#themultiversemercs

The typical "I had nowhere else to go" trope, but it's character B calling character A in the middle of the night where character A is as Character B is in another country / time zone. Character B is injured and character A has to guide them to a safehouse, through performing first aid, or simply talking them through the event.

“Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?” “And the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

[ ϟ ]—– The prolonged moments, of sheer intent staring at the markings on the wall, they felt stretched out beyond the point of comfort, time passing more languid yet the weight upon his shoulders growing in size.

Golden-auburn head was a fraction tilted, the words studied for the umpteenth time whilst the rage transformed, from budding embers to flickering flame in his core.

The instructions to leave the graffiti as is - fuck off the planet! - die ! - had only fueled the distain in the god's mind, tainting what once was nigh-unbreakable love for humanity with thick, relentless anger.

It was a pity, and colored with sadness and regret, for it was telling of how the worlds had changed, how they had changed, and the once firm bonds between him and them were being more severed with each passing day...

' My lord..'

Whatever disdain the god carried in his mind Valkyrie's tone bore it proudly when speaking of the mortals, her voice heavily laced with it once she receives his attention.

' They are here.'

Outside the Asgardian compound, carrying the optimistic name of "New Asgard" on a sign at the entrance, the black vehicles stood in waiting, the gate opened after thunderer signals with a nod.

' How many? '

' They did not tell, but Thor...'' a pointed, warning shift in her tone. ' They are not like the others, clearly not like the others.'

' We will see.'

Adjusting composure was a necessity, staving off the worst of the rumbling rage within his being, shoulders rolled and approach to the gate a heavy, quickened stride.

There was no ceremony evolved, no grandeur or expressive gestures to be done as with meeting delegations, no proper decorum. Despite title, despite the essence of a King evident in posture and stern expression, Thor plants himself firmly on the road into the compound without royal attire, or an escort of any kind, awaiting what was to come with rising dread.

starter for @themultiversemercs

It had been a while since Angel had had a day off work, and he planned to squeeze every last drop of relaxation out of these twenty-four hours as he could. Having hit the town in an attempt to drown out the misery of the day, he had collapsed into bed in the early hours of the morning in an intoxicated haze, thinking of nothing but the blissful sleep he would have knowing tomorrow was his own. He could stay in bed all damn day if he wanted to, just him and Fat Nuggets, snoozing peacefully with nowhere else to be.

That was the plan, anyway. Or so it had been, until an unholy cacophony in the form of multiple gunshots, screams, and the various gruesome sounds of a fire-powered brawl had rudely interrupted his well-earned rest. The ten seconds between him waking up and storming over to his window to witness whatever brutal massacre had disturbed his slumber were enough time for the spider to go from zero to one hundred.

A glance outside the window showed the suspected carnage, as well as a single gunman who appeared to be defending the hotel from... well, whoever they were, it would be a long time before they regenerated back to their old selves. Still, who the fuck staged a mass-murder at - he glanced to his bedside clock - ten in the morning?!

Sharp brows knit together in a confused expression as she watches the make suddenly leave from the dinner table, “wait, you can’t just leave before the meals arrive.” She’s quick to stand, the sounds of her heels clicking loudly behind her as she follows behind him. “Was is it something I said?” She questions aloud. She had thought things were moving quite smoothly, the information she had acquired for her ‘date’ seemed to have been working. Small talk was simple, as was flirting, when you knew exactly what to say to entice the other. Had she perhaps failed at properly understanding her target? "don't make me chase you in these god damn shoes!" she snaps.

"Okay. That's the last time I give Sentinel access to my fucking armoury."

"So I hear you've met the boss."

The voice came from the door behind Jade as she sat in a room not dissimilar to an interrogation room, a fiery redhead stepping into room with a handgun clearly visible in a holster on her hip, moving to sit down at the opposite side of the table to Jade.

Things had not been so great for Arch and his company in recent months, and they were losing agents left and right. So when the medic of his team suggested they "Do it like the old days", it seemed like it was at least an idea to try in the lack of any better ones.

(...I can't figure out an actual full starter but hopefully this is enough to get a ball rolling?)

"Get those civvies out of the bloody firing line! You've got some spice in your veins, I can feel it! So go, I'll cover you!"

Arch should've known the one time he turned up to an easy security gig for a change of pace would the one time that shit would indeed rocket fanward. He had managed to take out a few of the rapidly approaching terrorists, their leader rambling on the loudspeaker about American indulgence or mutant heresy or whatever. Arch had heard it all before, and was tuning it out to ensure he kept up his accuracy. He turned a corner and threw a wicked haymaker at the assailant threatening Jade, sending him flying.