#e1igius

so when she heard it again, that familiar tone that grated against her nerves, she swung. that well was overflowing, trying to contain a hurricane inside stone walls. sometimes it wasnt enough. sometimes it all bled through. her fist connected with the boys face, feeling a satisfying crack under her knuckles. the rush of adrenaline numbed the pain in her hand as he went down. everything after that was a blur. the boy got back up and swung back, his friends still dogging him for getting hit by a girl as much as cheering him on. she went into muscle memory, taking a tackle to the ground in favor of wrapping her arms and legs around the boy from the back, an arm snuggly around his throat.

the other boys saw his friend struggling and moved in, she ducked her head down, never letting go. ' hold as long as you have to ' when she glanced back up, the boy clawing at the arms of her sweater, throwing fists behind him—someone else had beat them to the punch. literally. he fought like manny did, controlled and practiced. nothing like her. the fact that anyone was helping her at all was enough for her finally let go of her victim. he choked on much needed air, landing an elbow to her side before pushing himself up off the ground. with bloodied faces, two limping, the three of them took off down the street screaming obscenities as they went. fuck them.

" you didnt have to do that, " she mumbled. her heart was still racing, adrenaline still doing its job as it coursed through her. anita pushed herself up off the concrete, her white sweater was splattered with blood. hers, his. she didnt know. what she did know was that she could taste blood, running her tongue along the cuts inside her cheeks where her teeth ripped open skin. she touched her cheek with a wince, that was gonna be a nasty bruise.

" where the hell did you come from anyway? " slipped out of her mouth before she could catch it. the sun was setting, leaving the little street between the main town and suburbia rather empty.

Bucky’s path up the sixty-three storey office building hacking through secure doorways and evading cameras is proven all for naught when he finally gets into the penthouse office and is met with the whistling breeze coming in through the shattered window — and his mark head down on his glass-top desk in a pool of blood. ‘ God damn it. ’ 

Bucky’s noticed a pattern over the past couple of months of rocking up to a mission, only to find  his job completed for him. On paper, Bucky is no assassin. It wouldn’t do for word to get out that SHIELD was in that kind of business. They were supposed to be good guys, after all. But some cases required a certain touch and that was where people like Bucky came in. His mission directive was never to assassinate — but he’d earned his status by reading between the lines, and was therefore invaluable to HQ. This target, though, was not an assassination target. Even if it had been, SHIELD are a lot more subtle in their approach to execution and Bucky was skilled in the art of staging a natural death. There’s nothing natural about this. The guy was sniped out and even if Bucky tried to clean this mess up a little, a coroner would be able to figure out the cause of death probably with their eyes closed. 

‘ Everything okay, Barnes ? ’ comes the voice in his ear.

‘ No, ’ Bucky grits out, stepping over glass to jab two fingers at the fortune 500 CEO’s neck, checking for a pulse. There is none, obviously, and his fingers come away bloody. ‘ Mission’s compromised. Again. Someone’s getting to these asshats before us and it’s really starting to piss me off. ’

‘ Starting to ? You know all of Ops heard your row with Hill last time you tried to prove ‘ he was dead when I got there. ’ You gotta start wearing your body cam. ’

‘ No thanks. Hey, can you scan the building across the road ? Try, uh, the sixty-second floor. Or sixtieth, actually. Angle of the bullet’s low. ’ He wrinkles his nose, pushing the guy’s head down to inspect the entry point at the back of the neck. 

‘ Ah — floor’s empty. HVAC’s kicked in . . . looks like there’s a window left open. Wait, hang on — someone just accessed the elevator. They’re riding the emergency override down . . . That’s about — 82 seconds ‘til they reach the bottom — and counting. ’

‘ Got it. Thanks. Tell Hill I’m calling it a night. Mission’s a bust. Thanks for your help, Saunders. ’

He pockets his in-ear device. Fifteen seconds to set up his anchor and rope. Fifty-three to repel down the front of the building through the window his mystery sniper had graciously broken for him, fingerless gloves taking the brunt of the rope burn. It’s late enough, dark enough that he might just get away without being seen.

Thirteen seconds to cross the street. He curses under his breath — was he too late ? If he’d just sniped someone from another building, where would he go ? Rounding the corner takes him to the avenue that runs between the tall buildings that line the street. It’s poorly lit and deserted at this time and if he wasn’t looking for someone coming out of the emergency exit he would’ve missed the shadow slinking out into the dark.

@e1igius​ asked; ❛  are you even listening to me?  ❜

The phone had some water damage, and the phone screen, shattered. However, it was not the end of the world. Gemma had her ways of gaining access to the intel that was on the phone. If she could get the microchip out, she could get the intel, an old spy trick. She figured that was why the fucker she tailed decided to destroy it, thinking it would be a way to get them to lose his scent. Which was wrong, so very wrong. Small hands worked to pull the chip out. Using tweezers the chip was nearly out when she heard the other speak. ‘Are you even listening to me?’ The answer was no. She was not listening to a word that the other had said. Yeah, she heard what he said. But couldn't tell you anything that he said, especially when it came to someone like him. He was batshit crazy, at least in her opinion, he was “Oh, yeah, I am listening. Keep talking. Sorry for being quiet… Just trying to get this chi--” BINGO, she pulled it out and laid it next to the phone.

@e1igius asked: ‘  now, get ahold of yourself, asshole.  ‘

                       let there be war. rage. gruesome ending for all that came across him. a wolf bound by chains , pinned to the earth. blades slammed into his back while he choked on his emotions. his blood. his entire desire to live. there was no hiding what he was. more so when someone pushed him too far. words , slurs thrown. just on the wrong day could make those eyes turn black. coal like veins running up his throat while those dripping ichor fangs slowly begun to extend.

he could no longer hear words. he could only feel his bones start to crack. shatter. remend in a different shape. a beastly shape. taking a step to hover over the man he marked as prey. don't ask what set him off he doesn't know anymore. it could have been a smell. a comment. a single push while kerr was simply trying to unwind , play a bit of pool. have a drink under the table. those jaws were so close , ready to rip flesh. taste crimson until he felt the grip of his collar yanked back.

suddenly a vision of the elder had him snap jaws only an inch from his face. nose scrunching as those fangs bared. clawed digits wrapping around wrist ready to break it. until he heard the voice. until he focused on ragged heartbeat. where many would see a monster losing control , kerr was drowning. his body sinking into the murky depth , chains dragging him under. taking in too much salted water even as he attempted to scream.

if he could find an anchor. if he could just. ─── a punch to his gut. pain , was always a good focus point. instead of his back shattering against the rocky emotions that laid bare underneath the pressure. he forced himself up. breaking free , head snapping back & able to breathe. ichor eyes slowly turned back to bright icy blue. his skin slowly became it's tanned rather than the pale turning. fangs & claws retracted & his eyes widened at huck. holding his collar close , ready to put a bullet in him.

                        let him put you down like the rabid dog you are!

SHE STARED AT THE DOOR before finally rising a trembling hand and knocking on the painted wood. it was the middle of the night so the hallway of the apartment building was empty, thank god. her t-shirt and jeans had blood on them—she was pretty sure it wasnt her own. the smell of copper and death made her want to throw up. all she had was a cell phone and a cryptic address written on her forearm in lipstick. she didnt know anyone in the contacts, not a single name. when the door opened, her dark eyes widened at the man standing in the door way. he was much bigger than she expected and it almost made her take a step back.

she glanced down at her arm again, reading the name under the chicken scratch numbers. " huck . . ? " she really needed it to be huck because she didnt have a clue where to go from here.