#d3adagain

nightmares prompts

Head lifts from the hand it had been resting upon as eyes blink in surprise, chasing away an annoying grogginess that had threatened to see him sleep on the job. "I don't know what you mean." The lie's an obvious one, and, as made clear by his efforts to avoid the merc's gaze, it's evident that Miguel doesn't believe in it for a second himself.

As if recognising this, a groan seeps from his chest not long afterwards, preferring to remain seated on the floor, scrawling through a tablet than stand on his feet. Letting his thumb stroke the centre of his forehead in thought, combing through Arasaka's archive had taken longer than expected, and would've been better off handled by a dedicated netrunner than a lab technician with his limited knowledge of secure systems and access to quickhacks. But he was willing to leverage what access he still had remaining, to help V, and, more importantly, recover the data that was being requested by her client.

To what ends, he wasn't at liberty to speculate on. As, after all, he enjoyed sleeping at night, without grappling with the hindrance of a guilty conscience.

Our tyrant stood in what appeared to be a river of mangled remains once belonging to a cultured gang well known to V, their bodies strewn across the rundown bar like sewed up toys. Blood pooled on the marbled floor, slick, glistening under the flickering neon flashing lights of the bar that cast erratic shadows on the grim scene. The stench of death and decay hung heavily in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burning electronics. Smasher's cold, unfeeling lenses surveyed the carnage with a sickening detachment, his massive cybernetic frame cutting a dark silhouette against the chaos. Each step he took seemed to crush the broken bodies beneath him further into the mess, adding a sickening crunch to the silence.

From the murky shadows, V miraculously emerged and their voice served as a simple deviation to Smasher's attention. i thought you'd be taller. they spat, the insult incapable of truly piercing the oppressive atmosphere. Our tyrant's expression remained a mask of cold indifference as he slowly turned to face V. He advanced with deliberate, measured steps until he loomed over V, their forms just inches apart. The intensity of his presence was almost physical, his breath a chilling gust. ❝ Cute, ❞ A growl reverberated, his voice a low rumble that promised nothing but pain. ❝ Now, let’s see if you’re as amusing up close. ❞

@d3adagain sent: "i got blood all over your shirt."

Looking down toward his shirt, he finally took notice of it. In the moment, it hadn't mattered. Even now, though, it still didn't. Not really. Not like it was one of his favorite or anything, thankfully. In that case, he may've been a little bummed. But nah, this wasn't a huge deal.

"Ah well," Kerry dismissed. "Ain't the worst blood stain I've dealt with." Looking V over, though, he was relieved to see her looking a bit better. Just a bit. At least from how she'd been looking about an hour ago.

I  NEED  YOU  TO  TAKE  CARE  OF  SOMETHING  FOR  ME  .  .  .  words  spoken  on  a  call,  rogue's put  on  cadence  that  of  someone  completely  unbothered  by  what  had  transpired.  it  was,  in  many  ways,  nothing  more  than  a  cleanup  job.  a  bit  of  trash  [  human  or  not  ]  moved  out  of  the  way  to  make  room  for  those  who  could  do  their  work  properly  and  without  deceit.  it  was  the  sort  of  thing  which  rogue  had  begun  to  think  of  as  being  below  v  both  in  the  level  of  skill  needed  and  in  paygrade,  but  there  were  times  when  the  woman  would  put  aside  what  made  the  most  sense  business  wise  in  order  to  choose  what  made  her  most  comfortable  ;  and  in  this  case  what  made  rogue  most  comfortable  was  knowing  that  v,  upon  walking  through  the  door  and  finding  rogue  alone  with  the  deceased  body  of  v's  own  target,  would  be  able  to  keep  her  mouth  shut  about  it  in  the  future.

there  were  some  things  she  just  needed  to  do  herself. 

a  plastic  plate  with  cigarette  butts  piled  high  and  rogue  offering  a  sardonically  cheerful  wave  would  be  v's  greeting  as  she  entered  the  apartment,  a  loud  sigh  offered  in  place  of  a  genuine  hello.  knowing  that  the  other  wasn't  surprised  to  find  her  there  only  cemented  rogue's  opinion  that  she'd  made  the  right  choice  when  it  came  to  making  the  initial  call. 

the first thing that your muse noticed about my muse prompts

@d3adagain sent: ❛  you have nothing to worry about.  ❜ six word sentence starters | accepting

"And somehow I'm still worrying," Kerry remarked, grinning slightly to himself. Securing the cap over his head, he was cautiously following V toward just... wherever the fuck she was leading him. He was trusting her, but he also knew she very well could've just been fucking with him to get him out of the house.

Well, guess he'd see.