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The men stared at Marc for a few moments. They didn’t [i want] to fight. That was until the little cursor appeared on the camera lens of their vision, hovering just underneath Marc’s knee cap in white lettering.
[i Continue.[pic http://www.tutorialsforopenoffice.org/images/cursor_flash.gif]]
[i You have 10 seconds of light left.[pic http://www.tutorialsforopenoffice.org/images/cursor_flash.gif]]
One of the men glanced up over Marc’s shoulder to the Lieutenant, seeing the growing scowl on her face and hesitated further. However far away, her eyes narrowed a little at their hesitation, hand turning the glass faced, cellular phone in her hand back upright and dialed. The two men pursed their lips, exchanging a glance, and closed their eyes.
She put it to her ear. Her voice was quiet and businesslike, her eyes trained on the strapping form of Marc now, speaking to another man stationed at the near transformer that supplied the house, “[B Cut the lights.]”
“[+gray Yes Lieutenant.]” came the reply. The man’s hand clamped down on the rubber ended pliers and disabled the proper technology. The timer counted down on the backsplash lenses, Marc’s knee illuminated now in the pale registration of the filter. There were cries of fear from women and men, gasps and the typical murmur as people started to get even more uneasy. The Lieutenant blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, her augmented gaze adjusting sharply, pupils dilating and reflecting what little light, quickly hiding the glow of her phone so that it wouldn’t show the muted refraction in the backs of her eyes even through the dark contact lenses, and slipped it back into the inner pocket of her coat.
The two men left standing against Marc Spector armed themselves. One had the padded gloves still, the next reaching behind himself, pushing up the hem of his shirt and pulling out the knife he had tucked under his belt, wondering how easily the man they were facing could see in the dark*. The Lieutenant did as well, being the whole point of the operation. This was a reconnaissance visit. Her hands went absently into her pockets, jostled by blinded people without night vision, growing tired of the contact she slipped through the crowd as fluidly as she could to get a better look at the growing situation. She would not intervene, not even if Spector were to threaten the lives of the agents. It would be important to know if he would end up killing them or not.
I might not explain it just now, but they can see perfectly fine in the dark. But they are completely human, no mutants or anything.
[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]]
“[+gray Alright, now,]” the Corporal’s voice piped from the console’s holographic screen hovering just above her desk. “[+gray place your fingers together into the center of the console’s projection light.]”
“[B Together.]” the Lieutenant repeated, pressing the pads of all her fingers together as instructed and putting them in the light.
“[+gray Yes, together. Now, as you pull your hand away, spread your hand again to signal it to maximize my image.]”
Gweniviere frowned and pulled her hand back, spreading her fingers. The console gave a shivering blip and the small image flickered to all corners of the home office to the small panels set around like surround sound to refract the image through all corners. “[B There, did it work?]” She frowned a bit, feeling underwhelmed.
“[+gray Yes,]” Arndt replied, “[+gray now I’m getting a feed of the office.]” he said. “[+gray My, I’ve never seen you in civilian clothes, Lieutenant, that are so-]”
“[B Shut up.]”
“[+gray comfortable looking.]” he finished as his full bodied image flickered into existence in the office off to one side of the woman’s apartment. “[+gray Ah, there we go. I’ve got full feed on you- can you see me?]”
[center [pic https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/14/ec/c5/14ecc5089a5a2e50f8b612809f51396c.jpg]
“[B Yes.]” the super soldier replied, nodding and standing up from where she had perched on the corner of the desk.
Corporal Arndt seemed to take pause, tilting his head some, the blank face of his mask giving her a seemingly pensive look. “[+gray Lieutenant-]” the synthetic mused, “[+gray are you wearing shoes?]”
The German woman huffed out a sigh, “[B I have wood floors to protect, Corporal. Can’t have the hobnails in the heel on the finish. Note the carpets.]” she said, tossing her head a little.
“[+gray Oh,]” he replied, nodding his head and folding his hands in front of himself, gently laying his gloved fingertips together. It was a sign of his embarrassment, most likely from having not taken note of the obvious and feeling a bit inferior.”[+gray of course.]” The two stood head to head now, Gweniviere having lost the height of the heel of her boots gave her, bringing her down to the Corporal’s level who did in fact have shoes on. He must have noted the difference between 6’4” and 6’2”. She waited, allowing him to feel as uncomfortable as he was able to bear before he gestured with one hand towards her, speaking quietly. “[+gray Now shall we move on to business?]”
The woman dipped her head a little, backing up and turning towards the large map spread across the wall, crisscrossed with red, gray and blue threads connecting places, pictures and notes written in different languages and hands, depending on the author and of the patience of thence. “[B So far these are the wanted targets in our immediate proximity through most of the continental globe. Red is Hydra, and blue signifies definitive alliance or cooperation with SHIELD,]” the German woman began, her accent slipping in and out of saturation as she started getting into the rhythm of the English language, but it still touched her words. She wasn’t making an effort to hide it, hence its unsteady nature. Her rough voice broke a moment for want of use and she cleared her throat. “[B and gray is nonbinary. This map doesn’t have R.A.I.D., A.I.M. or Hand, as with their positions currently I find them secondary to scooping up the mess that SHIELD’s left behind itself.]”
“[+gray That’s fair.]” the Austrian-American added, nodding and letting his hands relax to clasp over his lap.
“[B Herr Strassenhunde* has contacted me about an individual he wants to focus on…]”
“[+gray Does the baron know that you call him that?]” Corporal queried, raising a finger as if to gesture to the man.
“[B I can’t imagine it matters.]” the woman turned her head to level a cool gaze, golden eyes holding no room for an argument, but a challenge for the man to plaintively inform her, as he is bound to by nature, that ‘that isn’t very nice’, but he said nothing about the matter, instead shrugging and shifting his weight.
“[+gray Do go on.]”
“[B Fine.]” she finished, turning back and plucking one twined string of both gray and blue, “[B This one,]” she began again, her tone reverting to the informative, comfortable tone of the locutor. “[B is of our concern currently. With SHIELD’s fall and its more recent attempts to scratch together another following, now that their Avengers have been proved as punitive as the rest of us assumed, it only makes sense to assume they are trying to assimilate-]” her golden eyes flickered back to the file laying open on the old, heavy desk, “[B Marc Spector into their ranks.]” she turned back towards the Corporal, her mouth gently curling at the corners into a mean smile, dark amusement in her eyes. “[B Funny how the organization that targeted him initially is trying to gain him back.]” the woman said, the tiniest tone of humor in her voice apparent. Hydra wasn’t the only ones pulling the strings on targets, but they were responsible for the lot of them. SHIELD was unaware of their intentions, of course, to do with how to use the weapons in the first place but they were more involved than they knew in not only its execution, but its selection. Hydra had drawn from the shared pool of information that the two organizations shared and they had not lost any of that when SHIELD ended up falling. They were now left to pick up the pieces.
“[+gray Desperate times.]” the Corporal offered, tilting his head a bit and shifting his weight to the side again.
“[B Truly,]” Gweniviere replied, turning back to the map and plucking the string a bit absently, considering something, eyes traveling along the string to the thumbtack placed in North America, attached to which the picture of the man was impaled along with a small little sticky note with rough German and French scrawled across it in equal parts different ink and hand. “[B We want him first. It would be such a grievous waste.]”
“[+gray SHIELD made him forsake his hood in the first place,]” the Corporal added, “[+gray I am mostly certain he will hold some bitter feelings.]” The Lieutenant hummed a note of acknowledgement. His holographic form crossed over to her and gestured to the surrounding area, covering most of the United States with his blue-hued, filmy projected hand as he moved. “[+gray The United States is a gold mine of raw talent.]” he said mildly, turning his head to look over its expanse, and its numbered faces and names all so close, disconnected with string. “[+gray Despite a questionable education system, the free-thinking world is a very special deposit of bright minds and fortuitous accidents.]”
Gweniviere coughed out a laugh, picking up on the synthetic man’s line of reasoning and finding it amusing. She could only imagine the slight smile on his face underneath that mask, if those muscles worked that way anymore. So long as she had known him, she hadn’t known very well what he looked like organically. They had met in the 1960’s, when the man had been extracted from SHIELD’s indentured service as Hydra had made its movement inwards, and even then the man had bits of technology already augmenting him behind the scars and grafts. Badly burned, was the story, a chemical mess in a warehouse. “[B Radioactive spiders, gamma radiation poisoning beyond belief… it’s a wonder the country is still standing.]” she said, folding her hands behind herself.
*stray dog, German
"Sorry about that." Arndt said, glancing at Alexandrea who was clutching his arm. He gently pulled it back away from her and put it back on the wheel. When the Lieutenant got into the back seat and slid into the center, they were on the move again.
Gweniviere silently put her seatbelt on and folded her long legs against her, noting the back seat had little leg room and she most definitely wasn't the size of whatever child Mercedes thought would sit back here. She glanced out the window through the sideview mirror by Alexandrea's head at the shrinking shape of the van she had left with Agent Coulson lying in the street in front of it, glass cuts on his face. Her breath eased out of her mouth in a quiescent, calming manner. Her shoulders relaxed and her hands released the material of the car's upholstery. They had the girl and Gweniviere herself, and the Corporal, were safe. But the pit of anxiety, twisting at the thought of a missed opportunity, was growing inside of her.
I should have killed him The Lieutenant thought, looking as Coulson's little frame disappeared around the corner. I should have taken just one more moment to shoot him. Then my future life would have been so much easier.
Corporal Arndt seamlessly merged into the common traffic, slowing down and driving safely. He glanced over at the girl when she spoke to him. Shaking his head gently his shoulders twitched in a slight shrug, "You're gifted. Hydra is interested in gifted people."
The Lieutenant finally took her mind from her missed opportunity before she started hating herself for her ineptitude again and turned her head back to the front of the car, listening to what they were saying. The tall super soldier crossed her arms over her chest and put her foot up on the back of the center console . Her golden eyes dropped to a randomly chosen spot on the console. "And SHIELD doesn't need any more people to pull into their delusion."
Corporal Arndt glanced at her, chuckling a bit, as if it wasn't obvious if someone shows their powers in a public space. "[+gray Word travels fast. Rumors always have some hint of truth in them, and it's Hydra's prerogative to seek their ends.]" he finished his statement and suddenly rethought it, "[+gray I-In a manner of speaking, I mean to say their result.]"
In the back of the car the Lieutenant shut her eyes, sighing through her nose. She didn't particularly care about the girl's comfort, save for if that comfort meant control of whatever powers she had. It was a legitimate thing to be concerned about, whether or not a subject's emotions would affect their gifts. When she opened her eyes, Gweniviere's golden gaze was straight ahead, sternly set as she watched their surroundings go by with calculative ease. Her arms crossed over her chest and the start of a bruise on her jaw. She could feel where it would be the next morning. For an unaugmented human being, Agent Mae wasn't one to underestimate in close combat. The force behind her blows at such close range had suggested her discipline. Gweniviere's tongue poked out of her mouth and edged over her lower lip, feeling the burn that radiated through the nerve that had been struck, resonating still as if the blow was yet leaping through her mouth still. She swallowed, the Lieutenant had never been told she wasn't admiring of strong women, and was quick to come to a grudging respect of one out of at least necessity.
The lieutenant had carried the girl, as the Corporal's partially synthetically altered body was strong, but he would tire easily. It was a bit too much action for him for one day, even though he hadn't suffered any blows. He wasn't delicate, by any stretch, but he was an imperfect being, and becoming quickly outdated and a harsher procedure to keep the elderly man functional would be needed soon if he wasn't protected. An expensive, extensive procedure that they didn't yet know how to complete. At any rate, the Lieutenant took charge of the girl and laid her in the room, leaving her blanket with her, the thicker comforter folded at the end of the bed as in any other long-term chambers would have, the sheets folded over the metal framed bed itself.
From the monitor she noted Alexandrea crying... again. The woman rolled her eyes as the Corporal made note of it, tilting his head. "[+gray You'd think after this long she'd run out or get a headache yet after that much crying.]"
The Lieutenant scoffed, "[B Of pop a number of capillaries in her eyes. I reckon when we get in their she'll have a new batch or bright red freckles all around her eyes from crying that hard and that much. Simple science.]"
When Dr. WHitehall approached them he spoke in English, as the German woman was fluent in tongue as Arndt was, being British himself and previously MI6. Gweniviere frowned at him, "[B You know, I've been working longer than you have in this field...]" she paused, allowing him to stop her if he realized his mistake.
Whitehall put a hand up to stop her and the Lieutenant easily relented. "[+green She's our last one unaffiliated.]"
"[+gray We'll take care of it.]" the masked Corporal said, his voice a bit tinny and static from behind his respirator filters, snapping to attention and folding his arms behind himself as he gave the elder immortal a pert nod.
The Lieutenant Commander, as her full rank suggested, looked over to the monitoring one-sided glass panel on the side of the detention room to look inside at the cowering girl. "[B You'd think,]" she began, "[B that a white, middle class American prat would at least have some dignity.]"
Corporal Arndt shook his head as he picked through the assorted file on the girl on the desk, "[+gray You generalize.]"
"[B I take an average.]" she reminded him, holding out a hand for the file that the shorter man handed her and she flipped through, pulling out a picture of Alexandrea, a candid shot taken from across what looked like a school campus. The woman tilted her head, looking over the young man standing next to her and gave an offhanded, dismissive hum. So much that could be taken from her. That showed a real comfort in her world, the ability to make connections like that. It was something that the Lieutenant was, once a long time ago, able to do but had since lost almost all of those people and hadn't thought it prudent to find more. That was the problem when you lived through the generations of those around you. She was almost 97 years old, even if her loved ones had lived full lives most would have been gone by now anyways.
Pushing away the thoughts, the Lieutenant turned and went down the hall and around the corner to the door that would lead into the girl's room. Gweniviere knocked twice quickly before opening the door, her gaze still angled down at the file before closing it and raising her head to meet the girl. The Lieutenant was dressed still in her uniform pants and boots, but had taken off her grim uniform coat and was now in a simple, white button up with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing the numerous scars that crisscrossed her forearms. The collar was unbuttoned comfortably as well, the scars on the woman's chest and throat that extended up under her chin were shown without hiding them. The scars on her face, the ragged one that crawled up the right side of her jaw from the corner of her mouth, the two on her other cheek... She wasn't one for superficiality. Why hide scars she had to suffer to get? Why feel ashamed?
The Corporal poked his head in the door, his glassy face glancing around, "[+gray Shall I come in too?]"
Gweniviere stopped by the table, letting the file down on it, her fingertips trailing the surface of the table and glanced at the girl. "[B I think I can handle it for now, thank you...]" she said in her low, rough voice, made so from the evidence of destruction done to her throat. It hadn't been necessarily the same since. Too much scar tissue.
Corporal Arndt nodded, tipping his hat a bit, and was about to close the door...
The clothes and pose
Lieutenant Nietzsche inspiration uniform prewar
[i motion to pull from pocket to get into hand]
found this too~ :3
***If you write for this remember that Danny said it's all about trapping limbs and counterbalancing your opponent
DO NOT OP
Lieutenant fight references-
[i Literally the last two seconds]
Future reference cuz reasons...
Shape and shadows cuz apparently we've yet to conquer our fear of drawing this little shit.
Look at these shadows! Shit!
Eye and brow ratio/relationship/character
profile and expression
Shit this is cool! Use this pose... somewhere
Neck shoulder relationship
Man curves! Cuz this old man is hopeless.
[B Ideas, ideas, ideas- masterpost for Gweniviere related... stuff.]
[i In essence: Hair, androgyny, facial structure with hopes of defining her further visually as an individual.]
THIS ONE IS VERY IMPORTANT
The Lieutenant's fingers found the scar on her face, stretching from the right corner of her mouth. She turned her head, viewing its contrast between light and shadow in the mirror, and tried to smile. Her mouth pulled down and out at a strange angle, turning her smile into more of a crooked smirk that was not shared in the rest of her expression.
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.