New Character Introduction
Name: MK Canon Universe: Original and Fantastical Species: Possessed Human\Avatar Muse Type: Open to all Bio and info [complete lore a work in progress we appreciate your patience ^_^]
Keni
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@theyxlived
New Character Introduction
Name: MK Canon Universe: Original and Fantastical Species: Possessed Human\Avatar Muse Type: Open to all Bio and info [complete lore a work in progress we appreciate your patience ^_^]
hi so instead of doing drafts i refreshed my theme and redid muse lists and bios. also added someone new in the mix while another got pulled whilst i work out brand new lore for a whole new kinda magical being im rather proud of.
Starter: Sasha @theyxlived
Shit.
One was a cakewalk...
Two was doable, but annoying...
Three was a fucking problem, but he wasn't expecting four.
The pain radiating from his head felt as if it were being squeezed from the inside out–which was exactly what was happening. The four yellow-eyed demons decided to sync their telekinetic attack, leaving him little choice but to run as blood dripped down from his nose. Not wasting any time, he jumped from the balcony and landed with a thud onto the sidewalk below. Starling a couple who'd been in the middle of a romantic interlude, Boden stumbled forward as he muttered, "Don't stop on my account."
Bounding down the street, he waited a good block before looking over his shoulder to find they were indeed exiting from the door and making their way towards him. Clearing another block before he tucked himself down an alley, where he ran as fast as his legs would carry him several more blocks. Moving so fast, he actually ran right past the illuminated door and quickly and loudly came to a sloppy stomping stop. Turning on his heels, he passed through the doorway and, without a second glance, immediately closed and latched the door. Pressing his back to the door, his eyes settled across the room.
It was then he found out he wasn't alone.
A young girl stared through him, and he realized his mistake. Looking down, he caught the blood on his shirt, knowing just how unpresentable he must have appeared. Lifting to show his palms, he cleared some blood from his throat, "Heya...sorry. I didn't mean to startle or scare ya. I just need to hang out for a few minutes before I head back out there," he paused, taking in a deep breath before he continued, "I don't have to move from this spot. If you could just let me stay."
Letting his eyes drift, he looked around, trying to figure out where the wonderful smell of bread was coming from, but instead found he was surrounded by herbs. The pretty blonde was working tarot or something. The hunter was prepared to head back out at her request.
Oh she had seen to the littlest thing hadn't she? The tiniest little action that would change the course of so many things. A door left open meant nasties didn't get their dinner. Meant a man got to keep himself one more day. An officer on the brink of quitting doesn't find the body because there is none to be found. That same officer goes home and gets help that night instead of the alternative. And a family stays together into something that passes out of her sight.
"Hm."
A tiny sound in the coming and going of the world. Perhaps a glowing example of its maker. She passes between and around and through with every open and close of her shop's doors. Wake up in Paris, have dinner in Bangkok. She didn't exactly make the rules, even if she always seemed to be where she needed to. And where she needed to was always where she was thinking about at the time. It was a convience and sometimes not that too.
A snuffling at the door.
"Oh alright, I'm coming, Pooka. He's still so far away but alright, alright I'm coming."
The repeat is more for her benefit than the dogs. Sure feet though eyes do not work carrying her to the door. The knob found and turned. Old wood that creaks and groans. A turn away but oops...no no. Not there. A little less open, that last stop is going to throw off his balance. So right about---there. That should do it. And she moves away again. Finding some where more comfortable to be. The chair by her tarot table will do. Pooka disappearing beneath the long table clothe for now.
It doesn't take too long. To her credit she hears him before she...sees him. And despite knowing it both is and isn't doing so--time slows. Unseeing eyes that blink slow and deliberately. Oh he is so much more than her vision had given hint to wasn't he? It shouldn't surprise her and yet it does. Takes moments for her mind to catch up. To remember she has seen this all before in two second bursts. Caught glimpses tucked between sunbeams.
He's dripping in honey gold and liquid rust, this one. Burning brightly and hot like a dying star that doesn't know how. There is beauty to him so great that it hurts and pain so deep that it burns. And it becomes a kaleidoscope at the center. A beautifully and terribly fashioned beacon. Made only that much more vivid against the void like back drop of what lies behind him. And then all at once--
The sudden woosh of him going by the door. The blur of color and streaks of warmth and coldness too. Mixing all together as he--in an almost cartoon like way--comes to a halt and doubles back. Streaking through the door, the knob right where it needed to be for him to catch it right. And there's another woosh of pressure when old wood connects with older wood. Sealing them in like a vacuum.
She gives a smile when he makes apology, the warbling colors along the edges of him feel kind. There's so few people like that anymore. Still she's standing up near the end of his hope he can stay here. A hand held up though her eyes don't move from empty space.
"I would...I would perhaps not open door again just now, da? Travel between... places can be bumpy."
Her accent isn't too thick but the fact English is not her first language is evident. Unmoving eyes don't track him at all as she turns to step out from behind the tarot table. Pooka peeking out from beneath the table cloth. A curious nose that twitches back and forth but nothing more. No growl. No bark. No heckling. Though after a good second of gauging the dog moves. Finds space to be at her left.
"Would you like drink? Something to eat? I was just heating water for tea. It will help headache. One shadows give you, da?"
A touch of two fingers to her own forehead to emphasize the issue and the fact she means to help. Forgetting that might freak him out. Forgetting that he hadn't told her that yet. That he might have chosen not to entirely in this collection of events. But its said now and there's no taking it back. Maybe karma would be kind because that is truly all she had meant by it.
Kindness.
"Worry not. Shadows can not find you here."
Said like an after thought in the corners of the small smile offered him.
"I am Sasha."
Getting to the plane, getting his hostage all set up and properly manacled, didn't take Eggsy too long. Soon, he was slipping out of his break in clothes, putting his suit back on, and stepping out of the bedroom at the back of the plane. He sat down across from his prisoner, taking in the man's appearance. There was something about him that was tickling Eggsy's brain, but he couldn't tell what it was.
"Merlin," he said, making sure that there was a sure shot of the man's face through his glasses. "You pick up anything about him, mate? Any sign of him anywhere?"
"I'm looking," Merlin's voice came through the comms, the prisoner's face flashing across the glasses screen and filtering through his program. Eggsy closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the way everything swam for a few minutes. He was getting used to the way Merlin's program worked, but it made him a bit nauseous to watch it run when he was on the plane. "His face has shown up in different systems around the world, but no one has a name for him. It looks like you've captured someone invisible."
"Bloody fantastic," Eggsy grabbed a drink from the mini bar, a glass of scotch to sooth his nerves. The job hadn't exactly gone smooth, but now he had someone new to deal with. "Ain't anyfing easy, is it," he took a sip of the scotch, letting out a quiet breath. "What sorta jobs he done then?"
Merlin gave a sound of disapproval, probably because of Eggsy's coming through. Merlin hated when Eggsy let his accent loose while he was still on the job. It was part of why Eggsy did it. Had to keep the old man on his toes, didn't he? Life would be too boring without it.
The energy that ran through him was making him jittery, and Eggsy sent a charge of it through his drink, watching the way it made the scotch bubble.
"Eggsy," Merlin's voice was disproving. "If he wakes up and sees your drink you could blow your cover. Control yourself."
The charge cut off, scotch returning to normal. Eggsy watched the way his prisoner started to move, sitting up and setting aside the drink. Now was when the fun started. "Merlin, mate, 'e's wakin' up."
"Yes, lad, I can see that. Let him wake up fully before you start asking questions."
Eggsy rolled his eyes but forced his body to relax, leaning back in his seat. He knew what he looked like, a posh gentleman in complete control of himself. He'd learned it from Harry and it was something that he thought he pulled off quite well. The appearance of a gentleman was something he'd practiced, but even Roxy said he'd figured it out.
It was a relaxed man that waited for his prisoner to wake up, hands flexing on the armrests of his chair as Roxy lifted the plane into the air. He still hadn't gotten used to flying. He discretely yawned to pop his ears before looking at his companion.
"Are you awake," he asked in his best version of Harry's posh accent. "I've got a few questions for you."
A pin of light in a vast sea of black. That is what waking up is for the first millionth of a second. When your brain's still receiving that first moment of wakefulness. And that parts peaceful all things considered. Its everything else that comes after thats anything but. And maybe it would be easier if he could wake up in stages. Go one step at a time but ever since the day his parents had died, Pietro had never woken easy. Never simply shifted from asleep to awake. It was always violent and this time was no different.
Are you awake, I've got a few questions for you.
A head snaps up. Upper and lower limbs trying to go in opposite directions, like he's trying to dodge something. Like a loud noise had startled. Like he was trying to grab something because of it. Eyes that flicker back and forth between their natural blue and bleeding red, as they dart about the space. The brightness battled with rapid blinks. Where was he? When was he? Wait no..no he meant where was he. And maybe he could have grasped it but then there's blinding pain. An ache at the center of mind, radiating outward like a throbbing wound.
Pietro?
Sunt aici, soră, dar-- [ I am here sister, bu--]
Why does she sound so far away? What---what is that? It...it hurts. And still flickering eyes are squeezed shut. A nose scrunched up in the process. A head that is shaken in a chaotic pattern and rhythm of speed for moments before it stills. What the fuck is that? Something pushing back something blocking something--hands twitch. Fingers flex and brows gather tightly over slitted open eyes. And its only breathes of a second before his mouth is skewing into something angry. Into something ugly.
He can't feel them can he? Can't feel the strings the tesseract had stitched into his skin. They're there but he can't feel them. And that enrages doesn't it? Bleeds red through his gaze. Red splattered blue that rise up to look at the one that's caught him. Or maybe the one that hired another for his catching. Because whoever this is doesn't appear to have worked a day in his whole life. Pressed and primed like a proper gentlemen. The cut of his words and accent. And yet there's something else, something hidden. Something that Pietro knows he would know in a moment if not for the aching throb.
And while it hurts. While it sends blood oozing from where the bullet had ripped into him, Pietro leans ever so slightly forward. Head tilted to one side before he's doing the only thing his pride will let him do in the moment.
Red is gathered up behind his teeth and its spit onto the suit's shoes. Splatters a bit on the carpet that probably cost more than Pietro's whole childhood wish list. And a miracle sits back. His chin rising up a little further than necessary. Because he will answer no questions, and the moment he is given an inch of breathing room he will make this suited audacity pay for it.
@ronmanmob
"You, little one are the culmination of magnitudes. You are everything we could have ever hoped you would be. And what you become is a story yet to be written. Your father shall write it into the lines of this existence, and I will paint its beauty in the stars. You are stardust, little one. You are wildness. Our magnum opus. Eternity of one."
Independent Multi-muse blog 18+ to read | 21 to interact mun 30+ mature themes
@goodlawman insp. / The Future’s Memory Is Short
“1694 Brook Valley Road…New York…this year…August Twen–twenty-second. Se..seven thir—teen am.”
“What?”
“Don’t be late.”
Saoirse Ronan
Leon always enjoyed when the weather was perfect, giving him the ability to use his motorcycle without a care in the world on his way to work. That had been the plan considering how nice it was outside. But that could wait, he had to handle a few things first before he found his way going to work. Starting that off with a workout. Going to the very gym in his building where he could lift some weights, throw several combinations of punches at a punching bag, and eventually cool down with a run on a treadmill. Nothing too insane, just enough to get what he was needing today. His off day was where he planned to go more in depth with his workout but that wasn't for a few days. It took up a good chunk of his afternoon, grabbing a quick bite and a protein shake in the kitchen soon after to at least begin getting ready for work. With all of that consumed, he made his way to the shower and was able to clean himself off from the workout minutes before.
Standing in the mirror, he was able to put the final touches on his appearance. Gel used to slick back his hair for the night as he combed through it to make sure it stayed in place. Only when that is done to his satisfaction does he step back to observe himself one last time before moving to put on his black long sleeve shirt and grabbing his jacket for the motorcycle to finish it all off. One last check of the weather to make sure nothing would change and off he went. Grabbing the keys, he went down to his bike in the garage and started the engine. It roared to life, letting it warm up enough before he started to back out of his spot and drive out of the parking garage. There's little worry from the blond as he begins his commute. It was something he had done plenty of times since he moved to the city here. Though it did make him wonder if he was up to move soon, no that shouldn't be the case. He wasn't here that long just yet. Besides, it wasn't like it was complicated to get from his place to work.
It was almost instinctual to drive the route he knew so well, everything almost muscle memory as he moves through the streets. And on top of it, everything had seemed normal. Why would today be different? He was wrong of course, wrong as he hears a horn and a person standing almost in his way. He has to react fast and so has to make the bike fall, a shame really, but it was the quickest way to make it stop. Thankfully he has dark jeans on, a buffer somewhat as he skids to a halt. No doubt that would leave a mark but he'd heal. It wasn't like it would be permanent, nothing was on his skin anyway. Well, aside from the scar on his chest but that was something else entirely. Slowly he rose, looking over at her with a furrowed brow as he wonders why a woman was standing there like that. Almost like an immovable object. However, it wasn't enough to stop the rest of traffic. And so the blond moves fast, arm wrapping around her waist after running over to make her move and pull her towards the sidewalk.
Just then the rest of traffic moves along, his bike thankfully more off to the side and easily avoided by the rest of the cars who didn't want to ruin their vehicles. Stil, he takes in a deep breath and looks her over a moment before looking back towards his bike. "Are you alright? I mean...you might be a little insane for that." He half mumbles, no moving back towards his bike to get it up and wheel it the rest of the way over to her. Thankfully he had left early enough where this little incident wouldn't make him late. "Not everyday someone decides to step into traffic for....no reasons." He says looking her over again. She seemed fine, but that didn't mean she wasn't entirely okay. He doesn't say much of anything else after, moving slowly then to look about his bike and see what damage was done. A curse in his native, modern tongue leaves his lips as his head shakes. He'd have to work that out later, maybe his day off if he had the time. He was going to be a little sore on top of it but that wouldn't matter and he only had to endure it for a little bit.
Sighing upon all of this hitting him, he gets back onto his bike but looks back towards her. "Just...be careful next time, please?" He says, hoping that was something that could get through to her. But he doesn't move yet, he remains where he is to make sure nothing else happened until he knew she was completely okay.
Its--well--a lot more weightless than she imagined but also a lot faster. The only thing she can equate it too is being yanked at center with the speed of well--her brother would call it Mach Jesus. But of course she couldn't have possibly moved that fast, humans couldn't do that and speed wasn't her particular flavor of touched by an alien. Or wait okay that joke wasn't bad.
She hears him talking, hears the questions. But the truth is her stomach is still in the middle of the street. The change in futures flicker flashing in her mind like a broken tv for seconds before beginning to settle. And once she can stop blinking so rapidly--they go very wide...very very quickly. Because her vision hadn't shown her this part had it? The part where the sickening crunch of a person is replaced with a ...well wall of one. Jesus Christ what did they feed these guys?
"Itworked! Ohyourbiggerinperson--Imean sorry not---Imfine. Insane? Oh yes that was totally not...imeani don't make a habit out of walking into traffic that's nuts right?--Yes! I'm totally fine and imtalkingtoomuchs---."
Eyes. Oh no. Oh no no no no. And its everything she can do not to look around them. Not to meet the gaze of anyone currently staring at her like--like she'd just done something absolutely insane. Because she had...just done something absolutely insane that is. Oh Z was going to murder her. Straight sororicide. He would get away with it too. And she would not blame him one single iota, though she hopes he wouldn't give Pooka away.
Pooka. Her dog. Her dog that was still---
"I...my dog. He...he was right here I--" Everything is a mess. A complete and entire disaster. Her sight was never meant to be looked at in real time, at least not at this degree. And its becoming a little hard to keep straight what's already happened, what's happening now and what could happen in the next five minutes. But she does her best to shoulder it because the alternative has her wanting to throw up with the vertigo.
No. Nope. We are not doing that Sasha Petrov. You will keep a grasp upon what very little pride you might still have left.
If her life had a narrator this is the part where they would say : she did not in fact have any pride left. And if she did it probably got lost some where in between:
"Ohmygodthisisnothowanyofthiswassupposedtogo. Хуй. Imcrazy. Ilooklikeacrazywoman. imnot. iswearimnot. IdidnotleavethehousethismorningthinkingheySASHAweshouldWALKoutintoTRAFFIC! Ruinthiscompletelylovelymansmorningandput-h-his--"
Every record in the entire world could have scratch in this moment and it would not have held a candle to the harshness of Sasha's own mind coming to a screeching and immediate halt. Hands coming up to cover her mouth as she finally looks back up at her rescuer. The horror showing clearly in her gaze. Even as it really dawns on her that not only is he bigger in person but his eyes are much brighter. Like something caught between sea foam and evergreens. Its a wide range she knows that. Its why she thought it. Or well, will later--its complicated.
"Oh no! Your bike! Oh no...no no no. Oh I'm so sorry I---"
Hands move to her cheeks as she turns to look at the beautiful thing set funny from the sidewalk. Trying to see something upon it that would cause it irrevecapable damage. She doesn't know the first thing about motorcycles accept that they're pretty to look at and her father would kill her if she ever got on one. Not that that had stopped a day dream or two about doing that exact thing from happening. Especially that summer in the French countryside.
"Is it...is it broken? Oh gods please tell me its fixable? I'll...I'll pay for repairs...or i guess my insurance will?"
Not that she has any idea how any of that works. Great, now her dad was going to kill her too.
reblog if youre still not over the library of alexandria
[ so like would anyone want to rp with Joe from Bladerunner? like is that even a thing? am i like 80 years later per usual? should i add him? a bird is trying not to look right now cuz like they need yet ANOTHER muse ]
He's a retrieval specialist. People hire him to retrieve things that they want, or that they have lost, things worth more than money. Eliot is good at what he does, at finding lost things and making sure they make it back to the person with the most money. This is a job, after all, and Eliot doesn't ask questions as long as he's paid. He knows the value of looking the other way. Ignorance has saved his life more times than he cares to admit. It is a careful thing, his practiced ignorance, but it is the price he pays to do what he does.
One thing that nobody knows about him is that Eliot has... well his mama calls it the Sight. Not clairvoyance in the way that new age hippies who pay twelve dollars for a pound of pine nuts think. Eliot doesn't see the future or anything like that. But he does have an awareness of the more magical things in the world. He's always been able to see through magic, though he hasn't tested it out on more than granny magic between Appalachia and Eastern Europe. The magics in the Middle East and Asia worked differently, but Eliot can still get a feel for them to a degree. Enough that he knows when they're there. The Sight has gotten him into and out of trouble before. He doesn't have much else in the way of magic, but the Sight has always been enough for him.
So when the woman he's following appears in double, Eliot knows there's more to her. He isn't sure what yet, has never seen hair as ethereal and silver before, but he knows she isn't the blonde she appears to be. It's enough that he decides to follow her closer, to watch her every move. He's on the hunt for a crystal violin, and, seeing this woman, he's positive that there's more magic to the violin than he originally thought. That does complicate things, if only because Eliot only carries the charms and hexes that his mama made, and mama only knows the kind of magic you learn over a cauldron in the kitchen, something he has a feeling won't work out here. He thinks he should have brought his other magic with him, the things older than the trees, spells he got in places he wishes he could forget. But he doesn't have them, so he'll have to be especially careful.
He follows her to the pickup, watching through a window as she touches the violin he practically can't see for all the magic wrapped around it. That violin is exactly what he's been sent after, but, seeing the woman hold it, Eliot's almost tempted to call the job a wash. Anything that fits so well as that violin does with a person must belong to them, and he has a feeling that this woman and this violin were made for each other. He's a criminal, but even he hesitates to separate two things that so obviously belong together.
Still, he follows her when she leaves, stays in the shadows as she travels through the city. He would lose her for her height if he couldn't see through the magic that conceals her true nature. She glows like a beacon in front of him as he follows her, only peripherally paying attention to the world around him. No one else is following her, and that is what matters. Eliot can work with magic as long as he doesn't have other distractions.
He doesn't blink at the heavily woven spells around the building she leads him to. It glows almost as brightly as she does as he follows her inside, revealing a night club that Eliot doesn't doubt is full of magical creatures. Everything and everyone in here glows so bright that he loses his target in the heavy magic, can't find her when his vision suddenly clears. He has no idea where she's gone to, but he knows he has to find her. He needs that violin.
Eliot weaves his way through the room in search of the silver woman, doing his best to filter out all the other magic that threatens to blind him.
Going through the back. It had occured. But the true is they do not care. The Gargoyles will fuss and Ari will rave but it matters not. And so they slip in the front doors of their home. None the wiser of the fact someone else follows. Unaware that the magic burst that occurred at their return--as it always does--was enough to allow someone not quite so unhuman as them in behind them.
Why they don't notice they will blame later on the excitement. The way they shine brighter than they ever had on the street. The fur coat taken almost automatically by something or someone that blends into and back out of reality. The case with the violin hugged close as they take to the air. A streak of silver dust that rains down up the dancers on the pit floor.
Ira relishing in the sensation of the thrumming music moving through them and their wings. They land a moment later perfectly upon the second floor. And that is about as far as luck takes them before...
Ήρα, πού ήσουν! [Ira where have you been?!]
"Мы ходим, куда хотим." [We go where we please.]
Το έχουμε συζητήσει αυτό, αν θέλεις να βγείς έξω, πάρε τουλάχιστον έναν από εμάς μαζί σου! [We've talked about this if you want to go out you take at least one of us with you!]
"Да ладно, Сайлас. Война закончилась, опасности не было. Мы далеко не ушли. А теперь нас всё ещё развлекают?" [Oh enough, Silas. The war is over there was no danger. We did not go far. Now are we still entertained?]
Δεν θα σου λείψει η Άρι. Αμφιβάλλω αν ξέρουν καν πού βρίσκονται αυτή τη στιγμή. Η Αθέα έδειξε τον εαυτό της. [Ari will not miss you. I doubt they even know where they are right now. Athea showed herself.]
Хорошо. Тогда я уйд--- [Good. Then we shall lea---]
They notice it a fraction of a second before theirself appointed guardian. A fraction of a second that ends up being the very thing that probably saved the human's life let alone mental state. Its quick and faster than they even considers the intruder could move because humans can't. Four flesh formed gargoyles cutting through the crowd like sharks. All four headed in one direction. Half a heart beat more and they would be on him. And perhaps half of that half they give the human closer look. Something reflective along this man's edges something not---
"Успокойтесь!" [BE STILL]
It booms louder than the music. Music that dies in the wake of the ear splitting command. The precious cargo in their hands held closer for a second before it is turned over to Silas for safe keeping. They themselves alighting to the ground. The crowd dazzled by the spell they cast unknowingly moving out of their way. Sharp silver boring holes into this human that clearly wasn't supposed to be here. They saw no marking no claim by any other being. And perhaps they take further advantage of the opportunity presented.
Fingers that flit in the direction of the gargoyles that had cut off any exit. The human shaped beings taking a singular step back. Ira stepping forward. Head tilted at perhaps a slightly awkward angle as though they have never laid eyes upon something of the man's make. They circles him once, a singular sniff. Oh this one is strange isn't he? This one smells of green things and that tar that humans call asphalt. Smells like nature but not the forgiving kind. Some kind of overgrown dwarf? A mix between? No no. Something else. Something more magical than dwarves could ever be. Something...something--an internal scoff. They can't decide not with all these eyes on them.
Мы могли бы просто спросить об этом. [We could just ask it.]
A glare shot behind them and up. Silver meeting gold from the balcony.
Мы нашли его, оно наше. Возвращайся в Айви. [We found it its ours. Go back to Athea.]
Очень-очень трогательно. Ладно, мы попробуем, но обещаем поделиться, если нам надоест. Но поторопитесь. Играла наша любимая песня. [Touchie touchie. Fine we will but promise to share if we bore of it. But hurry up. Our favorite song was on.]
A much more annoyed quake of wings, before their attention returns to the not quite human. Silver meets blue with the kind of self importance human queens only wish they could achieve.
"Что ты?" [What are you?]
It never occurs to them though it should have that the not quite human might not even understand them. At all.
The sister wasn't expected, but Chin Ho Kelly is familiar with how families work, how they can be in your business out of worry or protectiveness. He wasn't bothered by it. If anything, Zach's sister is not nearly as bad as Mary-Ann McGarrett. The protectiveness was welcome. Five-0 was a family, and they kept the members of their families close. They had to, with the risks they put themselves in. Having a sister he was close to would help Zach more than if he'd been alone.
Chin smiled at the way Sasha bounced back out of the office, standing up straight from where he'd been leaning on the table. He had a feeling that the bubbly woman would be back at least once today to check on her brother. She had that air about her, reminded her of Kono in a way. It was nice to see that someone else had to deal with family like that. Chin didn't believe that he should have to be the only one to deal with an overprotective family member.
"Family is important," Chin said, gesturing towards the hall that lead to the offices. "Come on, I'll show you to your office first. You can leave your stuff in there." Making his way down the hall, he glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know how much you know about Five-0, but we're the governor's task force. Most of our cases involve international affairs. Smuggling, trafficking, Gangs, murder. We don't tend to handle the day to day crimes. HPD does that. Our cases are all high profile. We're a team of four- five now. Steve's our leader. Ex SEAL, complete lack of fear. Steve'll do anything to solve our cases and keep Hawai'i safe.
"Danny's Steve's partner. He's a Jersey cop, moved here to be close to his daughter. He tries to keep everything by the books as much as possible. He's just about the only one who can talk Steve out of doing stupid things that could cost him his life. Kono's more likely to encourage it and Steve's never listened to me.
"Kono's my cousin," there was a smile on his face. "She's our youngest member. Joined Five-0 as soon as she was out of the academy. She spends too much time around Steve, has the same lack of self-perseverance as he does. Keeping the two of them out of trouble is a full time job. Kono's good though. Her instincts are spot on for a rookie.
"Then there's me," his smile twisted a little. "I was HPD for years before we parted ways. I was accused of a crime I didn't commit. Steve dragged me back in. I run our tech most of the time, and I have more criminal informants than anyone else on the island. Steve keeps me around for that. And the staggering good looks."
He grinned at his own joke, opening an empty office door and gesturing for Zach to enter. "This'll be your office. Mine's right next door. We don't spend a whole lot of time in our offices, mostly just to do paperwork, but if you ever need to escape the group, it's a good place to go.
"We don't have an official lab so we use HPD's. Morgue too. Anything that we can do in office, it's usually with tech. We have the best tech on the island, personally programmed by me. Anything you need to know tech wise and I can probably get it done.
"We don't do interrogations in the office. That's down in the Palace basement. I'll take you down there later. Any questions so far?"
Family is important.
Chin's right. Zach gets that maybe better then perhaps he will ever share. Still mental ticks are made to the mental score board that he assumes everyone does when they meet someone knew. Just how things were done so one could access whether or not the relationship was going to work. Regardless of how long or short the relationship in question was. Because every meeting is a relationship whether the every day person wants to admit it or not. And there's a bit of practiced half grin given to Chin and
"Thanks that'd be great."
He follows. Keeps pace without invading the invisible bubble everyone has. Backpack adjusted a little on his shoulder. He listens to every single word his new team mate says. Soaks it in like a spounge while some how still looking like he isn't. Sasha calls it is "resting talk faster" face. He doesn't agree, because well he knows he's listening doesn't he? And he sure as hell hasn't ever thought someone was talking to slow. At least not that he remembers.
Even if Chin can't see him he nods along with the description given to this Hawaii specific task force. Nothing he wasn't already briefed on. Not anything the governor himself hadn't told him on that very short if not a little tense phone call. But he's not a rude person at least not on purpose, so he won't stop Chin from giving him the speech so to speak. He sounds proud of it, and that's another mental tick on the mental scoreboard. In Chin Ho Kelly's favor of course.
He makes a check list of each person Chin lists off. Steve McGarrett--right he'd read his file. Well read what wasn't redacted at any rate. Zach admires that more than he probably should. It explains why the governor and McGarrett sometimes clashed. Two different worlds. Two different sets of rules.
Danny Williams. That one--there had been much more on, or well at least until he joined H50 that is. And he wonders if Jersey Boy is going to give him lip just because they were born on opposite sides of the river. Probably. But Jersey wouldn't be Jersey and New York wouldn't be New York if they didn't.
Next Kono. Newest to the whole cop thing. He hopes what he read about her is true. If she can shoot like her file says--well he won't have anything to complain about with her in a nest over his head. Still its noted the familia tie. The Governor had failed to mention that. Zach guesses it's probably one of those if you can't figure that out on your own boy---
There's a genuine--even if he has to remember to do it--laugh. Because yea okay that's funny. Maybe more funny because he'd read up on Chin too. And he has to agree the guy hadn't deserved the hand he got. He's just glad that at least McGarrett seems to understand how the hierarchy works and that sometimes the top really is wrong. Not that their wrong often but they are wrong.
"Oh of course. There's gotta be at least one pretty one in the mix right?"
He's also kidding but there's a tiny but that hopes it was okay. That Chin won't take offense. Because sometimes his humor doesn't land right. Sometimes it gets him decked. Not that he thinks Chin will its just he really doesn't want to mess this up. A thought that maybe has his bag hitting the desk of his new office a little harder than he meant for it too. But he doesn't stop now letting it keel over easy like he meant to do that.
Filing way the rest of what his tour guide offers up. That there is no lab and morgue. They use HPD for that and Chin makes sure he knows H50's systems were the best on the island. Okay Island Boy you know your stuff. Zach likes that. He likes it a lot. A team was only as good a the brains behind it and the tech gluing it together. He solidly believes that. And maybe his heads giving another nod as he turns to lean against the edge of his new desk. Arms folding over his chest loosely. He's calmer now distracted. The need to count forgotten for the time being. Made that root stuff his sister and been adment he add to his singular cup of coffee was working?
"I mean aside from where the best place is to get breakfast in the morning and which coffee shop isn't going to ask me four times if I want coconut milk...uh...."
He's being sincere even if it might get taken else ways. And the other thing comes flying right back and hitting him smack in the face. Christ he really needed that second cup of coffee Sasha said they hadn't had time for.
"My service weapon. I was told I was supposed to pick that up from my superior when I got here? Which I'm assuming is Steve? I've got all the paperwork sign offs and training proofs. Oh and I uh...I'm not to great at the whole sharing thing so if there's something you want to know about me just ask. Worst case I say classified."
Its another joke but also not. Zach isn't so great at asking all the right questions to get to know someone but he is good at looking at patterns and making them make sense. He is good at following set parameters. He can't keep up with Chin's cousin Kono by any means but he can come out on top in a knife fight. Rangers Lead The Way Hooah. But what he is best at, what he was known for in both the Rangers and the FBI---was when something wasn't right, usually finding exactly what was faster. At least faster than a lot of previous his peers.
"So uh...when's everyone else get here? I did I get punked on arrival time?" Because it wouldn't be the first time. Rangers could be ruthless to each other.
"Merlin," Eggsy hopped down from his hiding spot, approaching the person he'd downed. He was careful. Mutants tended to react to tranquilizers differently than regular people and he was pretty sure he'd downed a mutant. It wouldn't do for the guy to wake up and manage to take Eggsy out. Merlin and Rox would never let him hear the end of it if that happened. "Mate, we've got a problem."
"Yes, lad, I can see that," Merlin's voice came through his speaker, images flashing over his glasses as the Scot ran facial recognition on the unconscious man. It had taken Eggsy ages to get used to that, the overlay of Merlin's screen on his glasses. Used to make him bloody nauseous, but he'd gotten used to it and he could manage to watch the programs run through now. He took in the other man's body as Merlin's software ran. If this guy was in almost any system in the world, Merlin would find him. Speak of the devil, "There he is," Merlin said, freezing on security footage from some place in Paris. "He's been caught on camera a handful of times, less than you." "Hey." "But I can't find any record of who he is."
"So what do I do, mate? Feels weird leavin' him here to take the fall for what I did, y'know?" Eggsy's foot tapped against the unconscious man's knee. "You want me t' tie him up an' leave him in a closet? Or am I bringin' him back with me."
Part of Eggsy wanted to tie the man up and leave him there, but the rest of him was curious. Couldn't really help that, now could he, he'd always been a curious man, and a new mystery, a person Merlin couldn't identify, that was exciting. Not that his life was boring, because it weren't, but a new mystery to solve made it a little spicier and Eggsy loved spicy.
"Best you bring him with you, lad, but be careful. I can clear the halls to the rendezvous point but you're going to have to be quick about it." Eggsy could hear Merlin typing away, probably blocking cameras so Eggsy could make his way through the halls unrevealed. He waited for the little green flash on his glasses that told him he was free to go, picking up the unconscious man and putting him over his shoulder. "Alright, Galahad, you've got three minutes."
"I'll make it in two," Eggsy boasted, taking off towards his escape route. Retracing his steps and carrying a weight made him move a little slower, but he'd been training with Rox about this, the two of them taking turns throwing the other over their shoulders on jogs. Eggsy'd managed to take almost half the time off his five kilometer run with Rox flung over his shoulder. He knew he could do it with this guy too. So long as he didn't run into any problems, he was gold.
"Watch your back, Galahad. They're patrolling the halls. Pick up the pace." Merlin lit up a new path to the rendezvous point and Eggsy took a quick left, hitching his shoulder up so he didn't drop his load. "Good lad. You're clear for the next twenty meters, then it's a right turn to get back on track."
"Right, bruv," Eggsy knew it bothered Merlin when he let his accent out while he was on a job. It was half the reason that he did it. Irking the handler was one of the small joys that Eggsy took out of this job. He reached out with his free hand, just for the fun of it, and shot energy through the hall, lighting it up like fireworks. It wasn't necessary, but Eggsy had a lot of built up energy and if he didn't let it out then he might explode. Perks of his mutation. "Y' got Lancelot t' fly the plane, right?"
"Yes. She's already got it fired up. She's just waiting for you."
"Peachy," Eggsy took the right. His exit was right ahead. The man on his shoulder started to squirm and Eggsy shot a minor bolt of energy through him, like a low voltage taser, just enough to make him hold still. "Make sure she's got the manacles ready. Got a feelin' he ain't gonna be peaceful for long."
Somewhere in the in between he knows. Knows he's been picked up, knows he's being moved. Every shift, bump and readjustment causing his shoulder to scream. Muted static though it is at the edges of this void. This space between asleep and awake. Perhaps the same space between life and death. That or he's reached a new level of delusion. Its hard to tell isn't ? Hard to remember if he's sane or--- PIETRO TREZEȘTE-TE! TREZEȘTE-TE LA NAIBA!! [PIETRO WAKE UP! WAKE UP DAMN IT!!]
Something like light from beyond his eyes. The idea of coming awake. Muscles that scream and a stomach that is being pitched like a toy boat in a storm. He's going to throw up--he can feel it co--A cutting disconnect. Not as strong as he's ever felt before but strong enough in the moment. The one where half a conscious brain forgets entirely about a stomach and wonders instead which is going to happen first: bleeding to death or a stroke if whoever it is, does that again.
Whoever that is....whoever---
Concentrează-te, frate. Haide. Trezește-te. Ia-i mințile repede! Încă putem scăpa! [Focus brother. Come on. Wake up. Take his mind quick! We can still get away!]
But he can't. He's always had a problem using his powers when there's something foreign lodged inside him. Though logic tells him no one can function proper in this sort of situation. Still no matter how much he would love to do exactly as a sister suggests he can not. Not when the more pressing issue regarding survival is getting whatever it is in him out.
Wait out...out...Sus și afară, Wanda, bine? Sus și afară. Vom reuși. [ ...up and out Wanda okay? Up and out. We'll make it.]
Up and out is the feeling if he were to describe it later. Up and out quick quick quick. Just like the time they waited for two days for Tony Stark to kill them. Gaining one grain of concrete at a time before they were eventually found and dug out by larger, stronger hands. And the bullet that shouldn't be moving-- is doing just that. One torn piece of muscle and sinew at a time. Up and out. Close the void behind. Up and out.
But he's lost too much blood, can't focus. Can't stay awake. And so as gently as the bits of red came they disappear into the ether. Pietro lost entirely to the world again as one smashed and bloodied bit of lead falls away to the floor with the tiniest of clinks. And maybe it will be funny later maybe it won't. But the truth is even for all that he is a miracle bits and pieces are still human. Bits and pieces are still susceptible to things as archaic as a common 22 caliber round. And like most living creatures in the cosmos, if it bleeds, it can be killed.
Though if he were awake right now? Pietro Maximoff would adamantly tell you otherwise. He would tell you the shooters cheated. But he would also know that had the positions been different? He wouldn't have missed the head shot.
Witching Hour
starter for Eliot / @ifyoucatchacriminal
Fine heels on concrete as she folds herself out of the in between and into the realm of humans. Dew soaked spider web laced wings twice her height in breath become as ether, replaced by a dark thick faux fur coat. Bright quick silver eyes that dull to a quiet grey. Iridescent skin that turns every light that touches it to shattered spectrums, growing opaque. Until near translucence turns pale and then the slightest more cream. Hair a burning white dimming to believable shade of blonde. Teeth only just a little sharper than humans dulled to nubs. Cut features as if she were made of marble softened in all the right places. To make her human, and yet still mysterious. As though she's the one that got away come to life.
Click Click Click.
Ira has places to be. Places that do not involve Sonus, Ari, or the gargoyles. The ones that it is the most difficult to give the slip. Ari can be block out for a bit. Longer if Ari doesn't notice, and last time they checked upon themselves well---they will not be noticing. Yet still feet pick up there pace just a little. And maybe because of excitement. Maybe because what brings a fae beyond the walls of home tonight, could just be the most important thing. Something lost for years over years since its make. Something precious. Something only one being was ever meant to be own because it had been made for and because of them. And them alone.
A corner turned the concept of---another glance between heart beats before the street just left goes out of sight. Feet keeping their pace and a mind races to match it. What was---no. No this city is old it could have been anything. If it was the fae's appointed guardian of guardians he would have stopped by this errand now. Though it could be his slightly more mischievous underling, Naz. A glance back over her shoulder, but there is nothing in the great black sea of human traffic behind her. Dull grey eyes turning back ahead and cutting across the street. Catching the bus and off again three stops away.
A little cloud of breath hallowing her head as she looks up at her destination. This was the last place on the entire earth she wanted to meet, but the seller of what she is after insisted. Something about being convinced any time he steps of consecrated earth he risks being smite by the sky god. Though a fae does find it ever so amusing the usual arms dealer never says which god. And with that particularly cheery thought in mind one more breath is taken before the heavy door of the small cathedral is pulled open. The click click click of fine heels disappearing in the presence of softer carpeted flooring. Ah, Miss Markov it is so good to see you again.
"V'e say only Ira so many time. You never do."
Propriety, Miss. Now shall I assume you wish to see your purchase immediately?
"Da, please. I have brought your payment."
And there is an exchange had. A mutual respect. For while it would occur with no one else, money changes hands along the path. The merchadise seen only moments after of course. And the dullness of grey bleeds away for a moments. Bright orbs that could in that moment rival the brightest of moons. But it last less than a heart beat before dull grey is all there is to witness.
"V'e accept, Francis. You have outdone sel'v. V'e are pleased."
And they are. They because Ira is not a solitary being. And perhaps it is that thought that suddenly has a mind triple checking the locks. Good. No spy holes, no cracks. This will be shared when it is appropriate and not a moment before. Meaning Ari would know the moment a sister set foot back within the bounds of Sonus. Because it is better to ask forgiveness than permission.
But for now the glittering treasure she came for--the thing that human legends said could produce music only gods could write-- tucked into the folds of a dark faux fur coat. Skin nearly vibrating before fine heels find their click click click again. Excitement coursing through every vein. Its home. Its where it belongs. Confidence no one was ever going to take it again. Not ever.
But oh how the confident have fallen, do fall and will fall in the future. Because confidence has killed more armies and wiped out more civilization that any plague. Well except maybe the black one, but that had been a piece of hell come to earth. If one believed in such things that is.
@theyxlived for Zach and Chin.
There were rumors going around that the Governor was going to assign someone new to the Five-0 team. Chin wasn't opposed to someone new, necessarily, but it was difficult to find someone who would work for their team, and everyone always had a hard time adjusting to new people. They were a close knit team, an ohana, and none of them handled change very well. That much had been made clear during Lou's brief bout with the team. Whoever the new person was, Chin was sure that the Governor had multiple reasons for assigning them. He just hoped they didn't upset the balance of things too much.
He would be the first to admit that Five-0 needed some kind of oversight. Immunity and means wasn't a sustainable method for policing the islands, even if they were the ones taking down the heavy hitting criminals. They needed someone to tell them when they were going too far. Chin tried to be that voice of reason, but too often he agreed with Steve in principle and therefore didn't say a word sideways when Steve got out of control. He wasn't a perfect man, and he would be the first to admit that. As much as he believed they needed the oversight, he wasn't going to be the one to provide it. Not when Steve always seemed to make sense to him in the end.
Danny liked to think that he was the voice of reason for the team, but Danny had an Irish temper and an Italian right hook. More often than not, Danny would get just as involved as Steve did in taking things a step too far. The man had his sense of right and wrong and he was very committed to making sure the world worked that way. Chin couldn't fault him for it, especially when he knew everything that Danny had been through, but it meant that the other man, no matter what he said, let Steve get away with more than he should.
Kono was never going to be a voice of reason. Chin loved his cousin, but he knew her. The girl was pupule, as much as he hated to admit it, and she was all too eager to jump on Steve's ideas and run with them. It served them well in the field, but it also meant that she wouldn't say no when they needed her to. That meant that she couldn't be the one standing there and telling Steve his ideas were going too far.
Maybe their new person would be able to talk some sense into all of them. They all needed it, someone who knew when to tell them to stop, to take a step back. They needed someone who wasn't born and bred Five-0, who hadn't been through the mire with them. Sure, eventually that wouldn't be the case, but Chin would be the first to admit that sometimes they needed that outside influence. Maybe the new guy would be that.
Chin was doing updates on the table before everyone else got in to the office. He had spent the night coding, rewriting one of their search engines so that it ran faster, searched in broader terms. He was in charge of making sure they had the best tech, and between him and Toast they always made sure that their stuff was cutting edge. Chin liked to come into the office early, before anyone else was there, so he could get it done. As much as he loved his ohana, he worked better in the silence.
There was a noise from the door that made Chin look up. The man standing there wasn't someone he recognized. He signed off the table before rounding it, holding out his hand.
"You must be the new recruit. I'm Chin Ho Kelly. No one else is here yet, but I can show you around."
It's like the first day of kindergarten, his mother hovering like a helicopter. Okay no right now isn't like that at all but it feels like it in pieces and parts. His little sister gracious enough to be his wheels until his got here from the main land. How in the hell the shipping company had mistaken a crate full of Channel Jackets for his literal child--
"It isn't your child, Z. It's a motorbike. One that will be here tomorrow afternoon. You only have to deal with your wee fair sister dropping you off at school just once."
Hazel side eyes her with only marginal bombasticy before rolling back hard and sharp. Settling out the window a moment. How she does that Zach will never know. That knack for just seeing to know what some people are thinking. As kids he would have sworn she was psychic but now? Well now he's old enough to know that stuff doesn't exist. Only science and computer glitches.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Squeeze. Squeeze, go his fingers and hands against his thighs
"Hey...it's gonna be fine. Keep them in your pockets, just like you did at bad ass school and bigger bad ass school. And when you cant..."
He can see her steal a look. Something expecting. Something if you don't start resighting it right this minute!
"...you use your toes."
Perfectly synced. The bemused look she's given from the passenger seat does the opposite of what he wants. Because she has the audacity to giggle at his expense.
"It's Ranger School and FBI Training by the way not---"
Yea, yea that's what I said.
The car goes quiet again. Stop and start. Stop and start. Huh. Hawaii maybe isn't so very different from NYC. The traffic anyway. Still for all this place is nothing at all like New York, with its sunny blue skies and water front wrap around beach--Zach doesn't all together hate it. At least not like he thought he would. Because this job was a fucking honor. A pin in his cap that if he can pull off what the Govenor wants will stay shiny for at least long enough to get him where he really wants to be. CIA...NSA...any of the acroynoms that had shadows no one looked at straight or on a good day noticed at all.
Hawaii was the break he'd been busting his ass for since he'd been forced to leave FBI field work for personal reason. Partner death they called it. Makes him scoff quietly to himself. Still he owed his old boss. Zach had been the first person he'd called when the Governor had gotten in touch. Wanting someone fresh. Someone by the book to help bring his '5-0Task Force' more inside the guidelines.
What's wrong your breakfast coming back to haunt you? You should see your face, Z. Resting Murder Face does not make friends.
Out of the car, up the stairs. Through the door, and right up to the security desk. Names and IDs handed over. A set aside badge picked up from the safe for him, and a visitor one for his sibling. Because of course she had to come. Couldn't have him forgetting to put lunch she'd "slaved" to prepare for him this morning into the office fridge. The fridge she seemed almost eerilly sure his new office even had. He of course had told her not too but one never told a chef when and when not to cook.
Into the elevator and up they go. Badges slipped over their necks in almost the exact same manner. They were a solid three years apart but both had taken a lot more than just advice from their father. Their mother always saying all she had a hand in were their eyes and sasha's hair.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Squeeze Squeeze, go fingers and hands at his sides.
Ping
Confidence is the only thing that seems them passed this point. Zach confidence that is. As they walk shoulder ot shoulder down the hall, cutting right when the hall let out into a large open room.
You must be the new recruit. I'm Chin Ho Kelly. No one else is here yet, but I can show you around.
"Yea, hi. Im Zach Petrov...uh--"
Sasha bounces (literaly) before he has the chance to stumble through introductions she knows would just eat his soul out of his chest. And she's popping up to plant a kiss on his cheek.
Okay well you're here. I'll pick you after. Call me if you're gonna be late. and most of all don't be a dickbrick.
He salutes her back as mockingly as he possibly can. Sure it might be a bit disrespectful all things considered but sometimes his little sister took her job of getting under his skin a little too far. Regardless of company. As if she just assumed everyone to take her the way she is. Though if he thought about? It would be strange to work out that almost everyone always did just that.
But he's not thinking about it and in the wake of her disappearing back down the hall, all blonde hair, denim and linen in the proverbial wind--Zach focuses once again on the man in front of him.
"Sorry she....my sis--yknowwhatnevermind. Sorry I'm Zach, its good to meet you. And yea uh a tour would be great."
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Squeeze Squeeze, go his fingers and hands inside worn but pressed fatigue pockets.
.