LOCATION: ARASAKA ESTATE, late enough at night to be nearly considered morning, closed off underpass, guide-rails disturbed by the car which crashed into them, blood on the pavement. SCENARIO: accidents happen and it wasn't even a nice car to begin with, everybody calm down. upon john's ( requested ) arrival rogue would be found wiping prints from the interior of the car in question, a little bloody but in good spirits overall.
the familiar sound of wheels running across gravel would herald his arrival, with rogue using the audible signal as her cue to hike up her dress and show a little leg in the hopes of being picked up just like the hitchhikers of yore ... or so the movies would have you believe. ( it could never be said that she failed to find comedic relief in any and all opportunities presented to her. appropriate or not. )
fun over. back to work.
with a GET OVER HERE ( please ) gesture rogue would hurry the other forward, the backseat of her now smoky vehicle indicated with a finger jab as she once again got on with the process of making it seem as though she'd never been in the car to begin with. " you have room for those? " she would ask, referring to the accordion style file folders which could be seen peeking out from underneath the back of both seats. " those're the only things that matter here, so if you don't have room i hope you do have comfy shoes on - 'cause well'll be walking if we need to. "
a pause, a moment of thought, and then ; " also, hi. thank you for actually answering your fucking phone. "
surprise ask to talk about robert linder versus johnny silverhand and johnnyâs own thoughts and feelings on identity
   robert john lin.der was born on november 16th 1988. his mother died shortly after he was born and his father was his primary caretaker. his father was a chain-smoker, an alcoholic, and was often physical with robert due to existing resentment. after selling six-year-old robert to a nomad clan for a pack of cigarettes, his father died in a street fight shortly thereafter and robert was left with no one. although his parents' home was reclaimed by the bank after foreclosure, robert eventually inherited his parents' belongings and most of the contents was donated to the nomad clan â save for his father's military paraphernalia which included an impressive set of badges and many photos of heroic-looking troops.
   robert became very independent in early adolescence due to necessity and was enrolled in public school to avoid being placed in a group home. robert lied about the status of his parents for several years during his schooling and although he was an average student, he quickly concluded that school was a  waste of time  and didn't facilitate the future that he envisaged for himself. he wanted to make a name for himself and spent a lot of time at record shops in town, often spending hours in the listening stations; he would later sell the remainder of his father's belongings to buy the first record of his own: bey.ond the valley of 1984,  the plas.matics' second studio album â which he relentlessly listened to and fantasized about being a member of the band. music became his main form of escapism and it ignited a desire to play the songs himself, teaching himself well enough to occasionally play for the nomad camp as a stand-in and finding a mentor in the camp's resident guitar player.
   robert enlisted at the age of fourteen after being inveigled by war propaganda and what was gleaned from his father's belongings. he believed that the military was his  golden ticket out of his substandard living conditions and could help him make a name for himself, persuaded by the advertised promise of fame, money, and glory. he acquired the skills needed for basic training over several months with intent to better his candidacy, lying about his age and education to ensure that he met qualifications; little did he know that the recruiters were privy to his age but they ultimately didn't care, choosing to prioritize more bodies over the welfare of an underaged applicant with no family.
   robert lasted less than a year as an active duty soldier in the second central american war. he witnessed how the NUSA and the corporations involved in the war treated the soldiers and reduced them to cannon fodder in nicaragua, choosing riskier operations to seize territory and resources to further their acquisitive ambitions; very few soldiers were planned to return from the war, much less be honourably discharged.
after an enemy grenade was thrown at them both during a frenzied firefight, robert watched in horror as his closest friend in his platoon threw himself on top of the explosive and bodied most of the explosion; the residual damage took robert's left arm and it was replaced with an arasaka-brand bionic replacement, an operation which was performed while robert dipped in and out of consciousness due to budgetary constraints on anesthesia. the military's initiative for cybersoldiery extended beyond initial installation of standard enhancements and due to the granular verbiage in the enlistment contract, the experimental cybernetic surgeries were preemptively authorized to ensure the patient could return to battle.
   once the NUSA's controversial tactics and their immoral pursuit of fiscal acquisition were exposed, many american soldiers withdrew their support and abandoned the war entirely to return home. johnny was amongst them and although the NUSA launched a smear campaign against these ' unpatriotic ' soldiers and condemned them as war deserters in hopes the greater public would turn on them, johnny never regretted or doubted his decision. everything had been taken from linder, so silverhand pledged to do the same to those who benefitted most from the corrupt system.
   johnny silver.hand reclaimed his arm as a key part of his identity and scratched out all traces of its former brand, flaunting a new name which would soon be plastered on the same type of vinyl records that robert listened to back in the day; the hand was now a companionate conduit for his rage, not a trauma. linder was naïve but silverhand could see the systemic issues for what they were. linder couldn't change anything but silverhand could make a difference through music and spectacle. linder was already a shadow of himself when he crawled to his final resting place at the hotel pistis sophia, all so silverhand could be born.
   to the engram, linder is  flawed and lesser to silverhand â overwritten and recalled only as a cautionary tale. they are distinct.
   to the human, linder is silverhand stripped raw â the core of all that silverhand is and who he's fighting for. they are not mutually exclusive.
â i've heard a few things about you. â ( from bucky )
  There were plenty of things The Winter Soldier could've heard about the living dead girl. J.J Jameson's podcast, Just The Facts was popular and was the hub for weird rumors about Spider-Zombie. Like, that she eats people. Cassandra went out of her way to create an account for Spider-Zombie to set the record straight that she is NOT a cannibal. However, Bucky didn't seem to be the type to listen to news like that.
  Her head slowly tilted, Spider lenses narrowed at the man out of time.
   â Like what? â
  Instead of suggesting some of the headlines that she has seen in the past, Cassandra decided to bite her tongue and let James speak first. Maybe it was something good for once and not some wicked tall tale.
the question finds him in the kitchen, the safe house having long since gone quiet all around them. the smell of coffee on the stove is almost enough to drown out the lingering scents of antiseptic and blood. almost, but not quite. frankie had expected the questioning to fall on his head, sooner or later, but he has been a little too distracted in the last couple of hours to pay @yllowpages much mind. they had worked well together, not needing many words between them. muscle memory had done the trick, or maybe it had been their common goal driving them forward with no hiccups to speak of.
something must have given him away; maybe the tension in his hands, or maybe the aching familiarity he has been moving around with since they arrived. the relief, too, has been clear on his face since he left his unconscious little brother in the main bedroom â pale and bruised, but whole. just resting.
'' no, but it's one hell of a way to meet someone, huh? ''  he snorts, halfway to a muffled laugh, shoulders shaking with it. he can feel a dull ache spreading from there, a different sort than the one he's gotten used to during all the years spent doing anything but shooting down people. he has probably pulled something in his right shoulder, a nerve or a muscle. he fills two mugs, wincing slightly as he settles one on the counter for john to take. at this point it's either very late at night or very early in the morning, but it doesn't matter much with the day they just had.  '' i'm not in the business anymore. that was a long time ago. ''
he could leave it at that, but he's not winston. there's no need to have this conversation feel like pulling teeth from him. besides, there is no point in leaving john in the dark, not when they already have two acquaintances in common.
'' frankie. '' Â he extends the hand that's not holding a mug full of steaming coffee, blue eyes tired but lively, crinkled at the corners by a genuine smile. Â '' you already know my brother. ''
she's lost track of time again. it happens whenever she ends up preoccupied with something else â getting lost in a good book, rearranging the furniture in her apartment, strumming on her guitar and messing around with a new song. today's distraction is significantly less pleasant. they're getting into night shoots with fight dirty and she's sitting in her trailer ahead of going into hair and makeup, inspecting the state of her forearm. bruises blossom like flowers, an array of purples and blues that are accented by the angry red marks that have scabbed over. a tabloid journalist had gotten a little too bold and handsy earlier, taking personal offense to jordan ignoring their very loud, very obnoxious questions ( jordan! do you have a comment coming up on the seven-year anniversary of the massacre? ). maybe they didn't know their own strength â or maybe they had wanted a reaction. if that was the case, they got exactly that. she had no doubt word of her mean right hook was making the rounds on social media right now. it's a secondary concern for her; at the moment, she's trying to figure out how pissed the director and head of makeup are going to be and if this is something they can cover up at all.
the door to her trailer opening startles her. she jumps like a kid who's been caught snooping where they shouldn't â silly, considering it's her trailer â and there's no use in hiding the state of her arm. johnny stands in the doorway, coffee in each hand, beaming one moment but it doesn't last. he's quick to slide into concern, anger â protectiveness?
â who did this to you ? â
yeah, protectiveness.
' I'm surprised you haven't already heard. ' a subtle means of deflection; and still, she sighs and sinks into the chair, her hand brushing her hair away from her face. ' I had a bit of an altercation with a reporter. it looks worse than it feels. ' that last bit is debatable, but she manages a small smile as she looks back up at him. ' promise me you're not going to make a big deal out of this? '
            â you knew it was coming, johnathan. â   winston says, his tone is stern, finality embedded in every syllable. he knows just as well as johnathan should, the rules are all encompassing only because everyone follows them. enforcement works only when there are individuals to do the dirty work. eyes dance over @yllowpagesâ. he had tried to warn him, but words of caution often go unheard in the heat of the moment.   manager sighs.  â there is very little in the world a man has choice in, and more often than not he makes the wrong one. â  which is to say : i tried to warn you.
