@blancronin

They never expected a kid, did they?

Fury had known this from the start. His babyface had proven to be his strongest asset, even at the age of 24, overpowering his eyes and teeth. If they didn’t know him, they always thought him to be younger than he was. They always hesitated. If he pulled the right expression, he could almost feign innocence.

These men hadn’t expected his outburst, obviously, or surely they’d still be conscious. The exchange could have been cordial, of course. He tried to make it so. ‘I’m here to deliver a package’, he’d said. The men in white suits had laughed. Russians, of course. As if the uniforms weren’t enough, the building gave its alignment away with extensive sickle and hammer motifs. 

He almost found it funny.

Trying again to speak to their boss, to give him the goddamn parcel in his hands, was met with frustration and a shove. And he’d lost it then. Parcel slammed to the desk, he’d knocked down every single man in the lobby, his vision turning red as they ran at him. He made sure not to kill anyone, though. He’d picked up a few tricks from Zeke... No unnecessary killings.

Now, having made his way up to the boss’s office, he leaned against the doorway.

She’s landed herself in Miami again. After not visiting for a while, she’s decided she misses the warmth and neon glow of the strange city. This time, however, she’ll push her limits and find somewhere new to explore. 

She knows most people don’t take kindly to a girl with blades for legs, but who knows? Maybe they’ll think it’s some quirky fashion statement. It does seem to be the place for that kind of thing.

meme

He shot up as if he’d been jumpstarted, snakes furiously snipping and hissing at nothing. The first streams of sunlight that had entered the room had been so soothing to him, so gentle on his skin, that he’d forgotten he was sharing the room with someone who couldn’t tolerate them.

Rolling straight off the couch, the gorgon scrambled to reach the window, hands desperately pulling the curtains shut as the room was bathed in a deep shade of maroon. 

He slowly turned to his companion, dreading what he’d see. Had he been too late? Was the man burning?

meme

He’d been nodding along for a while now, partly to humor the Russian and partly because he was too mesmerized by the language to stop him from speaking. It wasn’t hypnotic by any means, and in fact he often found himself feeling like he was bouncing about, but there was something about not understanding what was being said that kept him in a trance.

What a joke.

He’d had a lot of time to reflect on his and Lebedev’s agreement. What had started as an adrenaline fueled suggestion had become a legitimate job offer after the shootout in the alleyway; the mobster knew his men were practically useless at keeping him safe and, although he could take perfect care of himself, he could do with the extra muscle. Biker could do with the protection, too, now that he felt like a target for those he’d been jerked around by. He was no coward, he was simply cautious.

Or that’s what he told himself, anyway.

The job didn’t come without its insecurities, of course, and that’s what had been keeping him on edge. Lebedev still had no idea who he was, what he’d done. He worried one night he’d drunkenly admit to being with the Blessings, to killing all those men, and that he’d find himself in hotter water than before. He worried he’d have to fight his new boss for his life, which wouldn’t be a problem if the man weren’t so unpredictable. He’d fired a hail of bullets upon men with an injured hand, for fuck’s sake. 

Not only that, but he’d begun to sort of like the guy.

Fear for his own safety was accompanied by his fear of failure, as well as feelings that came close to guilt. Did he regret killing all those men? Not exactly, it had been his thrill fulfillment at the time (putting it that way almost made him sick). Did he regret blindly getting involved with a bunch of fascists and almost losing his life due to it? Yes, that he regretted. He regretted his own stupidity, and he regretted that now said stupidity could threaten the only stability he had in his life at present.

That was the positive. Lebedev had unknowingly pulled Biker from a dark place, a place where he’d be consumed by paranoia and boredom and lack of self worth and would drink himself into a coma. Now he had purpose, and it was the dumbest purpose in the world- protecting a man who hardly needed it, running stupid errands for him, aiding the Russians when he’d been unknowingly trying to ruin them before- but by god, it kept him busy.

He didn’t want to lose that.

Walking into the building as the last rays of sun warmed the tiles, he made his way past the henchmen littering the hallways (colleagues, he thought to himself, and nearly laughed about it), briefcase in hand, before heading right into his employer’s office, doing his best not to lean on any surfaces. 

“I found it.”

[LEBEDEV]