nicknames: tay (by everyone) montero (by mostly everyone) sergeant (good way to get her attention, also a good way to possibly get punched)
born: new haven, connecticut
age: 29
birthday: 5/2/95
gender: cis female
orientation: homosexual
occupation: former army sergeant / current army reserve
faceclaim; camila mendes
——–
scared of nothin' and i'm scared to death
i can't breathe and i catch my breath
but I keep chasing that same old devil
down the same old dead end highway
——-
bullet points and other things:
Lived in more places than she can count
Both sides of her family were in the army
Settled in North Side for a reason when choosing where to live
Very much aware she probably has PTSD, isn't diagnosed, she isn't looking for one
Middle child of three; only girl
Fueled on energy drinks and sarcasm
Is an overall general menace to society with a chip on her shoulder and a bone to pick with God
full biography
trigger warnings; PTSD, death, violence, talk of guns, blood
She was an army brat. Anything else after high school wasn't an option. Her destiny was set in stone the minute she graduated. There was no other choice. Taylor graduated high school one week, and she shipped off to basic training the following week.
Having been groomed from a young age with years of working out in the backyard and Nerf gun wars with her brothers apparently would come in handy, because she basically cruised through basic training. While the others struggled, Taylor succeeded. It made her a good target for drill sergeants, but she took that in stride…they'd obviously never met her father.
She was three weeks into her first deployment when she first fired her weapon at the enemy. In the dark of the night, an unauthorized person coming towards where she and her crew were camped out after learning of a possible incoming threat. Security detail, they had called it. It was a clean shot and she hated how good it felt watching the enemy drop. She received praise, plenty of it, earned herself a soft spot against one of the hardest lieutenants in her company. It helped her raise rank fast. (She suspected nepotism helped as well.) Was Taylor a kiss-ass? Maybe. She was also resourceful; she knew what she had to do to survive, to embrace the suck and get her squad mates through. If it rose her in the ranks, she'd at least have support.
Despite having fired her weapon, cleared areas, done security detail, it wasn't until close to the end of her deployment where things started to go south. It was hot, the convoy was sweeping a nearby area. The car wasn't far behind them. They thought they'd cleared the area. She would've bet money, her life.
Then the IED went off. Then the gunfire. Anyone still standing was getting picked off. She was bleeding, she didn't know if it was hers. She fired blindly, grabbing a wounded comrade and pulling them behind what was left of the vehicle. Her eyes scanned the area for anything, anyone. Bullets cracked the air by her head. Everything spun around. She couldn't catch her bearings. Her staff sergeant stood, he said something about them being the only survivors. Then again, another crack.
He dropped, and she was alone. Alone, possibly surrounded. In the fog of war, she grabbed a sniper rifle, prayed her marksmanship would come handy. Slowly she managed to pick off a few before she was able to radio for help. The next convoy found her leaning against the destroyed vehicle, covered in blood that wasn't all hers, staring straight ahead. She hadn't been the only one who lived, but she might as well have been; the remaining soldier was discharged for medical reason later.
Her first deployment ended after that. Something about needing mental clearance before her next deployment. So she did what she did best; faked it. Watching almost her entire unit go before her eyes and almost dying wasn't good enough for her father to not fulfill her deployment duty. It felt like as soon as the clearance was in her hands, she was on her way back out, skin a little tougher, edges rougher.
There was a lot more blood the second time around. There were more bullet casings spent. She was out for blood this time, always staying within rules of engagement but jumping at an opportunity. It wasn't until her best friend was killed in front of her that the PTSD dam began to break. That was one death she'd always blame herself for. Knife to her neck after getting ambushed, she hadn't had time to grab her sidearm. Her best friend had time for four final words; take care of them before the knife cut skin and spilled blood and a bullet found it's way through a heart. Two, one could argue; an actual bullet and a metaphorical one.
She started going through the motions after that. Robotic, almost. The promotion she earned tasted bittersweet. She'd broken. The rough edges turned into glass shards and everyone knew it. The senior soldiers, they all knew. They could tell. She wasn't the soldier she was in basic. She'd seen things, and it was affecting her, and it was probably a matter of time before she snapped on someone who wasn't a recruit acting out of line.
Family legacy be damned, when she returned home she immediately requested a move to the reserves. When her father laid into her, she set the phone down, and looked for cities as far away from a base as possible. Listing her choices on a dart board, she landed on Reno. Double bonus; it was away from family too.
She packed the little she had left and booked a plane ticket, signed a lease in the smallest, crappiest apartment she could find. The last place her father would dare to look. Only thing left to do; fake it and hope she made it before her demons followed.
Fucking Valentine's day. When she was still escorting, this time of the year proved to be quite financially benefiting. So, then she could see around it. But since retiring from that life to become something a little more serious, she was faced with truly how dumb this holiday was once again. Grant it, when it came to her niece, she went all out on this holiday. More so to over compensate for the lack thereof during her own childhood. Sure, Valentine's day wasn't just about romantic love, but love in general, right? However, the only person that would benefit from her on such a manufactured holiday was her beautiful niece. But since this gala was less than kid friendly, she fully expected to treat it that way. She made her way towards a familiar face, a large smile on her face, as she held up one of the bottles she just stole from the bar. "Hey -- shots?" She asked, "If we don't start now, how are we supposed to properly enjoyed the upcoming fire part of this ridiculous thing?"
She wasn’t even sure why she was here or who she was here for, because it sure as hell wasn’t for herself. The only thing she ever appreciated about holidays like this were the fact she could stock up on candy the day after and not have to pay an arm and leg for it. She raised an eyebrow. “What’d you do? Rip off the bar?” She paused for a second. Wait, why hadn’t she thought of that? She could be pleasant for that. “Never mind, don’t wanna know. You had me at shots.”
"Wow. Hater. And that's a lot coming from me." Briggs joked lightly. He was always in a better mood after a performance, doing what he loved to do was what kept him going. "Uber's are for people that don't have to move all their instruments and equipment around, obviously. We have a van to drive." He gestured to the stage where his bandmates had began to pack everything up and then turned around to the bartender. "Can I get a water and I'll cover her drink, too please."
“You don’t know the half of it.” Taylor downed another mouthful of drink, full of regret for even asking. “Believe it or not, there are rideshares for that too.” She knew that too well, the amount of money she’d given to Ubers after her first tour was probably enough to put a down payment on a car of her own. “Just so you know, covering my drink doesn’t mean I will judge you any less for even considering ordering coffee.”
Ramon flinched the moment he heard the door slam open, turning slowly on his heel to face her. "Mornin' sunshine!" He said cheekily, a a nervous yet cheerful expression on his face as he met her less-than-amused gaze. "You're ruining the surprise, Tay." The paramedic held up a bag containing fresh bagels. "Got 'em from that one place down the street -- fresh this time, none of that day old Dunkin' crap. I remembered what you said last time." Or was it him that complained about those bagels? Honestly,. with how much Ramon sometimes talked for the both of them, he wouldn't be surprised.
"You would never. Otherwise, how would you get hand delivered breakfast once a week?" He questioned, stepping through the door. "That's right, you wouldn't. Because I'd be dead, or too hurt to walk. And you'd have a guilty conscience and caffeine withdrawal."
She stared at him for a few moments, looking him up and down. She’d never let on that she secretly enjoyed him springing random breakfast on her. Plus…God, did Taylor to make Ramy sweat a little. “It isn’t morning if you’ve barely went to bed.” Her gaze moved to the bag in his hand. “You were the one who complained. Mostly.”
She flicked the knife open and closed. “First of all, if I wanted to kill you you’d have been dead a long time ago.” She stuck her head out the door, checking the surroundings before she closed it behind him, carefully locking each lock she had; first the deadbolt, then the latch, finally the chain. “Second, I don’t have a conscience. Third, I had another three cases of energy drinks delivered, I’d be okay.” Still, she grabbed plates from the cabinet, setting them on the table and nodding.
“Alright, you went through the trouble of fresh. I can try to be pleasant. As much as it’ll pain me.”
Briggs set his guitar down on its stand as the crowd around him began to dissipate, a wide smile on his lips as he shook some of the people's hands and thanked them for recording him before he jumped off the stage easily, clearly with years of experience. "Do you think the bartender is gonna hate on us if I order a coffee instead of a beer at this hour? I have another set at another bar before midnight and I don't know how to even get there without falling asleep?" He told the person sitting by the bar.
How she’d gotten wrapped up in this, she would never know. What Taylor did know, was that with each passing moment she was regretting it. Signaling for another round, she side eyed the man. “Dude. I will hate on you if you order a coffee instead of a beer at a bar at this damn hour.” She rolled her eyes. “You…have you ever heard of an Uber?”
If there was ever something that could draw people together, it was their time in the armed forces. The same could obviously be said for Marines, Navy, etc. But in this case, for both Alibek and Taylor, it was the army. Whilst Ali wasn't necessarily actively serving, she had done for years, from a teenager and into her early adulthood. It was a time she was incredibly thankful for, bringing some semblance of meaning to her life, and ultimately bringing her to her present career path as a paramedic. So, of course, she ensured they caught up as often as she could, knowing what it could do both to and for a person.
The young woman sat across from her company, who had not long arrived, card in hand as she readied herself to partake in the ordering process. "So, what do you want, Montero?" A reassuring smile followed, as she added one further note. "It's on me this time." It was a shared activity when they got together. Never one persons sole responsibility.
There were very few people who could break through the hard exterior Taylor had built up around herself after her second tour. She hadn’t been trying to let anyone in, and somehow Ali had weaseled her way under that shell. It helped they’d both served, and it was in the army. There were few people who really understood what it was like.
“I need it on the record that if you hadn’t sweet talked me on the phone, my ass wouldn’t be here.” To what would probably shock most people; that didn’t have her usual bite to it. She could be an asshole with Ali, but it never lasted. “Ah, when do I ever stray from my usual?” Her hand went to her pocket, eyes narrowing. “Only because I forgot my card at home. Next time it’s on me.”
What was one more sleepless night? Taylor had convinced herself she'd be fine. She'd had plenty of those. One more wasn't going to kill her. Other than her mind plaguing her at every noise and shadow, it had been a peaceful, quiet morning...that had barely started and was seeing her doze off until there were three soft knocks at the door. With an audible growl she lifted her head up. No one she knew knocked like that.
Her hand rummaged through the bedside table drawer, grabbing her knife before she threw the cover back. "Jesus Christ." The locks came undone slowly before she yanked the door open. A lone coffee sat there, but she knew that wasn't all. He was hiding somewhere, probably getting breakfast from his car. Or more energy drinks, she could hope. She punched the bridge of her nose. "Ramy...for fucks sake get in here before I put something sharp through your shoe." She called out softly, reaching down for the coffee. "Because this time I'll fucking do it."
heavy is the crown @taylorxmontero - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
