#wildcardthread

[dumbnbroody]

@bloodthirsty-hero answered my ask

Frankly, she’s only just met the man, so naturally she looks wary considering just how strong he’s coming on to her. All she did was finally give him her name and he’s practically falling to pieces. Angel has never had that effect on anyone before. It’s jarring, and a little embarrassing. Part of her believes that this is a prank.

Especially when he can’t contain himself the moment he touches her arm. Angel steps back slightly, offering a confused and cautious chuckle. “Angel’s really supposed to be an ironic nickname. I’m the farthest thing from what you believe me to be…trust me.” Frankly, Angel’s personality screams introvert, so this is all coming as a shock to her.

Her chest stills the moment his touch trails along her collar bones, her face flushing a deep red at an impressive speed. “I’m really not that interesting, you’ve got it all wrong.” She stutters a bit through her sentence, reaching up to grab at his wrist carefully to pause his motions. He had to be drunk, or high. No one in their right mind has ever flirted with Angel. Not because of her looks, she’s pretty self assured that she isn’t ugly—it’s her demeanor. She’s not someone people pine over, she’s someone people look to in times of crisis. That’s all anyone wants.

[dumbnbroody]

♢♢♢Running on Fumes♢♢♢

Angel is running on fumes. It’s been fifty-three hours since the last time she rested her eyes and it’s beginning to take its toll. In between her day job and her ‘hobby’, she’s been stretched thin. Unfortunately for her, as the winter months start rolling in, crime tends to have an uptick in New York before the first snowfall. It happens every year. Thieves and sickos getting their last hits in before they’re confined inside for the holidays, going to church to confess their sins before the cycle starts all over again at the first sign of spring. That all meant extra overtime for Wildcard. Every night for the past three days she’s barely been able to book one criminal before her AI system is alerting her of another break in. 

This night is no different. It’s about 2AM when she finds herself pinning some poor sod against the wall with one of her arms. Angel crawls towards him to really sell just how creepy she can look in the right lighting. She tilts her head to the side, though it’s not nearly as comical as it usually is. 

“What kind of idiot tries to mug a lady in Hell’s Kitchen? You’re lucky I got to you first and not Red. He’s so much messier.” Her voice is extra tinny as it comes out. As much as Angel would love to believe that she’s this scary all the time, this is just another protocol she implemented in her tech. 

Though, as she’s about to continue to terrorize this poor mugger, her saving grace of an AI program alerts Angel of a presence behind her. With a tired sigh, she pulls away, knocking the man out and tossing him into a nearby dumpster. 

“Listen, if you’re here to arrest me, I’m letting you know now that it’s not a good idea.” She swivels her head around, the LEDs on her goggles flickering as she identifies whoever decided it was a good idea to attempt to sneak up on her of all people. One of her bionic arms subconsciously reaches behind her and drops a garbage bag on the man’s head, as if that did anything to hide evidence of her activities. 

Angel sends a sharp look to the offending appendage, and weirdly enough, it looks sheepish at her scolding. 

[dumbnbroody]

[ TOUCH ] for sender to trace one of receiver’s scars (For Angel?)

When Angel came to Billy in need of medical attention and a spare set of clothes that weren’t soaked in her own blood, she didn’t think much of it. She doesn’t have many friends to begin with, god forbid any that knew what she did with her free time. Her ski mask is pulled up over her nose as she cradles a forgotten bottle of lukewarm water. His in company medic had long finished stitching her shoulder together, but she hasn’t bothered to pull her suit back over herself. Her nerves are thrumming with pain, it’s all she really feels like focusing on.

The disassociation doesn’t last long though, the feeling of someone tracing the old angry puckered skin along her arm has her shooting out of her seat. Her skin burns at the memory. The water in her hand spills and what can be seen of her face is set in a grim line. Soon enough, she realizes her mistake, the falter in the mask she shows everyone, and smooths her expression. With a strained chuckle, Angel pokes her arm through the sleeve of her suit and shucks the fabric back over herself, hiding as much skin as possible.

“Thanks for the assist Russo. I’ll throw in a few more upgrades at the end of the month, on the house.” She spits out with a plastic smile, fumbling with her mask to drag it over her face once more.

[dumbnbroody]

starter for @cornelthecursed

“Energy levels low. Input a new energy core at your earliest convenience.” 

“Yeah, yeah I got it.” Angel shoots back at the automated warning from her suit as she clamors over another rooftop with a grunt. Whoever SHIELD sent after her was quick, far too quick to be human. Hell, even Steve Rogers couldn’t sprint that quick. Thankfully her suit could keep up, albeit while burning down all of her spare energy cores as a result, but she was keeping ahead.  Realistically she should’ve known not to push her engineering. This suit is still in beta and shifting it between the claw like arms and strength reinforcement every time she slammed into a wall or corner was pushing her tech. A mechanical arm shoots up to a telephone pole, swinging her at a sharp angle onto the wall of a skyscraper. The claws dig in and soon enough, she’s climbing. Property damage is an unfortunate part of being a vigilante, thankfully no one has sent her the bill yet thanks to the tactical mask shielding most of her face.  Once she makes it to the top, she tugs herself up, aiding her failing tech and collapsing onto her back on the roof. Panting, she sits up and double taps her chest, collapsing the suit and all its extremities back into the backpack like container resting on her shoulders.  “Climb that, narc.” She grits out, slowly forcing herself into a standing position and fiddling with the gauntlet on her wrist, analyzing any exit points in case this weirdly fast individual managed to climb up a sleek, 80 story building.

[dumbnbroody]

Continued thread with @universeofmuses

Angel returns within fifteen minutes, a tray with two cups of piping hot drinks on them and a cheese danish she swiped from the mess hall in the other. She approaches Bruce’s desk and bites down on her danish to free her hand to set his drink down. She twists the cup to show his name scribbled on the side of the cup with a smiley face in her chicken scratch. One thing about anyone with a doctorate, doesn’t matter the area, they all have God awful handwriting. This is why Angel types her notes. She turns to her desk, pausing briefly at the display out and in the open. In her attempts to play it off, she sets her coffee down and tilts the display out of view with a casual hum. Maybe he didn’t look, Bruce is polite like that. Angel plops down on her chair and takes a slow, cautious sip of her coffee, peering over at Bruce for any signs that she should be panicking. “I got the decaffeinated stuff. I just assumed that was better for your uh, condition.”   With a polite smile, she turns back to her computer and quickly clicks away from the tab and to the work that she was actually supposed to be doing. God is it hot in here? It feels like the room just went up twenty degrees.