Hel stands with her eyes closed in the middle of the bustling crowd. The words of the people around her, once foreign and unfamiliar, begin to make sense the more she listens. Languages have always come easy to her, along with glamour — abilities that help her blend in more easily wherever her travels take her, as one with a divine charge to protect the Tesseract.
But the Tesseract is not here. Something else is, however, and after a moment, she slowly makes her way through the crowd, inching closer to the stage. Up there, a human is showing off some sort of flying vessel of his creation. She frowns, wondering if it's dwarven-made, and how in the Realms could that have happened without the Tesseract. Or at least she wonders up until an explosion sends the car falling back to the stage. Very anticlimactic.
"Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology," she repeats under her breath after the inventor, her eyes trailing up to the letters on the stage. Stark Industries. Well, that must be the man's—
A boy knocks her a step back as he hurries past. He apologizes, but he's so harmless and scrawny that she can't believe he'd done it with any malice, and so she waves him off. She turns back to the stage to see what else might be next and why her instincts had led her here, only to lock gazes with a blue-eyed man in some sort of uniform.
Suddenly she can't breathe. She knows someone with those eyes, but he couldn't possibly be here. She'd left him for dead that night she'd fled with the Tesseract.
A girl and a black dog materialize in the middle of the street, heralded only by sparks of light. The dog is disoriented, the girl more so; it's been a long time since she's traveled by portal, and it's not to a place she's ever been to before, so she's not sure if her attempt has even worked. That, and she'd already failed several times, each landing the pair of them in a different part of the Ironwoods, though progressively further away from her initial location.
There's a screech and the furious honking of a car. Her eyes open and she stumbles back, though she lunges forward a moment later to put her arms around the dog, catching him before he launches himself at the car. The driver is swearing, yelling at them, and she's considering turning him into a squirrel or something just as small if not for the dog's incessant barking. Above anything else, she'd hate to be noticed. Even if she's already glamoured herself to hide the ugly parts of her, it feels like the people around her are staring at her.
There are so many people.
"Sorry, so sorry!" Hel mumbles, backing into the sidewalk, where there are more people. Inside the buildings, walking along the streets. Damn it, maybe they should go back. But how? They're clearly out of the woods now, and she's not even sure she knows the way back. Not when the shop sign in front of her is exactly as she remembers from that picture: The Meatball.
She pulls out her phone to double check. Yeah, they're in the right place. Garmr starts to whine, also caught off-guard by their unfamiliar surroundings, and she sits down on the pavement next to him. Still feeling that people are staring, she pulls up her hood in a futile effort to hide her face, then texts Bucky:
It wasn't his fault that he had a gun pointed to his face, really. The house did look like it had been abandoned long before the outbreak, with a garden that had spiraled so out of control it had prevented the dwelling behind it from being noticed.
Until now, anyway.
He was the first person they'd seen in a good while. And she would've left him to his fate if not for the pleading of the boy she'd taken in. "He's hurt, Mom," the boy had whispered, peering through the cracks in the planks of wood they'd used to barricade the windows. "We have to help him."
They didn't have to, and since the boy had latched on to her and decided to call her Mother, she could've enforced that authority and refused. But the boy's eyes bored through her, reminding her that she was living a borrowed life, and making her realize that the little one had more heart left in him than she did, for he was willing to risk his own life to help others. Damn it.
She knew her gun was no match for the newcomer, but she held it to his face with both hands when she opened the door and stepped out into the porch. She recognized him, of course. Who didn't? He'd been all over the news in the months leading up to the outbreak, running around with the new Captain America.
"You're not infected?" She had to ask. Because that was where the outbreak had started: among the super soldiers.
[ Ashes blossom on the battlefield, and for a second, her heart stops. It's Wakanda all over again... until she realizes it's not her but her opponent that's crumbling into ash.
She's shaking from exhaustion. Her left forearm is still strapped to her broken shield, if only because she'd used the belts as a torniquet to stop the bleeding. She limps forward anyway, straining to see through the smoke and the damage and the bodies. She'll run through her list, make sure everyone on the team's accounted for. But she has to find him first. ]
Bucky! Anyone seen Bucky? [ He'd arrived with Sam, she was sure of it, but she'd lost track of him during the fight—
Her knees give way, but arms catch her before she crumples. She turns her head and lets out a sound that's half a laugh, half a sigh of relief as he lowers them both to the ground. He'd made it back, and he'd made it out of the fight that shortly followed. He looks like shit, but she probably looks worse. She can feel her injuries now that the adrenaline's wearing off, and she knows they're bad, even with the serum speeding up her healing. ]
Buck, listen. [ She drops Mjolnir to cup his cheek with a grimy, gloved hand. ] There's somethin' I gotta tell you...
[ Three times she'd thought she lost him. Three times he's come back, somehow. Yeah, she'd been an idiot. But this time, he will know he is loved. She doesn't care that he doesn't feel the same way — about himself, or for her. She's loved him since that day in high school, when they'd snuck out to Coney Island, and he'd convinced her to get on that damn rollercoaster with him then held her hair while she threw up into a garbage can afterward. It doesn't feel like she ever got off it. ]
"I'll see you in a little bit." is all the response he gives her, taking note of the pin she drops for him and doesn't take long before he's slipping in his ear piece that connects to his phone so he can get the directions to where he's headed on his motorcycle. He's armed, not just with the vibranium arm but with a few knives on his person and a gun, just in case - he didn't ask what she needed back up on, so he decides he should be prepared for anything - in case subduing whoever went and handcuffed her wasn't the answer.
Knowing her, it's someone with connections to the Red Room - by now most of the Widows ( if not all ) have found themselves free from subjugation but there's always someone out there who either slipped through the cracks or are looking to find the connections to bring things back - or someone who's not a fan of the Avengers and their ilk. He knows while she can handle herself, the rest of the Avengers - Steve included - would have dropped what they were doing to be back up if they knew, but she's stuck with him and he doesn't do things the exact same way as the rest of 'em do, even if he's not the kind of guy who kills these days.
He's smart, doesn't drive his motorcycle all the way to the location and cuts the engine just a street away so he can keep a little attention away from him showing up when he does. He's employing stealth as he makes the approach, aware of anyone who might be lingering nearby and not accidentally running into anything as he begins into the building, waiting for the sounds of anything that will tell him where Natasha might be.
His gun is within close reach - he'll prefer to punch his way out if it's needed, the gun would be warning shots and his knives would be to wound, not kill - but no one is jumping out at him yet and he knows better than to call out her name, even if it only takes him another minute before he's exchanging blows with one of the guys on the payroll of whoever it is that Natasha is dealing with and from the sounds of other footfalls, it seems to bring attention to him and hopefully away from her so she can find herself free of those handcuffs sooner, as opposed to later.
They find Zola in the last train car. Unarmed, but waiting for them. That's the unsettling part. Steph doesn't like it one bit. In fact, she's had a bad feeling about this mission even before they'd landed on the train, and it had nothing to do with the drop. (Damn heights. At least she didn't throw up this time.)
"Ah. Miss Rogers."
She levels her sidearm at Zola's face. Bucky comes up from behind her, shield at the ready, but while the scientist greets him with an amused, "Captain," the man's gaze flicks back to Steph right after. She sees Bucky tense, like he's seconds away from launching himself at Zola and beating the shit out of him. She reaches with her free hand to grab his elbow before he can do just that.
"Hands in the air, Doctor," Steph orders, shifting to a two-handed grip on her gun. If their circumstances had been reversed -- if Bucky had been the one taken and experimented on -- she would've beat the living daylights out of the scientist. Alas, they need Zola alive. That was what this whole op was for, not retribution for what had been done to her.
Zola complies. But as he raises his arms, he says... something. Steph doesn't know enough German to understand the words, but it doesn't matter. She suddenly goes rigid. Her eyes turn glassy, her expression blank.
"Ready to comply," she then says in shockingly perfect German, her voice low and unfeeling.
i was feeling some hurt/comfort today sooooo their version of shield au lol
[ It had been a closed casket funeral. There had been no point otherwise, given that they didn't have a body to bury. Steph had given her eulogy with a detached calm, like she was watching the scene unfold from another plane of existence, then she'd trailed after Bucky, who'd angrily limped out of the church.
Steve was laid to rest next to their parents. Or at least what they had of him anyway: a folded up flag, a framed sketch Steph had labored over the past couple of nights. She remains staring at the headstone as people take their leave, nodding absently at those stopping by to offer their condolences; Howard Stark, Becca, Stevie's friends from the Army.
Once they're alone, she takes Bucky's arm and drapes it over her shoulders, then slips her arm around his waist, to help him bear his weight. ]
Come on, let's get you back. It's about to rain, and I gotta make sure you didn't overexert yourself anyway.
[ She'd been by his side from the moment they'd transferred him into the hospital where she worked, and she'd cared for him since, spending her time off in his apartment and doing whatever he'd needed to recover. It helped, having something to do. Or else she'd drown from the grief of losing her brother — the only family she'd had left. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
at the expo, 1943
But the Tesseract is not here. Something else is, however, and after a moment, she slowly makes her way through the crowd, inching closer to the stage. Up there, a human is showing off some sort of flying vessel of his creation. She frowns, wondering if it's dwarven-made, and how in the Realms could that have happened without the Tesseract. Or at least she wonders up until an explosion sends the car falling back to the stage. Very anticlimactic.
"Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology," she repeats under her breath after the inventor, her eyes trailing up to the letters on the stage. Stark Industries. Well, that must be the man's—
A boy knocks her a step back as he hurries past. He apologizes, but he's so harmless and scrawny that she can't believe he'd done it with any malice, and so she waves him off. She turns back to the stage to see what else might be next and why her instincts had led her here, only to lock gazes with a blue-eyed man in some sort of uniform.
Suddenly she can't breathe. She knows someone with those eyes, but he couldn't possibly be here. She'd left him for dead that night she'd fled with the Tesseract.
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There's a screech and the furious honking of a car. Her eyes open and she stumbles back, though she lunges forward a moment later to put her arms around the dog, catching him before he launches himself at the car. The driver is swearing, yelling at them, and she's considering turning him into a squirrel or something just as small if not for the dog's incessant barking. Above anything else, she'd hate to be noticed. Even if she's already glamoured herself to hide the ugly parts of her, it feels like the people around her are staring at her.
There are so many people.
"Sorry, so sorry!" Hel mumbles, backing into the sidewalk, where there are more people. Inside the buildings, walking along the streets. Damn it, maybe they should go back. But how? They're clearly out of the woods now, and she's not even sure she knows the way back. Not when the shop sign in front of her is exactly as she remembers from that picture: The Meatball.
She pulls out her phone to double check. Yeah, they're in the right place. Garmr starts to whine, also caught off-guard by their unfamiliar surroundings, and she sits down on the pavement next to him. Still feeling that people are staring, she pulls up her hood in a futile effort to hide her face, then texts Bucky:
Don't be mad. I think we're a day early.
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did somebody order a zombie apocalypse with a slice of hurt/comfort and only one bed?
Until now, anyway.
He was the first person they'd seen in a good while. And she would've left him to his fate if not for the pleading of the boy she'd taken in. "He's hurt, Mom," the boy had whispered, peering through the cracks in the planks of wood they'd used to barricade the windows. "We have to help him."
They didn't have to, and since the boy had latched on to her and decided to call her Mother, she could've enforced that authority and refused. But the boy's eyes bored through her, reminding her that she was living a borrowed life, and making her realize that the little one had more heart left in him than she did, for he was willing to risk his own life to help others. Damn it.
She knew her gun was no match for the newcomer, but she held it to his face with both hands when she opened the door and stepped out into the porch. She recognized him, of course. Who didn't? He'd been all over the news in the months leading up to the outbreak, running around with the new Captain America.
"You're not infected?" She had to ask. Because that was where the outbreak had started: among the super soldiers.
HAHAHA NOT ME COMING TO THIS LIKE FIVE??? MONTHS LATER
i couldn't find an appropriate meme toplevel sooooo
She's shaking from exhaustion. Her left forearm is still strapped to her broken shield, if only because she'd used the belts as a torniquet to stop the bleeding. She limps forward anyway, straining to see through the smoke and the damage and the bodies. She'll run through her list, make sure everyone on the team's accounted for. But she has to find him first. ]
Bucky! Anyone seen Bucky? [ He'd arrived with Sam, she was sure of it, but she'd lost track of him during the fight—
Her knees give way, but arms catch her before she crumples. She turns her head and lets out a sound that's half a laugh, half a sigh of relief as he lowers them both to the ground. He'd made it back, and he'd made it out of the fight that shortly followed. He looks like shit, but she probably looks worse. She can feel her injuries now that the adrenaline's wearing off, and she knows they're bad, even with the serum speeding up her healing. ]
Buck, listen. [ She drops Mjolnir to cup his cheek with a grimy, gloved hand. ] There's somethin' I gotta tell you...
[ Three times she'd thought she lost him. Three times he's come back, somehow. Yeah, she'd been an idiot. But this time, he will know he is loved. She doesn't care that he doesn't feel the same way — about himself, or for her. She's loved him since that day in high school, when they'd snuck out to Coney Island, and he'd convinced her to get on that damn rollercoaster with him then held her hair while she threw up into a garbage can afterward. It doesn't feel like she ever got off it. ]
we make our own space to do things, duh!
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gen texting continuation — 11/17/2024 — @toomuchred.
"I'll see you in a little bit." is all the response he gives her, taking note of the pin she drops for him and doesn't take long before he's slipping in his ear piece that connects to his phone so he can get the directions to where he's headed on his motorcycle. He's armed, not just with the vibranium arm but with a few knives on his person and a gun, just in case - he didn't ask what she needed back up on, so he decides he should be prepared for anything - in case subduing whoever went and handcuffed her wasn't the answer.
Knowing her, it's someone with connections to the Red Room - by now most of the Widows ( if not all ) have found themselves free from subjugation but there's always someone out there who either slipped through the cracks or are looking to find the connections to bring things back - or someone who's not a fan of the Avengers and their ilk. He knows while she can handle herself, the rest of the Avengers - Steve included - would have dropped what they were doing to be back up if they knew, but she's stuck with him and he doesn't do things the exact same way as the rest of 'em do, even if he's not the kind of guy who kills these days.
He's smart, doesn't drive his motorcycle all the way to the location and cuts the engine just a street away so he can keep a little attention away from him showing up when he does. He's employing stealth as he makes the approach, aware of anyone who might be lingering nearby and not accidentally running into anything as he begins into the building, waiting for the sounds of anything that will tell him where Natasha might be.
His gun is within close reach - he'll prefer to punch his way out if it's needed, the gun would be warning shots and his knives would be to wound, not kill - but no one is jumping out at him yet and he knows better than to call out her name, even if it only takes him another minute before he's exchanging blows with one of the guys on the payroll of whoever it is that Natasha is dealing with and from the sounds of other footfalls, it seems to bring attention to him and hopefully away from her so she can find herself free of those handcuffs sooner, as opposed to later.
i had this random idea soooo
"Ah. Miss Rogers."
She levels her sidearm at Zola's face. Bucky comes up from behind her, shield at the ready, but while the scientist greets him with an amused, "Captain," the man's gaze flicks back to Steph right after. She sees Bucky tense, like he's seconds away from launching himself at Zola and beating the shit out of him. She reaches with her free hand to grab his elbow before he can do just that.
"Hands in the air, Doctor," Steph orders, shifting to a two-handed grip on her gun. If their circumstances had been reversed -- if Bucky had been the one taken and experimented on -- she would've beat the living daylights out of the scientist. Alas, they need Zola alive. That was what this whole op was for, not retribution for what had been done to her.
Zola complies. But as he raises his arms, he says... something. Steph doesn't know enough German to understand the words, but it doesn't matter. She suddenly goes rigid. Her eyes turn glassy, her expression blank.
"Ready to comply," she then says in shockingly perfect German, her voice low and unfeeling.
i was feeling some hurt/comfort today sooooo their version of shield au lol
Steve was laid to rest next to their parents. Or at least what they had of him anyway: a folded up flag, a framed sketch Steph had labored over the past couple of nights. She remains staring at the headstone as people take their leave, nodding absently at those stopping by to offer their condolences; Howard Stark, Becca, Stevie's friends from the Army.
Once they're alone, she takes Bucky's arm and drapes it over her shoulders, then slips her arm around his waist, to help him bear his weight. ]
Come on, let's get you back. It's about to rain, and I gotta make sure you didn't overexert yourself anyway.
[ She'd been by his side from the moment they'd transferred him into the hospital where she worked, and she'd cared for him since, spending her time off in his apartment and doing whatever he'd needed to recover. It helped, having something to do. Or else she'd drown from the grief of losing her brother — the only family she'd had left. ]
end part of tbolts, you know what this is
Congressman Gary called, said he couldn't reach you. I told him you were handling things.
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You ARE handling things, right?
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[ Delivery notification for a grocery order, since their account is in his name and card. ]
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What do you want for dinner?
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[ Pic of the progress on her latest art piece. ]
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[ Link to a random TikTok about the latest season of Grey's Anatomy. ]
This show is still on?
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I'm on my way.
Call me ASAP.
Love you.
[ Whatever just went down in New York, it wasn't good. And then that press conference. Fucking de Fontaine. ]
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