#ragebuilt

@ragebuilt

There was a faux gasp of personal insult as he placed his hand upon his chest in a motion that would suggest that he was clutching pearls, were he wearing any. It wasn't that he didn't OWN some, it was that they CLASHED with the super suit.

"You wound me! Words hurt!" He shook his head a bit. Besides...the ONLY thing getting fired if Valentina Allegra de Fontaine and I are in the same room, is one of my IWI Desert Eagle Mark XIX pistols."

The second portion of their reasoning...well, that was going to take some more creativity to CARVE A LOOPHOLE INTO.

"As for Deadly-Daddy-Dearest, he's MR. AMERICA, so really he should feel obligated to put it up to a vote. Deciding unilaterally on things like that is how we get Tyranny.

Anya felt Kara's hand grabbing for her own , pulling her lazily back to the bed.  She humored her for a couple steps , coming back to the bed to leave one more kiss but not returning more than a knee upon the mattress.  “ I told you , I have an early practice this morning. ”  More than anything , ┈┈ she wanted to stay right there in bed with Kara.  But she wasn't the one who had the day off , besides , they still had their plans for lunch later.  “ I have to be there in an hour , and it's my turn to bring coffee for the girls.  Can't be late and be the one in charge of the coffee for the team.  You'll have me for the day once we meet up for lunch. ”

"I know." Kara sat up and wrapped Anya's sweater around her body. It wasn't that she didn't know what she needed to do, it was that it was so early. It was taking Kara a bit to get used to the early hours the hockey team practiced because her coach came in behind with her and the other girls.

Xue nods along. Even if she doesn't especially agree, she can see where Anya's coming from - they're half-sisters, in a way, cut in the same pattern if not from the same cloth. Both of them came from a bad place. Both of them are trying to be better.

Maybe it's because Anya is further along that she thinks she has to be the one to stop Xue from misstepping. Problem being, of course, that doing what other people tell her isn't in the firebrand's blood. She's meant to be wild and free, and every time she hears "no", or "it's too dangerous", or "you'd get in trouble", there's some part of her that wants to do it all the more. Even when she knows it isn't a good idea.

"Anya-" Too strong. She clears her throat, starts again.

"...Anya. I don't... mean to say what you're doing isn't... good. I know your heart's in the right place."

She hesitates, trying to figure out how to word the thought in her head in a way that won't be as grim as it feels to think. "...I'm who I am because something bad happened to me. And it'll keep happening to me if I let the life I live now be controlled by it. It's not because I don't trust you that I do this, it's just..."

Silence for one, two, three, four, broken by a slightly shaky huff.

He watched her, tilting his head from side to side. He knew that he was older perhaps, his body looked it compared to hers. She looked far more youthful than he did but he had one of the earlier versions of the serum. His was even faulty at that.

"Look, I know only anger. I do not know what to do now that they have left and all that was is gone. I don't have a purpose but my anger and maybe you feel this...maybe you know this in your heart of hearts...."

There   was   no   mistaking   the   resemblance.   The   tilt   of   the   jaw,   the   sharp   cheekbones,   the   calculating   gaze   that   flicked   over   every   exit   point   in   the   room   before   settling   back   on   her.   It   was   like   looking   at   a   ghost   conjured   from   old   propaganda   reels   —   except   this   ghost   was   younger,   unscarred,   and   soft   in   all   the   wrong   ways.   She   had   made   it   her   mission   to   know   all   the   secrets   one   had   to   know   about   the   Red   Room   and   The   Soviets.   Her   father   made   sure   she   knew   everything,   while   her   mother   decided   she   was   to   be   made   the   first   of   her   kind.   And   right   now?   She   sees   red;   for   the   woman   before   her   is   another   representation   of   the   failures   that   came   before. @ragebuilt

Of   the   heroes   that   never   came   back.   Of   people   who   left   them   behind.

— @ragebuilt wants to do the nasty | still accepting

"Okay, fine.. you think you can handle me, tho?"

Some days Bucky felt the grief of missing so much of her life as a rock in his stomach. He grieved for missing her growing up, grieved for not being someone she knew would just love and care for her implicitly. As a boy, he'd always known the plan the world had for his life: settle down with a nice girl and have a couple of kids. It didn't matter that he'd never had much interest in dames, wasn't like he was shouting it from the rooftops. But he figured he could be happy enough. The war got in the way of that, of course, but what really got to him was that HYDRA had taken that and twisted it, stolen his babies from him. It cut him to the core. That they'd used him to help? Some days that was too much to bear.

But he said none of that to her, just continuing to lay out the fresh sheets. He'd already set a glass of water and some painkillers on the bedside table. He wondered for a moment what their life might have been like had they not been caught. He'd have braided her hair and swapped her lost teeth for coins. Closing his eyes, he pushed the imagined past away and focused on the present.