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@malcomhawks-askblog
Made this last night bc I kept on getting Drag Path edits on my fyp & they kept on making me sad
(Thank @tokillamockingbird427 bc they're kinda one of the few reasons I post any of my videos on here lol)
@perry-the-platypus-f1cs
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So I’m playing Cod ghosts again, this time on veteran because apparently I love driving myself insane and currently I’m at the jungle mission, but while I was playing I noticed something that I missed on my first play-through .
Keegan’s reaction to Rorke talking shit about Ajax :(
Look how sad he is! Look at how he lifts his head up like he’s not trying to cry or he’s trying his best not to kill Rorke at the moment.
He literally has to step away from Rorke!
Like imagine what’s going on through his head-everyones heads (maybe minus Logan and Hesh, just because they didn’t know Rorke from before)
Their former captain- friend, is the cause of another Ghosts death, one that Keegan was close with, known since basic. And Rorke is mocking him, basically spitting on his grave. The absolute misery and grief in this scene has got me both furious and sad.
I just ugh! Let me give my boys a hug! They need it, they all need it! And let me punch Rorke!
Saint stood quietly in the corner of the casino, perfectly moulded into the backdrop despite his scarred features. His hands were tucked into his pockets, fingers curled carefully against his palms.
He was watching Hound and Casino interact. There was something uncanny in his yellow-grey gaze and the way he had his head slightly tilted, like an animal carefully observing its prey.
@ask-hound
@malcomhawks-askblog
Malcolm's gaze flickers over to saint for a brief second before returning to hound.
"as I was saying, I have Intel. you have resources. I'm willing to...create a partnership with you. in return for immunity. my presence here is proof of my sincerity, otherwise I would have one of my secretaries here."
Malcolm says leaning back his body tense it was obvious no matter how much bravado that he put on, he was nervous if not downright terrified.
Malcom leans back into the plush couch of the private room of the casino. It had been awhile since he had gotten any news about anyone, watching from the sidelines was entertaining, but getting involved is..exhilitarting.
"just wait and see...." malcom murmurs to himself adjusting his hood further down his head hiding his face behind shadow.
he would wait, and wait to see who would show their faces tonight.
Saint was there, standing in a dark corner. He'd been watching Malcolm for a while, and was trying to decide whether or not to make himself known. His garroting wire hung around his wrist, and he had somehow managed to sneak a pistol into the casino- not that he'd need it if things somehow went haywire.
He ran a hand over his newly buzzed hair, stopping to drag a finger over the scar running along his throat.
He didn't need to let Malcolm see him. He just wanted to do what he did best- stalk his prey, learn their every weakness to exploit them.
Hound stalks in— arguably louder than usual, but still quiet enough that it’s vaguely unsettling. They’re generally displeased with this whole affair, but their mood brightens the tiniest bit when they make eye contact with Saint— it seems they’ve got at least one ally here. They give him the slightest nod of greeting before continuing on their way, avoiding making Saint’s position too obvious to any of the other “guests.”
Unlike Case and Saint, Hound isn’t in the mood for subtlety tonight. They stride right over to Malcolm’s couch, and, without asking, sit right down. They lean on the armrest as casually as they can muster, trying to push their little power play just that little bit further. “A casino for the venue. Ironic,” Hound observes conversationally, before deciding that mincing words just isn’t worth it. “Well. What are we here for, hacker?”
Saint's face remained impassive as ever. He shifted, and just like that, he was gone- slipping silently into the crowd, movements smooth and mirroring those around him, allowing him to blend in instantly despite his unusual appearance. He considered leaving; but something stopped him.
So, he stayed, pausing in a new shadowy corner, gaze fixed on Hound and Malcolm.
leaning back into the couch Malcolm roll his eyes at hounds antics. "considering I own the damn place, this is the most I'm willing to risk my neck for you fuckers." malcom hisses taking another sip of his drink giving the two a small glimpse of his scared lip.
malcom reaches into his pocket pulling out a small piece of paper and a usb, "truth is..I need your help. you have the resources and I have the intel." Malcom admits begrudgingly
Saint tilted his head as he caught the words being spoken. It seemed that Malcolm had an almost endless source of information and intelligence on them all, which he seemed more than happy to use as a bargaining chip to get them to do his bidding.
Saint hooked a finger through the wire around his wrist. The movement had become familiar now; there was a permanent mark in the pad of his index finger from when he'd pulled too hard.
He tilted his head, and continued to watch.
Malcom clears his throat placing his glass down again before sighing,
"listen I know that Pantheon is still a threat and I'm willing to help.." he explains pausing fro a moment before glancing at the both of them again.
"in exchange for immunity."
Malcom leans back into the plush couch of the private room of the casino. It had been awhile since he had gotten any news about anyone, watching from the sidelines was entertaining, but getting involved is..exhilitarting.
"just wait and see...." malcom murmurs to himself adjusting his hood further down his head hiding his face behind shadow.
he would wait, and wait to see who would show their faces tonight.
Saint was there, standing in a dark corner. He'd been watching Malcolm for a while, and was trying to decide whether or not to make himself known. His garroting wire hung around his wrist, and he had somehow managed to sneak a pistol into the casino- not that he'd need it if things somehow went haywire.
He ran a hand over his newly buzzed hair, stopping to drag a finger over the scar running along his throat.
He didn't need to let Malcolm see him. He just wanted to do what he did best- stalk his prey, learn their every weakness to exploit them.
Hound stalks in— arguably louder than usual, but still quiet enough that it’s vaguely unsettling. They’re generally displeased with this whole affair, but their mood brightens the tiniest bit when they make eye contact with Saint— it seems they’ve got at least one ally here. They give him the slightest nod of greeting before continuing on their way, avoiding making Saint’s position too obvious to any of the other “guests.”
Unlike Case and Saint, Hound isn’t in the mood for subtlety tonight. They stride right over to Malcolm’s couch, and, without asking, sit right down. They lean on the armrest as casually as they can muster, trying to push their little power play just that little bit further. “A casino for the venue. Ironic,” Hound observes conversationally, before deciding that mincing words just isn’t worth it. “Well. What are we here for, hacker?”
Saint's face remained impassive as ever. He shifted, and just like that, he was gone- slipping silently into the crowd, movements smooth and mirroring those around him, allowing him to blend in instantly despite his unusual appearance. He considered leaving; but something stopped him.
So, he stayed, pausing in a new shadowy corner, gaze fixed on Hound and Malcolm.
leaning back into the couch Malcolm roll his eyes at hounds antics. "considering I own the damn place, this is the most I'm willing to risk my neck for you fuckers." malcom hisses taking another sip of his drink giving the two a small glimpse of his scared lip.
malcom reaches into his pocket pulling out a small piece of paper and a usb, "truth is..I need your help. you have the resources and I have the intel." Malcom admits begrudgingly
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Malcom leans back into the plush couch of the private room of the casino. It had been awhile since he had gotten any news about anyone, watching from the sidelines was entertaining, but getting involved is..exhilitarting.
"just wait and see...." malcom murmurs to himself adjusting his hood further down his head hiding his face behind shadow.
he would wait, and wait to see who would show their faces tonight.
you notice an unusual file had downloaded onto your computer a message was attached to it
'shall we start a little game?'
you can see that the downloaded file is a video, you click on it'
"NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP-"
suddenly you hear laughter coming from a small speaker that your certain wasn't in the room before
Diana groaned as she attempted to locate the source of the laughter. When she failed to do so she tried exiting out of the file or pausing the attached video. Still her computer speakers blared the lyrics.
"Damnit-" she grumbled, "I swear to god if you don't quit this I'm finding you!"
She had no real way of knowing but she had a feeling she knew who had caused the disruption.
Graves knows that he and his father are alike. They look alike, and they have similar personalities. Work is a priority and rely on no one. Yet, both of them are unsure how of how deep those similarities go.
So, when Phillip visits home and wakes up in the middle of the night with the craving for chicken tenders, he heads to the kitchen.
And finds his father with a plate of chicken tenders and fries that he's about to dig into.
And because Phillip Graves is a grown man who has survived the worst of situations on his own, he nabs a chicken tender off of the plate and a handful of fries.
The disappointed sigh he hears from his father is far too reminiscent of his own.
@project-saint-707
Hands clasp together Malcom sits tensely hood drawn over his head dressed in full black a black surgical mask covering his face along with sunglasses.
he hated being out in the open like this....but he had to take the risk, this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
"what the fuck am I doing.."
he curses running a hand through his hair tugging the hood further ove this head. the cautious glances of his employees flicker over him. he owned this damn casino he should be acting like it, not cowering from a fucking experiment.
The fucking experiment in question walked in, looking somewhat... out of place. His whitish blond hair was getting long, curling around his ears; he wore a light grey hoodie, hood pulled up. His eyes glinted translucent grey in the low lamplight as he made his way through the casino.
Despite his unusual appearance, Saint moved like he was at ease; and that made him blend seamlessly into the crowd, so much that his presence wasn't noticed until he was sliding into a seat opposite Malcolm. Of course, he'd brought weapons; a scalpel in his boot, the wire around his wrist. That was all he really needed.
Malcom clears his throat.
"hello Henry. or do you prefer saint? your files didn't say."
he says pulling down his mask and taking a sip of his whiskey.
"Neither." Saint crossed his arms, leaning forwards and peering at Malcolm. There was that uncanny look in his eyes again; like he could see right through you.
"You're scared," he said softly. "Can smell it."
He could- could taste it on the air, bitter and coppery.
"Care to tell me what the hell it is you want me to do?"
malcom gulps down the rest of his whiskey slaming the glass agianst the table the bartender jumps slightly before refiling the glass.
"of fucking course you can.....as for what I want."
malcom reaches down into his jacket pocket pulling out a perfectly folded peice of paper. placing it softly Infront of saint.
".... I want you to kill someone for me." Malcom says softly, fixing the mask on his face.
"can you do it?"
"Question isn't if I can do it, Malcolm." Saint reached out, picking up the paper and unfolding it slowly. "Not a contract killer, y'know? Never have been." His eyes scanned the note, too quickly for the average person to take it all in. But he set it down, leaning forwards slightly. "How do you know all those things about me? About... the experiments?" Still not allowed to talk about it openly; those were the words that spun around his mind. Even asking a simple question made his stomach turn.
"Abraham was a common guest at this casino, instead of money he offered information, and so after a few games of black jack....lets just say he handed over your files quite easily."
Malcom says keeping his eyes locked onto his glass of whiskey
"once you kill my old college, i'll tell you more."
Saint hesitated. He was more than reluctant to offer his... services to someone he didn't know. It had been years since he'd escaped the labs, and though he had killed since then, he had never done it in this fashion- he'd never been a hitman.
"Tell me why you want him dead," he said. Project Saint may have robbed him of his empathy, but he could still try to- to justify his actions, at least to himself.
malcom hesitated almost shocked by saints words but he quickly regained his composure.
"he's the reason why I don't like showing my face out in public, he's a rat, a traitor and a damn whistle blower. I almost lost everything because of him. I'm sure you understand what that feels like."
Malcom says knowingly, he had studied saints files meticulously, that weasel Abraham was all too eager to hand over those documents to pay off his debt but Malcom wasn't complaining, not when they gave him such deep insight into one of the many crucial players in this little game of his.
Saint crossed his arms and leaned back. He seemed perfectly at ease- despite the fact that, as always, he could see that figure, standing in the corner of his eye, watching.
"I haven't lost anyone," he said softly. It was true- there hadn't been much for him to lose back at the labs. And now, he tended to keep to himself. "Keep talking."
malcom blinks agitated and impatient.
"listen kid, can you do it or not? or did I just waste my fucing time-"
he pauses his eyes following saints gaze before his voice drips to a whisper.
"who the fuck is that." He questions his eyes glaring into saints soul. did saint bring them here? a chill goes down malcom's spine, they were to exposed, to vulnerable, this was a bad fucking idea.
Saint squinted, then realised he'd been eyeballing some poor innocent bystander.
"No one?" He said, feigning calmness. The more time passed since he killed Vogel, the more he saw him; in dark corners, standing in the corner of his eye, whispering, shoving his fingers down Saint's throat, choking him. "Just got distracted. Yes, I've already said I can do it. Just want to know if you're worth my time."
malcom pinches the bride of his nose with his thumb and index finger.
he tapped the side of his whiskey glass calling the bartender to him who quickly refilled his glass, Malcom shooed the bartender away before downing the whole glass in a big gulp.
"nice chat, now get the hell out of my casino." malcom grumbles before standing up and walking towards the far corner of the casino.
Saint stood, following him with his hands tucked into his pockets. "You haven't told me why I should help you," he said quietly. "'Cause I won't unless you do." His eyes glinted in the low light as he tilted his head.
malcom pauses his hand wrapped around the doornob.
"its up to you kid, if you help me. then I'll be at your disposal, any info you want on the other experiments, or any info on your new friends, I can provide any of it. but only if you kill him."
malcom snaps opening the door and the smacking it behind him. the ball was in siant's park now.
What's the weirdest shit you've found when hacking?
...kid.
okay fine, I have a bit of free time.
this one dude, had 28 separate accounts and they all connected to the same Facebook group.
this dude was running a cult with fake members to scam people.
not just with money but also....sexually.
he was a fucking weirdo.
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@project-saint-707
Hands clasp together Malcom sits tensely hood drawn over his head dressed in full black a black surgical mask covering his face along with sunglasses.
he hated being out in the open like this....but he had to take the risk, this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
"what the fuck am I doing.."
he curses running a hand through his hair tugging the hood further ove this head. the cautious glances of his employees flicker over him. he owned this damn casino he should be acting like it, not cowering from a fucking experiment.
The fucking experiment in question walked in, looking somewhat... out of place. His whitish blond hair was getting long, curling around his ears; he wore a light grey hoodie, hood pulled up. His eyes glinted translucent grey in the low lamplight as he made his way through the casino.
Despite his unusual appearance, Saint moved like he was at ease; and that made him blend seamlessly into the crowd, so much that his presence wasn't noticed until he was sliding into a seat opposite Malcolm. Of course, he'd brought weapons; a scalpel in his boot, the wire around his wrist. That was all he really needed.
Malcom clears his throat.
"hello Henry. or do you prefer saint? your files didn't say."
he says pulling down his mask and taking a sip of his whiskey.
"Neither." Saint crossed his arms, leaning forwards and peering at Malcolm. There was that uncanny look in his eyes again; like he could see right through you.
"You're scared," he said softly. "Can smell it."
He could- could taste it on the air, bitter and coppery.
"Care to tell me what the hell it is you want me to do?"
malcom gulps down the rest of his whiskey slaming the glass agianst the table the bartender jumps slightly before refiling the glass.
"of fucking course you can.....as for what I want."
malcom reaches down into his jacket pocket pulling out a perfectly folded peice of paper. placing it softly Infront of saint.
".... I want you to kill someone for me." Malcom says softly, fixing the mask on his face.
"can you do it?"
"Question isn't if I can do it, Malcolm." Saint reached out, picking up the paper and unfolding it slowly. "Not a contract killer, y'know? Never have been." His eyes scanned the note, too quickly for the average person to take it all in. But he set it down, leaning forwards slightly. "How do you know all those things about me? About... the experiments?" Still not allowed to talk about it openly; those were the words that spun around his mind. Even asking a simple question made his stomach turn.
"Abraham was a common guest at this casino, instead of money he offered information, and so after a few games of black jack....lets just say he handed over your files quite easily."
Malcom says keeping his eyes locked onto his glass of whiskey
"once you kill my old college, i'll tell you more."
Saint hesitated. He was more than reluctant to offer his... services to someone he didn't know. It had been years since he'd escaped the labs, and though he had killed since then, he had never done it in this fashion- he'd never been a hitman.
"Tell me why you want him dead," he said. Project Saint may have robbed him of his empathy, but he could still try to- to justify his actions, at least to himself.
malcom hesitated almost shocked by saints words but he quickly regained his composure.
"he's the reason why I don't like showing my face out in public, he's a rat, a traitor and a damn whistle blower. I almost lost everything because of him. I'm sure you understand what that feels like."
Malcom says knowingly, he had studied saints files meticulously, that weasel Abraham was all too eager to hand over those documents to pay off his debt but Malcom wasn't complaining, not when they gave him such deep insight into one of the many crucial players in this little game of his.
Saint crossed his arms and leaned back. He seemed perfectly at ease- despite the fact that, as always, he could see that figure, standing in the corner of his eye, watching.
"I haven't lost anyone," he said softly. It was true- there hadn't been much for him to lose back at the labs. And now, he tended to keep to himself. "Keep talking."
malcom blinks agitated and impatient.
"listen kid, can you do it or not? or did I just waste my fucing time-"
he pauses his eyes following saints gaze before his voice drips to a whisper.
"who the fuck is that." He questions his eyes glaring into saints soul. did saint bring them here? a chill goes down malcom's spine, they were to exposed, to vulnerable, this was a bad fucking idea.
Malcom sits slugishly on a park bench his legs swaying aimlessly beneath his his eyes downcast and locked onto the screen of his phone, his hood drawn tightly over his head hiding his face in shadows.
he didn't know why he decided to go outside today, there was nothing special happening today but Malcom couldn't help but remain seated on the park bench.
Mood board based on Malcom "casino" hawks.
Headcanons about my boy Malcom!
1.he has a cat! he doesn't care about what breed it is and didn't bother to learn when he first adopted her, her name is Apache. yes apache attack helicopter. she's fat and fluffy and he loves her.
2. Malcom has a god complex, he loves the thrill of the game and toying with other people's lives for the sake of entertainment and he's not above selling out allies for a good show.
3. he owns several casinos and makes money through them both legally and illegally. he's technically a crime boss but he prefers to stay in his room.
4. he has played Minecraft.
5. He has camera's and speakers everywhere. he also treats his equipment like their his children, he takes care of them and if another person DARES to touch his kiddos they will no longer have a digital footprint and will be disposed of.
6. he exclusively dresses like a depressed teenager because the hoodies and sweatpants are more comfortable than anything else.
7. NOBODY knows how old he is. no birth certificate, no birthday NOTHING.
@project-saint-707
Hands clasp together Malcom sits tensely hood drawn over his head dressed in full black a black surgical mask covering his face along with sunglasses.
he hated being out in the open like this....but he had to take the risk, this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
"what the fuck am I doing.."
he curses running a hand through his hair tugging the hood further ove this head. the cautious glances of his employees flicker over him. he owned this damn casino he should be acting like it, not cowering from a fucking experiment.
The fucking experiment in question walked in, looking somewhat... out of place. His whitish blond hair was getting long, curling around his ears; he wore a light grey hoodie, hood pulled up. His eyes glinted translucent grey in the low lamplight as he made his way through the casino.
Despite his unusual appearance, Saint moved like he was at ease; and that made him blend seamlessly into the crowd, so much that his presence wasn't noticed until he was sliding into a seat opposite Malcolm. Of course, he'd brought weapons; a scalpel in his boot, the wire around his wrist. That was all he really needed.
Malcom clears his throat.
"hello Henry. or do you prefer saint? your files didn't say."
he says pulling down his mask and taking a sip of his whiskey.
"Neither." Saint crossed his arms, leaning forwards and peering at Malcolm. There was that uncanny look in his eyes again; like he could see right through you.
"You're scared," he said softly. "Can smell it."
He could- could taste it on the air, bitter and coppery.
"Care to tell me what the hell it is you want me to do?"
malcom gulps down the rest of his whiskey slaming the glass agianst the table the bartender jumps slightly before refiling the glass.
"of fucking course you can.....as for what I want."
malcom reaches down into his jacket pocket pulling out a perfectly folded peice of paper. placing it softly Infront of saint.
".... I want you to kill someone for me." Malcom says softly, fixing the mask on his face.
"can you do it?"
"Question isn't if I can do it, Malcolm." Saint reached out, picking up the paper and unfolding it slowly. "Not a contract killer, y'know? Never have been." His eyes scanned the note, too quickly for the average person to take it all in. But he set it down, leaning forwards slightly. "How do you know all those things about me? About... the experiments?" Still not allowed to talk about it openly; those were the words that spun around his mind. Even asking a simple question made his stomach turn.
"Abraham was a common guest at this casino, instead of money he offered information, and so after a few games of black jack....lets just say he handed over your files quite easily."
Malcom says keeping his eyes locked onto his glass of whiskey
"once you kill my old college, i'll tell you more."
Saint hesitated. He was more than reluctant to offer his... services to someone he didn't know. It had been years since he'd escaped the labs, and though he had killed since then, he had never done it in this fashion- he'd never been a hitman.
"Tell me why you want him dead," he said. Project Saint may have robbed him of his empathy, but he could still try to- to justify his actions, at least to himself.
malcom hesitated almost shocked by saints words but he quickly regained his composure.
"he's the reason why I don't like showing my face out in public, he's a rat, a traitor and a damn whistle blower. I almost lost everything because of him. I'm sure you understand what that feels like."
Malcom says knowingly, he had studied saints files meticulously, that weasel Abraham was all too eager to hand over those documents to pay off his debt but Malcom wasn't complaining, not when they gave him such deep insight into one of the many crucial players in this little game of his.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
So you're the one who can hack into any space...? Why take up this position? Do you just want others to suffer/to see the truth or something?
- @enakogan
The best entertainment is watching people flail around looking for answers I know. Knowledge is power, and I'm going to learn every little thing about everyone.
Oh... Interesting. How much does it cost to have you look into someone for me...?
I'm quite flexible. cash, card. whatever suits but..I'm also partial to favours.
Favours? May I ask what kinds?
I do something for you, and when it suits me i'll contact you and you'll do something for me.
So you're the one who can hack into any space...? Why take up this position? Do you just want others to suffer/to see the truth or something?
- @enakogan
The best entertainment is watching people flail around looking for answers I know. Knowledge is power, and I'm going to learn every little thing about everyone.
Oh... Interesting. How much does it cost to have you look into someone for me...?
I'm quite flexible. cash, card. whatever suits but..I'm also partial to favours.
