#sudsweep

@valereius asked: " what you want matters little. " / from soap!

it's less than fucking ideal, isn't it? crammed into unfamiliar aircraft, surrounded by unfamiliar faces... well, perhaps not so unfamiliar — for some of them at least. unfriendly is likely a better word. across and to the right of her sits alejandro, his expression revealing a bitterness that had previously laid dormant within him, blanketed and tucked away for years after she'd broken his heart, his trust and his ego in more ways than one. not that she would ever confess aloud to such an intimacy with him, the enemy.

she is indeed a ruler, prepared to dig her heels into anyone for purchase and proud to humiliate and tear down whoever stands in her path but the specifics were nobody's business but their own. they know each other. it goes as far as that, for this crew of misfits sat before her. his brows arch, proposing an unspoken question to her. are you ready for what comes next? his clenched jaw promises retribution but his vacant stare tells her there's more to this façade than first presumed. and she's not able to deny similar feelings, inwardly of course.

this is someone she'd shared so much with, secrets and sensations no other man knew... irked by the abrasive silence, save for the chopper's blades, valeria intensely misses diego's obnoxious ramblings through her custom headset. here, she feels like a common hostage, alongside men she once might've fought beside — that she'd now have no quarrels with driving a blade up into their skull. her sharp gaze lands on an already-acquainted mohawk.

naturally, this situation is far from appealing but she'd consider applauding him if her hands weren't bound. can appreciate the effort, the performance. thinks it's impressive he'd achieved what he had, especially because she'd severely underestimated him. hadn't expected such coordination from a gringo. in fact, she finds it hilarious to see alejandro's had to resort to keeping such company. were his own men not enough? how embarrassing for him, that his failures had led to the americans and brits stepping in. that's how she perceives it, anyway.

pinned between a behemoth donning a skull mask and the american, valeria hisses at an elbow digging into her bicep. " couldn't have brought something bigger? " she complains, shoving against the pointy limb to try and create some space. " can barely fucking breathe in this thing, eh? " what you want matters little, soap pipes up in front of her and she bares her teeth at him, a warning and a grin mixed together. how quickly the roles reversed. it's cute, that he thinks he has the power now. that she's no longer capable of clawing out his fucking eyes — binds or no binds.

@valereius asked: “ i have come here to kick ass. ” / from soap.

the asset makes a point of pausing, of studying the sergeant with obvious intrigue. truth be told, she'd not met anyone like him before. soldiers who tended to be boisterous and energetic equally were inclined to be pushy and obnoxious. soap was as easy going and playful as he was compassionate and genuine. he's a good guy, to put it plainly, which is why mara can't flatten her ever-present hackles around him. can't shake the feeling that there's much more to him than what he presents. after all, no one's good for the sake of being good.

those people don't exist, they're a myth, a fairy-tale. he kills and he sleeps at night for it — justification be damned. is he holy? his purpose that of righteous cleansing? has he been sent by a god? or is he another sucker who believes it's for a just cause? drip-fed lullabies by his superiors and nestled in the bosom of patriotism. she finds the idea of an angelic figure presenting as someone with an accent such as his to be an entertaining thought. no one would suspect him, mara supposes. " just don't go trying to kick my ass, chamo, or we're gonna have a problem, " she quips.