[Deleted]

live fast, die young

Wearing

485w

 If you asked her a year ago, she would've seen herself in a way different place than where she was now. She'd burnt through her small savings in just a handful of months. While the DJing was bringing in at least a little bit of steady income, she was forced now to save it rather than spend after the landlord finally got fed up with half payments and late notices. The hardest thing at first was finding where to store whatever she owned. If she went home, her mother would know. That didn't sit well. She remained kept in the dark.

Cory shuffled her belongings trip after trip from her apartment to a gutted-out, old mattress factory in a decaying industrial area on the edge of town by the rail yard. It was cold as hell, but it was free. Food, minimal gas for her bike, and the laundromat were all she spent her money on while the rest got shoved in the bank to try and get enough for a deposit on another cheap apartment. That was until she realized... sleep wasn't all that grand when you lived nowhere. A stupid reaction to a lack of ownership and safety, maybe. Regardless, the first time she saw him in her head she refused to close her eyes for one more second until she found a way to drown him out.

That way just so happened to be a little more expensive than she liked, but at least she knew the right circles of people. It was difficult to need to drive and walk everywhere with all eyes out for metakind. Geez, what a one-eighty the world had taken. "Here's that, some leftover green too," she smirked to an old regular of hers. Call it a tip. Adam was an idiot but he was a harmless enough good guy. She smacked the money and bag of leaves in his hand during a handshake. She'd already stuffed the drugs for the trade in her backpack and the skinny man gave her a friendly bump of the knuckles onto her shoulder.

"Be careful with that stuff, Cor, yeah? I'm running out, don't think I can't get any more this week."
"Don't sweat it, I'll be good w-."
"FREEZE! On the ground, now!"

The second she heard the word she forgot herself and went into overdrive with fight or flight senses. The flashlights hit them in droves, obviously having followed the not-so-careful dealing this guy had set up for the two of them. Damn it, Adam.... Before she could even think through the situation, she'd jumped nearly fifteen feet into the air onto a fire escape ladder to flip up the stairs and sprint to the roof. He was no doubt already in cuffs, but all she could hear of them now was shouting for backup and 'Meta meta meta!', 'We have a super!', ringing through the air. Cory didn't look back. She just ran.

Jack Fontaine
Ready or not...

♡

[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Coryelle Wilde

Jack was asleep at their desk when the blaring of the police scanner woke them. They yawned, sitting up straight and rubbing their eyes. The desk surface was scattered with circuit boards and abandoned electronics, a soldering iron resting in its cradle six inches from where Jack's face had been resting only a moment before. They flicked it off. It wasn't as if it was going to run out of juice anytime soon, its nuclear battery had a lifespan almost as long as Jack's, but it was senseless to waste it nonetheless. They sipped at the coffee on their desk, grimacing at its temperature, before dropping the heavy mug back onto the surface and turning to the screens, computers and other devices that made up what could be called a command centre. The blueprints for a collapsible suit rotated on a screen, and they added a few changes as they turned up the police scanner with one hand. Whoever was on the other end was shouting about a chase and a metahuman, which must have been the reason Jack had awoken from sleep. They kept an eye out for metahumans. There were some tentative attempts in the Senate to register metas, but beyond the Hero Program there had been little success, and Jack was always interested in adding more information to their own files. They listened carefully until they discerned a location and then started typing. It didn't take long to hook into the various cameras located around the city, thanks to a backdoor long ago installed in the city's own software. A moment later video feeds began flickering onto the monitors. Jack focused on one in particular. It displayed a woman, early twenties, average height, and sprinting up a fire escape at a pace no normal human would be able to maintain. They began tapping on another keyboard with one hand, and files sprang up. Right height, right age, apparently the right ability. This must be 'Punk. Jack had made it their business to keep tabs on the active metahumans in their city. Paladin was the obvious one, but everyone knew her, even if most had completely the wrong idea about her powers. There were a number of performers who's abilities only added to their shows, then there was Punk. After the Event there had been a number of vigilantes roaming the streets, enforcing the law with an added helping of super powers. Of course it couldn't continue in that fashion. Punk was one of the few that was still active. Mainly because they didn't seem to be that active. Even Jack had struggled to discern a true pattern in her activities, and had come to the conclusion that they didn't really have one. They were an opportunistic hero, someone who stopped crime when they saw it, but without the resources or focus to do more. The Hero Program was an able attempt by the government to halt the tide of metahuman crime, but Jack knew it wouldn't be enough. They watched the screens as Punk was slowly cornered, outmanoeuvred and outrun by police cars. They might be able to run faster than any human, but they couldn't outrun a combustion engine, or a mind as fast as Jack's. It didn't take long to lock her down, thanks in no little part to Jack's assistance, albeit surreptitiously. When it was clear that Punk had no escape, at least none that they would be able to perceive, Jack hit one key and then leaned back. The sound of a dial tone filled the room…

© seadra of gs

[Deleted]

live fast, die young

Wearing

610w

 It was always easy to run. In minutes she'd be home free and just need to figure out which backstreets to take in order to get back to the factory. Everything was all fine and dandy as she bound from one small roof to the next until a group of lights made that broke out from a rooftop exit glared in her face. She skid against the pavement with a curse as they called out orders to freeze and put her hands up (like that'd help them), but she ignored the unlucky cut-off and sprinted around an air unit to keep it between them.

Instead, she jumped off the next side of the building without having looked down and soon realized - a few yards in the air too late - that it was a decent number of stories down. "Shi-Ah!" the word didn't even have enough time to finish before she had to curve down and roll against the concrete of the lower-set roof with a heavy *THD* until she scrambled back to her feet with the sound of roaring engines and sirens down below. How they hell had they reacted this fast? The rooftops were too open... she needed to get low again on the ground, through tight turns and dark corners.

Cory hopped off the side and wrapped her hands around a heavy weather pipe to slide down low enough to feel confidant letting herself fall the rest of the near twenty feet down. This time, being ready for it, she landed heavily on her feet and strode forward. Until headlights lit up and an engine roared in front of her with a sudden flash of blue and red. "Oh, come on!" she turned around and ran as fast as she could the other way with the sound of the cruiser hot on her tail. It was faster, more aggressive. Since when had they been this prepared?

The tight turns and hops over trashcans she made had slowed it down, causing more ruckus with officers on foot. Soon, she was in a low-lit and tucked-away lot for apartments between plenty of multistory buildings. She slid quietly against the side of a pickup while debating her next move when her back pocket vibrated with a loudly exclaiming, 'I fell innnn to a burnin' ring of fiiiiire!' a flashlight immediately hit her face and caught her like a deer in lights. The young officer stuttered out an order, but again she ignored it and ran around the truck. A few gunshots rang out - all missing and causing her heart to race with panic - except the last that lodged into the side of her calf. Cory hissed with a short-lived cry and tumbled through the glass window of a small office building.

"Mother F-!..." she curled, holding her leg for a moment until seeing the ever-searching lights hitting the busted glass from a distance. Forcing herself up, she jogged her best through the building and angrily pulled her phone from her pocket to an unknown number. Jackass sales people... It shoved quickly back into her pocket this time, on vibrate only now, and she used a railing with heavy reliance to pull herself up the few sets of stairs. Right now the strength in her leg was the only issue and adrenaline kept the sting away. A few stories up and she peered down the windows to see the men surrounding the building in some feeble attempt to look for a way out. Her breaths were heavy, chest rising and dropping with frantic movements in her growing panic. There had to be something.

Jack Fontaine
Crap crap crap!

♡

[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Coryelle Wilde

Jack hadn't thought that Punk would actually take a hit, but they had factored the likelihood of it into their plan anyway. It wouldn't do to take unnecessary risks. They started typing again, this time pinging Punk's phone through Whatsapp, uploading a worm that would retarget the phone's ringtone. This time when the phone rang it didn't play 'Ring of Fire'. If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain." They coded the call so that when Punk looked at the screen they would see the caller ID had changed to 'Pick Up Moron'. Maybe she would hang up again, Jack hoped that they did not, while simultaneously jumping into the police radio channel to direct officers to optimum positions for their plan. It might not get the officers the perp, but by the time they realised that the person ordering them about was not a member of the SFPD it would be too late and Punk would be in the wind. They switched to another keyboard and started to type rapidly, calling up programs and establishing links. It wouldn't take long. They switched from the radio mic as they heard the click of the phone being answered. "About time. Now listen carefully, you've got about twenty seconds before everything starts happening." They kept typing, ignoring Punk's questions. "I recommend you drop to the ground now." They hit the enter key, sitting back and starting a countdown. "Five, four, hit the floor, two, one." And then the crane hit the building. It had swung across the road, gathering speed until it crashed into the windows. It kept going, rolling right through the space Punk had been occupying, and grinding to a slow halt. "Get on." Without waiting for a response Jack hit another key and the crane began to reverse with a scream of twisted metal and the tinkle of falling glass.

© seadra of gs

[Deleted]

live fast, die young

Wearing

610w

 Entering the large building had bought her time as the squads of officers talked among one another to get into groups for breaching and clearing before a sergeant arrived on scene to organize and order them all. Cory kept on the high floor and continued to search through the windows for any escape. Why did this office building have to be so far away from all of its neighbors? Newly remodeled had meant the addition of indoor escapes and the removal of the rusted staircases usually on the outside walls.

The only option she could see was the top of a semi trailer across the lot; she'd need to get higher for quite a jump... and even then, could she make it with her calf and run after the inevitable following chase? How the hell had this evening ended up like this? "Damn it, Adam- huh? The hell!" Her hands frantically fumbled with the phone who's ringer she'd shut off as Pina Coladas blared out of the speaker, fingers racing to the volume button. When she saw the screen, her racing heart and panicked face both froze for a second in total beffudlement.

Blinking to snap out of it, she flicked the screen and brought the phone to her ear while returning to her fruitless, limping search for an exit. "The hell is this?" She demanded, voice hastened and on the edge. Needless to say the response she received wasn't at all what she expected. "Excuse you? Hey, who the hell-! Before?! I just got chased for four miles and got shot! I got shot!!" she re-emphasized and finally let the realization sink in,  "Hooooly shit, I got shot. Ahhh, oh my God, oh my God," she spoke quickly and quietly, looking down at the stained jean leg and feeling suddenly dizzy.

"Listen, I don't know what the fuck is happening, but I swear to God if you don't, HOLY SH-!" the low roar of a swinging crane rumbled the building and the sudden crash had her falling straight to the ground with hands over her head and dropping the phone. Glass shattered everywhere as the enormous metal arm exploded the windows on impact and cut through the level's beams like butter. The shrieking, bending metal had her unable to hear anything until it finally stopped and only groaned with the weight on top of it. In the sudden, cold silence she heard the muffled shout of the unknown caller shouting to get on. Cory's eyes went wide and she scrambled to her feet without hesitation when she realized the escape route, snatching her phone and hopping through the bars of the crane's steel arm to use it as a protective cage for what was sure to come next.

"Go, go!" the exclamation happened instantaneously with the yanking-free of the arm from the building's gash. She gasped and held tightly at the violent tugs until the free, cold air greeted her. A few lights tried looking up to track her, but most officers were still getting back up on their feet from huddling to safety. Her adrenaline switched immediately from panic to victory for a split second with a wide smile and a shouted, "Hell yeah! Remember this as the day that you almost caught Captain Jack Sparr-woah!" a slipping foot brought her back to reality and clinging tighter to the crane as it swung away from the immediate danger. Cory took a few breaths and brought the phone back to her ear. There wasn't time for it to make sense just yet, so she found herself in momentary kahoots and shouting slightly over the wind. "Alright GPS ghost, where next?"

Jack Fontaine
Not out of the woods yet. 

♡

[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Coryelle Wilde

Jack tapped a few more commands into the keyboard as the crane continued to move. It swung out over the street, then started to move up. The sound of computer keys was loud as they tapped away, "Hold on." The crane accelerated, the last pieces of rubble and metalwork dropping from it as it spun. By now someone on the ground had realised what was going on, and cops were scrambling back towards their vehicles. It would take them at least a minute to get turned around and chasing her once more, and this time they would be doing it without Jack's help. "You've been shot? Where? Calf?" That was Jack's initial assumption, based on the way Punk had been moving. That and the Police's preference to aim away from the centre mass in order to avoid fatalities. "That sucks, cause this is going to hurt, I'm going to slow down the crane a little, get ready to jump when I say." The crane was approaching the roof of an apartment building, set to pass a few feet above the roof surface. "Three, two, one, drop." The roof was mostly bare, and Jack's vision was limited here, only imperfect angles provided by the cameras on a neighbouring building. Still, the blueprints they had pulled up were up to date, and they directed Punk to a stairwell and down two floors. Fortunately this building was extremely modern, and provided access to its inhabitants through a system of swipe cards. Every lock was linked to a central database, and getting into that database was childs play. The third door down the corridor unlocked itself. The owner of the apartment was out, but their wardrobe was full. "Change. Something out of character." Jack's tone brooked no argument. Not slowing the crane hopefully would have stalled the cops, but it wouldn't have stopped them entirely, if any of them had seen the figure drop from the crane then they would be arriving at the bottom of this building next. "Do it quickly. You don't have long."

© seadra of gs

[Deleted]

live fast, die young

Wearing

449w

"Yeah, can we not talk about it?" she shouted over the wind into the phone. Ignoring the leg was working for now and she was determined to keep it that way. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. "It already hurts! I got this, I got this," she ensured, knowing one step ahead what the plan from here was. Jumps and heights were no issue for her and the call to leap wasn't met with hardly any hesitation - only a slight split second to figure out how best to land and roll in a way that would keep her calf out of as much impact as possible.

Cory shoved her phone into the pocket of her jacket, leaped, and kept her vision trained on the ground until the last second before curling a bit forward and landing only barely onto the ball of her good foot to roll forward and over her own head. A heavy grunt came from the landing but she felt all-in-all in decent shape besides the pulsing ache now inevitably growing from the bullet. "I'm down, I'm good, what next?" she scrambled to her feet, following directions inside from a generator room down the stairs where she tried to catch her breath quieter between halls of residents; using the wall heavily to hobble faster. A left, down another set of stairs, down the hall, apartment 3B.

A keycard lock chimed with a green light and let Cory slide in without any need to kick it open and create a ruckus. "No one home?" she hoped so... When it was confirmed, she turned on a light to find the bedroom and rummaged through dressers. Out of character? No problem. Cory shoved her shirt and jacket into her backpack but left her jeans and boots on. No way was she going to spend less time than what it was worth trying to get those off with the gunshot.

She pulled over a pair of navy sweatpants over the jeans with sparkling silver greek letters on the side. Then, a long sleeve white shirt and puff purple vest. A loose, knit and girly gray beanie helped hide her hair. When all was said and done, she shoved the drawers closed and limped with large strides over to the window to look downwards at the street. "They're not in yet," her breathing was heavy, but she kept her voice quiet, "They're looking. What now?" Certainly hadn't seen herself Jason Bourning her way out of a simple trade tonight with the help of some genius kid hacking her phone... Still wasn't quite as bad as Spring Break senior year.

Jack Fontaine
Sorority chick for a night. 

♡

[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Coryelle Wilde

The Police were not in the building yet. It had taken them some time to turn all of their cruisers around, but they were beginning to make their way around. Jack judiciously misdirected as many as they could, but one or two had actually seen the crane slow above the building, and were ignoring that it had stopped above one a block closer. "Elevator. Now." They watched as Punk hobbled down the corridor to the elevator. There wasn't a camera in the elevator, it was older, but it should still be fast enough to get her to the lobby in time. Jack was relying on the Police being in a hurry to get to the roof. After all, how could she have possibly gotten off the roof? "This is where it gets risky." The limp was a dead giveaway, and although Jack had booked an Uber, it would still be a few minutes away. Punk had to convince the police that she was not the person they were after, and the best way to do that was to play right into their hands. Deliberately. "Wait in the elevator, keep the doors open. Play dumb. Not that you'll find that hard." The officers rushing in through the doors of the lobby saw the light spilling from the open doors of the elevator. One of them shouted out. "Hold it!" They weren't challenging Punk however, and as three of them filed into the elevator, one of them nodded respectfully to the lady apparently on her phone. "Top floor please ma'am." None of them thought to question that the lady in the elevator went all the way to the top floor with them, or the fact that she stayed in the lift after they exited. By the time they realised their mistake, it would be too late, and Punk would have climbed into the limo that had just pulled up outside the apartment building. "You're welcome."

© seadra of gs

[Deleted]

live fast, die young

Wearing

449w

Elevator was easy enough. It was a weird thought as an escape route from all the hustle and bustle of the stunts she'd just pulled to get away minutes ago, but if it worked it worked. "On it," she was quick to shut all of the chest of drawers she'd been through and take a second glance back to make sure she hadn't dropped anything or left an obvious trail behind that screamed 'I just broke into your apartment'. After a quick look, she safely determined to leave the bedroom door open as she'd found it and shut the front apartment door behind her with a lock latching it in place.

The limp was getting worse now that her adrenaline was starting to slow down along with the runner's pace. Her heart rate was starting to rest and the aching sensation was definitely turning into more of a stabbing, accute pain. She grunted angrily at her own balance and speed down the hall, pushing herself to move faster and occasionally looking over her shoulder to ensure the building's emptiness for the time being. "Come on, come on, come on," her thumb pressed the low-lit button nearly a half-dozen times as if to make the machine move faster.

At its own leisure it opened its doors, leaving her to half-tumble inside and take a huge couple of breaths when the doors shut with her securely inside. "Risky? Whadd'you mean risky?" she leaned back against the wall - the clothes in her backpack making the surface more than welcomingly soft - and she the ding of the door made her eyes wide to blankly stare at the few officers that promptly piled in. 'Top floor please, ma'am.' That risky??? Thank God she'd unfortunately been in this kind of situation before. "No problem!" she perked up with a higher pitch, reaching over to the buttons and hitting the top floor button opposed to her 'Lobby' selection.

"Hey, I just want to let you know that you guys do a great job and we really appreciate your service," she pulled the speaker of the phone back towards her jaw for a moment, a facade at a private mention to the 'men in blue'. Her pearly whites earned a nod from the three of them and even a smirk in return, but their attention was quickly drawn back to the buzzing of the radios on their shoulders. Half of it just sounded like too much buzz to even comprehend but maybe she was just too focused on standing up straight and hiding the backpack conveniently smooshed behind her to really pay attention.

Sure enough they'd marched out of the elevator at the top floor to find the stairwell to the rooftop that she'd come from earlier. When the doors closed they'd thankfully remained closed until she reached the lobby and hobbled as faster than a melting snowball in the depths of hell to the front doors. "You're crazy," she half chastised-half laughed. "That me?" she asked at the sight of the limo who's passenger window oddly rolled down. At confirmation on the other end of the phoneline, the older woman in the front seat showed a smile and apologized for the odd choice in uber vehicle - having just gotten off a shift at a hotel. "Yeah, I'm definitely offended," Cory joked through the limp, hiding it now in the woman's sight as she climbed in the back.

She'd never been so thankful for peace and quiet as she was in the back of that limo - the blind pulled up between her and the driver's cab and the empty space to herself. Not daring to inspect her own leg, she kept it crossed over her other shin and pressed as tight as her brain would let her until screaming at her to stop. It was trembling on its own in shock now during its cool-down. The phone went quiet and she pulled it to her face to see the ended call. For the rest of the ride she let her head fall backwards on the top of the seat and caught her breath. 'Think this is it!' the woman called from the front and Cory lifted her head as the vehicle slowed. "Guess so..." A few moments later and she was standing rather awkwardly alone and half-leaning in front of some dump warehouse. "Hello? Ghost?"

[/span]
[/font][/div][/font][/div]

Jack Fontaine
Anyone home?

[/div][/div]♡[/div]

[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Coryelle Wilde + CBE-177/"Anna"

Leaving the computers running, but now compiling code for another project, Jack stood, leaving the various detritus of the days work strewn about on the desk. They left their headset about their neck, the chunky ear pads further highlighting their decidedly skinny physique. Pushing their too-long fringe back they left the room, shutting the heavy door behind them. It wouldn't do to have Punk bleeding all over the workshop after all. The kitchen would do. Jack would just have to get it deep cleaned afterwards. At least there was no carpet in there. "We have a guest!" They shouted up the stairs, letting 177 know that someone was arriving and that her services might well be needed. They had summoned her earlier, knowing that it might well be useful to have a super strong Soviet super weapon on hand. They didn't keep her with them all the time. Jack enjoyed their privacy, and didn't particularly like the idea of having someone with enhanced hearing in their place of residence. Jack checked the cameras, seeing that Punk was the only one about. Opening the door, they smiled welcomingly at their soon to be guest. "You can stand out there all night calling strange things and attracting attention, or you can come in here before you bleed out. It was rather inconvenient of you to get shot." Not that Jack would be the one doing the cleaning. They could clean, but why do that when you could pay someone to do a professional job? Jack was a great believer in the skills of the professional. They gestured to the kitchen, stepping well back as the vigilante came in. "In there, we might need to pry that bullet out of your leg."

© seadra of gs

[CBE-177/"Anna"]

She had gone upstairs and sat with her chin on her knees, perfectly still and silent, listening to the house and waiting for orders. Being summoned here meant she was expected to work at protecting him- no, they, they insisted on being called they-, and so she extended her senses through the house, listening and feeling for anything unusual. She had walked around the house and satisfied herself that there were no obvious weak points in the security, but what man could make man could overcome and it never paid to forget it.

So she sat, and listened, and when heard them get up and call out she stood and went down the stairs to stand somewhere in support of h- them. She wore US army boots and castoff US army pants (a bit too big, but surprisingly close to her size) and one of those sleeveless shirts that Americans called a halter top, in green. She had a gun concealed at the back of her pants. When Jack opened the door and stepped aside she stood behind and slightly behind him, just far enough to show deference but close enough she could get between them (them, them, had to remember) and danger quickly.

The woman who came through the door was limping. 177 took stock of her: thin, very athletic, but clearly unused to pain and probably not experienced in a fight. 177 rated her as low threat.

When Jack said that "we" would have to get the bullet out 177 glanced at him. She doubted he would do it, and he knew that, like any soldier, she knew how to dress a bullet wound. She knew there was a fully stocked first aid kit in the kitchen under the counter.

She held out her phone for him to see.

Shall I deal with her wound?

Jack Fontaine
Coryelle Wilde

[Deleted]

The hobbling was getting worse as the muscle tensed and clenched tightly around the metal, foreign object lodged into the tissues of her calf. The few steps she took towards the house had been the last her leg would let her force it to work on its own, tipping her forward enough to need to grab the metal railing that led up the couple of front steps. She felt the jeans beneath the sweat pants begin to soak through and cause both to stick; the leg burning, but the skin cold from the wind and cool temperature outside. With a curse beneath her breath, she caught herself before the door opened to show a figure she most definitely hadn't expected. A young, rather plain-looking highschool kid.

Now that the adrenaline was out of her system and the minor shock was beginning to settle, dozens of questions started flooding her mind. "The hell-?" she asked quietly to herself, but more than likely audible, and relied on the railing to hop up the few stairs on her good leg and limp or lean her way into the home. Where else was she going to go? Cory needed to get off the damn thing before it shook even more from the muscle weakness and she was pretty sure doing that on the sidewalk of a random neighborhood wasn't a great idea; in-between a rock and a hard place. So, she chose the unknown of the one somehow and for some reason responsible for getting her out of the mess of being cuffed and thrown in a cruiser. She'd already reached her quotta this year for avoiding that.

"Oh, was it inconvenient?" the sarcastic, dry tone refused to hide, unabashed, "Gee I'm sorry, I hadn't noticed," her teeth grit from the worsening, tense fire in her calf on the way to the kitchen before it finally gave out in a shudder of weakness just in time for her to collapse into a chair. Instinctively, she leaned forward and hissed, hands carefully hovering around the wet clothing without knowing what to do to. "Holy shhhhhhit!... Who the hell would- HEY," she jumped in the chair when her head lifted, another person suddenly beside her without having made a sound and showing a phone to the highschool kid. This woman was even smaller but looked ready to star in some war film. "The hell did you come from! Oh my Godddd," she leaned forward again to her trembling leg, "Totally how I wanted today to go. Went to run errands, maybe pick up some groceries, casually get shot, and then get picked up by the Highschool IT Club President and Lady Rambo. No big deal. Nnnng, why the leg!" Back to driving the bike everywhere and using streets and sidewalks like an actual person for a while... Great.

CBE-177/"Anna" and Jack Fontaine

[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Coryelle Wilde + CBE-177/"Anna"

Jack was not particularly a fan of blood, though they now knew that CBE was perhaps completely the opposite. Obviously her enhanced physiology was fuelled by it in some way. Jack was fascinated by the subject, but did not let it bother them too much. Too many metahuman abilities played fast and loose with the laws of physics and biology to let one unusual one distract them from other things. They eyed the sticky patch on Punk's pants with distaste, before nodding to CBE's question. The woman was a trained special operative from the depths of Soviet Russia, if anyone knew how to deal with a bullet wound without proper medical equipment it would be her. Fortunately Jack was not entirely unprepared when it came to medical equipment, and they gestured for CBE to help Punk into the kitchen while they went into the other room, emerging a moment later dragging a rattling metal trolley. "It is inconvenient actually, but I'm sure I can forgive you. Try not to bleed on the floor too much, it'll cost a fortune to get that out of the rug." They waved a hand dismissively at Punk's attempts at an insult. "Please, as if I would waste time with High School these days." They opened one of the cupboards, producing a bottle of vodka. Not much of a drinker themselves, they were still prepared to host should they need to, maybe this was the perfect moment. After all, there was a guest, and they seemed the type that wouldn't say no to a drink. Opening it, they held it out to the bleeding woman. "Better the leg than your freedom."

© seadra of gs

[CBE-177/"Anna"]

The woman who Jack had brought to their doorstep was loud, irreverent, and carrying on more about her wound far more than was necessary. 177 had seen far worse wounds than that; indeed, she'd recovered from far worse than that herself. She doubted it would even be necessary to amputate the leg!

At Jack's nod she strode forward to where the young woman had sat down, holding out her phone for the woman to see.

You may call me Anna. I am from Russia, to answer your question. I am a trained field medic and will be treating your leg. I cannot talk, so don't expect me to be a good conversationalist. I will look at your leg now.

She crouched down beside the woman's leg, carefully looking over the injury. After a moment she shook her head and and stood.

I cannot work with you sitting here. I need to put you on the kitchen table.

She pointed to indicate the (thankfully bare) tabletop, holding out her hand to support the other woman so she wouldn't have to put weight on the injured leg. When she had gotten the other woman settled she went to examine the leg again.

The smell of blood struck her this time, hot and fresh near the broken skin. It smelled of strength and hot power. She froze, holding herself fast against the feelings that swarmed over her. Not a time for feeding. Not a person she could feed on. She took firm hold of herself and gripped tight against the possibility of mischief. The scent of blood was ringing in her mind but she held herself fast as she typed on her phone and showed it.

Remove your trousers. I will be back momentarily.

She turned and had to restrain herself from leaping towards the refrigerator, throwing the door open and pulling open the bottom drawer. She found it in the bottom: packages of cow's blood, acquired by Jack for her use. Stepping around the corner out of the other woman's view she tore the pack open and greedily poured it down her throat. Cold, it wasn't quite the same as it was straight from the veins, but the burning the woman's blood has raised in her resonated with its coming, absorbing it, being quenched, sending a sensation of power and readiness through her veins. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall and reveled in way it coursed through her, the taste of iron on her tongue and down her throat, the way she felt renewed strength coiling inside her, making her the equal of anything.

She returned to the kitchen and to the table, dropping the empty package in the trash can. She smelled blood again now but she was satisfied, sated, and it didn't feel like the smell burrowed into her. She took scissors, gloves, bandages, forceps, antiseptic, and tape from the cart before showing her phone to the woman.

First, I will wash your wound. This will hurt. Second, I will remove the bullet. This will hurt more. Third, I will wash your wound again and bandage your leg, which will hurt a little less than removing the bullet and after which your leg will stop hurting. Please try to hold still. We will begin when you are ready.

Jack Fontaine
Coryelle Wilde

[Deleted]

live fast, die young

Wearing

430w

For only two people being in the room with her, it was hard to imagine anything moving faster than they'd set the speed in dealing with the obviously prepared and expected arrival. The multitude of questions would have to wait til much, much later. The racing beats of her heart from the decent amount of shock didn't do anything to help the fast-paced situation. "Ahh. Huh, what's this?" she squinted her eyes and looked at the screen held in front of her to read - speaking along with hushed breathlessness.  "Uhhh, kay. Anna. Medic, can't talk uhhhh... okay, yeah alright," Cory swallowed before her attention was turned elsewhere.

"I'm sure I can forgive you."
"Gee thanks, I was worried," she looked down a moment to keep an eye on the stranger looking at her leg.
"Try not to bleed on the floor too much, it'll cost a fortune to get that out of the rug."

"I'm not sure if I'm good at aim when it comes to-, huh?" another phone message.
"Table. Like here? Shit, okay," she stood to her good leg shakily and mostly ignored the woman's attempt to help to get it on her own. She was small and Cory didn't feel quite comfortable letting a stranger help her do something she should be perfectly capable of doing herself. It was rough but she eventually got it and let herself lie limp on the flat surface with content that she could finally semi-relax.

While the girl turned away from her after a request to take the sweatpants off the kid had returned with a hefty glass bottle of vodka. Without hesitation, Cory snatched it and sat up the best she could with the support of an elbow before quite literally biting the cap off and taking a heavy swig. The burn caused her face to redden slightly and clench until the fire died down. Then, another swig. "Thanks," she coughed out and set the bottle by her side.

She wiggled around as best she could to pull down the sweatpants - jeans still beneath with the bloodied denim on her calf sticking thickly to her skin - but she eventually got the sorority-lettered pants down to her ankles no sooner than when the phone was given to her again. "Uhhh... kay. Fuck," she worried, biting her lip, "-kay. try to hold still?" she scoffed, letting her head drop back down to the table.

"Better your leg than your freedom."
"Heh..." there was that. Damn good point. "Ain't no one gonna take that."

Jack Fontaine  CBE-177/"Anna"
Vodka and freedom. 

♡