#silvasboys

[gilt-cage-blog]

Look alive, Silvas. I know it’s nearly to early to be counted as morning but--are there even any weights in that?

[il--dottore]

Three’s A Crowd

“Overall… good work.”

The Exterminator’s delivery was indistinguishable from a reaction of displeasure or neutrality, but several sets of shoulders sagged minutely. The small debriefing room was silent despite the dozen or so huddled people inside it, every pair of eyes trained on the clear authority figure. Giovanni sighed silently, post-mission exhaustion creeping into his limbs and eyes, though invisible in his posture.

“Dismissed. Except you,” he pointed to Marcos Silvas, who concealed his disappointment well enough. The room burst into motion as the remainder of the team shuffled all too readily out the door, waiting until they were well down the hall to begin talking amongst themselves. Their voices faded quickly and Giovanni was glad to have shed his audience--well. 

He felt no surprise when he turned to see that Matthew Callaghan, the team medic for this particular outing, had not moved from his spot against a wall. No surprise, only a heavier exhaustion. Irritation, perhaps. Matthew had dodged all of Giovanni’s attempts at meeting outside of work for the last week and some, and over the course of the day had been blandly (pointedly) professional. He stared at Giovanni now with the same mild look which belied a challenge.

“Dismissed.” Giovanni repeated, sharper.

[call-me-vico]

Bait and Switch

Timing was key, especially out in the desert. Sure, hours or days or weeks could pass without even the flicker of a distant rock lizard, but when things did happen, they happened fast. Mere seconds could be the difference between success and failure. In the shadows of a second story ruin, at the very threshold of a doorway that opened onto the leaning skeleton of a fire escape, Vico was poised. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, perhaps, but with the glare of the afternoon sun anyone outside would see only blackness where he stood with knees bent. Footsteps approached in the alley below, quiet and measured on the dirt and cracked pavement. Their owner moved lightly, and kept close to the wall. Thirty feet away…..

Twenty….

Ten…

Reaching up to grip the frame of the empty doorway, Vico swung his leg out and brought it slamming down onto the fragile fire escape landing. With a horrific screeching of rusted and acid-eaten iron, the platform partially gave way, tipping sharply downward and spilling a three-foot-deep pile of sand directly onto the figure passing below.

“What the fuck- VICO-!”

“Ey, ah, Draculoid Silvas, is that you?” Crouched easily on the sheer edge of the floor, Vico spoke into his radio with an exaggerated New Yorker accent. “You’s, ah, gotta be mo’ careful, theah, bud.”

Solidly dusted pale tan by the sand which he’d roughly shaken from his clothing and hair as best he could, Marcos shaded his eyes as he scowled up at Vico. “I could have shot you, you fucking idiot! Why can’t you just do your goddamn job??”

“Now that’s no way to speak to your superior,” Vico admonished him, letting the accent drop. “Besides, I am doing my job. This whole row of foundations is intact, and the buildings are clear for the wiring team to do their inspection.” He stood up straight, feet apart, and spread his arms dramatically. “Just because I have a little flair, a little pizzazz-“

“-you’re not my superior-“

“-a little sense of the showbiz, doesn’t mean I can’t do my civic duty, Silvas.” And with a snappy motion he brushed off first one sleeve and then the other, straightened his jacket hem, and tipped an imaginary cap down at Marcos, who flipped him off emphatically with the hand not resting on his gun. As Vico strolled off to find an entry into the next adjoining building, he began to whistle.

[probationemvitae]

“He lives here?” Warren squinted through the windshield, towards the rundown brick apartment building. “Is that even legal?” The mortar was crumbling away in several places, the fire escape anchors were uniformly rusted, and a crack snaked prominently up the exterior wall from the base of the foundation. Half the windows on the ground floor were boarded over, and all of them were behind black iron bars. The snow might have helped appearances, if it hadn’t been as grey and dingy as the rest of Neon.

Unwilling to leave his car on the street, Warren stayed behind the wheel as he shifted into park and reached across Matthew to unlock the passenger side door. 

“Go get him. I’ll stay here.”

[agoldenlight]

@deadvengeance, @il--dottore, @some-bloody-saint, @silvasboys, @technohavoc

Mm-! Hello!

[themousebombs]

Honey... If you keep worrying so much, you're going to turn grey before you're thirty.

[battery-news]

Radiant News, Battery City!

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Tune in tonight on your regular channel for a SPECIAL FIVE HOUR BROADCAST where you can watch every edge-of-your-seat second of Stacy’s kidney transplant, including exclusive interviews before and after with her loved ones, physicians, and of course, Stacy herself.

Will she pull through? Can the extraordinary skills of Battery City’s finest surgeons give us back the sunny smile of that beautiful little girl? With your friends at Better Living Industries, you can shape the future!

[gilt-cage-blog]

@silvasboys

...Can I speak to Marcos?