he's a tinfoil boy.

              EVEN IF HE’D BACKED down, marginally so, the other seemed adamant on not giving that same show of peace. peace was relative, he knew though, since he’d been used for war. so he waits, taking a deep breath as he looks over the situation again ( model of the gun, position he was holding it, body language conveyed ). breathe.

              ❝  I KNOW.  ❞  HESITANT FINGER unwraps from the trigger. he’ll lose the gunfight if it comes to it but he doesn’t care.  ❝  like i said, just passing through.  ❞  the other question stumps him – he isn’t t e c h n i c a l l y a cop anymore, which would warrant a no. but he still moves like a cop, still acts like a cop. & he has a feeling answering yes wouldn’t be a good idea.

              GUESS HE’S GOT TO take that chance.  ❝  i am – not from around here.  ❞  how does he say he really never was?  ❝  nobody with me either. i swear, i’m all alone. you really don’t need to have that pointed at me, a l r i g h t?  ❞

     bob lee can’t help his suspicion. thus far, anyone with a GUN has been aiming it at him. but this man — this cop — seems to be the first person who doesn’t want bob lee dead or behind bars. acknowledging that, he drops his arms to his side, though finger is still ready at the trigger and the tension hasn’t left his shoulders. he’s confident that one way or another he’s the faster draw and even if he’s wrong, he’s proven time and again that ONE bullet isn’t going to kill him.

     “pass through faster next time.” as if it’s bob lee’s place to say anything at all. he’s only trying to slip through the area under the radar himself. getting caught at this point would be a travesty. he’s put a lot of work into being a GHOST. gaze quickly spans the area around them for traps. for people. for anything that could slow him down or ruin his life. frown in place, he finally looks back at the man before him.

               HE JUST HAD TO get a couple states over, get into a place where no one knew his face, to just… lie low for a couple weeks ( or months or y e a r s at this point, casey wasn’t sure if garret would ever let him go ). he moved through the woods, thin body armor underneath what he could find of workable camo – & a pistol tucked into his belt – hoping to draw as little attention to himself as possible. he had the option to be free, he just had to make it there. 

               MOVEMENT CATCHES HIS EYE, a soft rustling of branches causing his fight or flight reactions to kick in – gun drawn in the next half second as a figure poked through the tree-line. the other’s gun drawn even quicker than his. 

               ❝  WAIT -- WAIT.  ❞  CASEY’S GUN lowered slightly, though he still held it tightly, finger wrapped around the trigger.  ❝  i’m just passing through. if this is private property, i’ll be off as soon as p o s s i b l e.  ❞  hesitantly, the ex-detective lowered it even more, breathing wavering. 

@corpshearted​ / CASEY. 

     bob lee takes cautious steps, hand on his gun as an instinct. he’s been through a lot already. framed for murder, arrested, faked his own death. he can’t be too careful these days. the whole world seems to know who is thanks to the media. but when he hears someone else not too far away, he draws his gun, both hands steadying it, finger on the trigger and ready to shoot in an instant. he might have if the other man hadn’t started to lower his gun.

     hesitantly, bob lee eyes the man, gun where remaining aimed at center mass. this isn’t just his life he’s fighting for. it’s the lives of his family and he’ll be DAMNED if he lets anyone get to julie or to mary. even this kid is old enough to be a cop. to be working with johnson.

     of course they will. they always do. he’s been her bodyguard long enough to know that the two of them can get through anything together. so he smiles, lets himself relax a bit. “you’re right. i shouldn’t worry so much. we’ll get through this.”

     kara’s right. he knows that. he needs to be more careful. although he doesn’t see his daughter nearly as often as he’d like, he is a father. he has responsibilities. he needs to learn the truth about his father. all of that boils down to one thing: HE MUST SURVIVE. but bob lee was never meant to live an easy or safe life. first the marines, then shield? yeah, he has a death wish, but it’s not going out like this.

     “you’re one t’ talk.” there’s a slightly indignant tone to his voice, but most of it is just there to cover the pain he’s feeling. unsurprising, given the ass beating he took. “what the hell was that stunt you pulled back there? could have gotten us BOTH killed.” 

     “oh, you happened to?” he teases, grin widening as he reaches for her hips and pulls her towards him, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. there’s no way she would have just happened to pick it up; she did so intentionally. it’s a nice feeling, having her thinking about him even when he’s not there. things have been rough since isaac johnson stepped into their lives, but moments are these balance out the SHIT and make life together a little better.

     “i don’t think you should go.” as if he has any say. he’s heard this speech from others before: death threats can’t be allowed to halt progress. she can’t just not appear in public because some wacko wants to change the world behind the barrel of a gun. it isn’t his job to tell her this is unsafe, only to protect her from the danger lurking underneath. “but i know better than to think you’ll listen to me, so all you need to know is that i’ve got your six.” and he’d take a hundred bullets before he let even one near her. “until we have to leave, just do your best to relax. i’m sure everything’s gonna be fine.”

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋   :      dog   . 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑   :      blue       /      green    . 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇   :      july   . 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆   :      tinfoil boy  —  jamie t    . 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑   :      8113    . 𝐃𝐀𝐘   𝐎𝐑   𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓   :      day    . 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓   :      oak tree    . 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓   :      orange    . 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋   :      forest  /  gunpowder    . 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄   :      granite    . 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍   :      summer    . 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄   :      texas    . 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃   :      chinese takeout    . 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋   𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍   :     capricorn    . 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓   :     fire    . 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊   :     beer    .

SHE   IS   THE   CHAOS   SHE   MAKES   HERSELF   .           the   widow   is   deadly   ,   conjured   from   flames   ,    she   burns   as   wickedly   as   the   devil   himself   .        clever   as   the   devil   but   twice   as   pretty   !           she   moves   fluently   ,   lithe   limbs   carrying   her   with   haste   through   the   compromised   building       ;      there’s   something   effortless   about   the   way   she   moves   .   fluidity   ,   like   the   flow   of   a   rushing   river   .          &          she   takes   down   assailants   with   a    maintained   grace   ,   a   trail   of   fallen   statures   left   in   the   widow’s   wake   .

fire    erupted   in    lungs   ,   expeditious   attempts   to   carry   herself   through   designated   path   with   haste   .   a   roll   of   her   eyes    !         ❝          my   pretty   ass   is   going   as   fast   as   it   can   .        ❞            she   calls   into   communicator   wherein   a   faint   trace   of   a   grin   dresses   her   features   .   the   ring   of   a   shot        /       the   fall   of    a    body   .   a   momentary   glance   backward   ,   simper   exceptionally   evident   .          ❝          ha    !   carry   you   ?   in   your   wildest   dreams   .         ❞ 

     “damn, that’s cold. you know i’d never make it that far with this hip.” although truer words have never been spoken, there isn’t a fraction of doubt in his mind that she knows he’s only teasing her. nothing out of the ordinary. it may not be the most responsible thing to speak over the comms like this, but they aren’t hurting anybody. he’d shut up if he needed to focus on a shot. he’d turn off the comms if he needed to really focus, but shield already knew that. his first mission with them, when isaac recruited him, he’d done that very thing. told his commanders to shut the fuck up and when he didn’t —— comm off, shot taken.

     he remains still, focus unwavering. this is his world. just like his days in the corps, laying in what should be the world’s least comfortable positions as he stares into the scope of his gun, left hand keeping the rifle steadied to his shoulder. missions like this are the most like his time with the marines. missions like this are the ones that scare him the most. there’s too much that can go wrong and things in shield seem tense lately. his gut tells him this ain’t good and his gut’s got a good reputation for being right.

    “you’re almost out of there,” he assures. “better hurry that pretty ass up, though. exfil’s two minutes away.” and he isn’t leaving his spot until natasha gets out safely. if she doesn’t make it to that helo, neither does he. they can always find another way home, but no one gets left behind. no one. they’re a team. “it’d be a bitch of a hike back to dc if we miss that plane.” presses the trigger, takes out an enemy combatant in the building. “about halfway through, you might have to start carryin’ me,” he teases with a small chuckle.