knew, she was being dragged out of the trunk into the harsh headlights that directly flashed into her eyes, blinding. Her legs scraped on every smallest rock through the fabric of her pants and dug deep into her knees as someone held her down by the neck, forcing her to bend low. Through the thick tape, she could only breathe in brisk heaves, not made easier by the blood that had dripped from her scalp onto her face and seeped under the sticky plastic.
Around her, cars and men, young and old, she couldn’t see Isabel, but Alejandro was right in front of her. They needed four people to keep him on the ground, he was fighting them so hard. The man from earlier was crouching a bit further, scratched his head and called out to one of the boys. He had sparse peach fuzz on his cheeks, above his lips, and a shirt that his mother must have spent a good while ironing.
A gun was handed to him.
*
If you dish it out, you have to be able to take it.
Magda had lived by this since the day she had been taken. She had always felt justified, she had taken enough beatings, torture and worse in her life to allow herself to get rid of anyone that needed to be.
She sat on the floor of the empty cell, they hadn’t been even decent enough to give her a bed. The entire left side of her face felt swollen, warm and pulsated with pain. She didn’t dare touch it, at least she could still partially open her eye.
It was strange how after everything she had done for the American government, this was the one kill that would put her out of commission. One cop, sneaking up behind the Delta team, gun drawn. Karma had almost got Matt that time, but luckily for him, Magda had heard the bastard breathing just a tad too loud before he pulled the trigger. One bullet to his chest, another to his face and it was over.
One crooked cop amongst many. The only mistake was that he wore an American uniform. And his colleagues were nearby. Damned joint ops.
Then everything came tumbling down, almost got to a shootout between the Delta Team and the Phoenix PD. Magda was shoved to the concrete ground by multiple men at the same time, taken away, Matt’s promise to get it sorted in her ear.
As much as she trusted Matt - which in itself was highly situational - she had no belief that he would manage to get this sorted as quickly as he hoped. Her entire existence in his team, her link with the CIA was built on probable deniability. She would be thrown under the bus. Hard.
