makinglies | Entries tagged with au

Jet hated it when he wasn't taken on missions. It didn't happen often, but it drove him crazy when it did. He felt caged in the house on the beach and he couldn't even go flying because he needed to be near the transceiver if there was a problem. He was the cavalry in case what was a simple operation went wrong.

It was, admittedly, really stupid to be so worked up. He knew the more 'fragile' members of their team would be easily protected by the stronger ones and this wasn't an operation where they'd be facing magic, only military and bullets. The man he held the most concern for probably needed it the least since bullets would sting or chip at the most, but hardly cause much more damage than that. His partner was made of rock after all. At least, most of him was...not all of him and it was those few squishier spots left that made Jet fret.

He paced and preened and paced some more, his feathers getting disheveled in his anxious movements. It wasn't until Gilmore had snapped at him to stop fidgeting so much that Jet huffed and retreated into Albert's room. He knew he'd be called back if he was needed and at least this way he wasn't constantly orbiting the transceiver, waiting for it to click into life.

His brain had gone through twenty different possible scenarios from his perch on the edge of the window sill by the time Gilmore knocked and told him that the mission had gone well and everyone was on their way back with limited injuries. There was a knowing look in the old man's eye as he shut the door behind him that made Jet just want to scratch him...but he resisted. Albert would be back soon and Jet could check every inch of him over when he was.

In the meantime, he curled up on the pillows of their bed, wings tucked in around him, and dozed.

fallenstar

It had been a long day of classes and studying and preparations for final exams that were coming up over the next few weeks. Winter break was in the air and it was both exciting and stressful for students on the NYU campus. Thanks to his studies and preparations, as a matter of fact, he hadn't seen much of his partner all day. It was frustrating. But now he was on his way over to Albert's office where he knew the German would be settling in soon for his office hours.

Jet should probably leave him alone...but he'd gotten a thought into his head earlier in the day and he didn't want to wait to execute it.

The lanky teen was outside Albert's door in five minutes and the only reason he didn't barge in was the voice of a girl on the other side of the door. She was asking some question about some topic Albert had covered a few weeks ago, one that made Jet roll his eyes and tempt him to open the door and answer for her. It wasn't that hard. But he waited and Albert explained perfectly in that patient way he does, resulting in the girl thanking him and leaving the office.

Jet couldn't help but notice her cheeks were stained red as she left. A coil of possessive jealousy snaked itself in his chest, but he tried not to let it show as he walked into the office himself and shut the door. His backpack got slung in a corner as he folded himself onto the chair opposite the older man. his older man.

"She just asked that to have an excuse to come see you 'cause she's crushing on you hard." He was definitely trying his best to make it sound flippant.

badassbird

Jett finished tying the knot of the scarf around Albert's wrists, making certain the man wouldn't be able to budge them while she worked her magic.

Discovering there was some alternate universe where she and her lover were men instead of women was interesting to say the least and plenty awkward in Albert's presence. But uncertainty had turned a little more comfortable and then they were left in the house alone, Albert sitting in one of the chairs in the den and looking pretty good in his dress shirt and slacks. Good enough Jett decided she wanted to see what all of the differences were between this man and the woman she loved.

She already knew that--other than public disposition and the way they carried themselves when they thought they were alone--it wasn't all that different. For all intents and purposes, he was the person she loved, the outside package didn't matter.

Really, she was more of a lady's lady, but her Bertie was a sexy man and it wasn't like she was inexperienced. In fact, wooing men and bedding them had been part of her job in her gang, she was just doing the same thing here, with one large exception: she wanted to do this a hundred percent.

She moved to stand in front of him, admiring her handiwork with her hands on her hips. She was kind of glad she'd chosen to wear the too-short skirt Francoise had lent her along with the scoop-neck shirt she'd stolen from her alternate self (tied at her waist to shorten the tent that it was on her). It would make what she wanted to do easier.

She slunk over to her 'prisoner' and bent forward, bracing her hands on his knees.

"Comfortable?"

fallenstar

There were still dying ribbons of pink resting on the horizon when Jet settled in against the outside wall of the strip club. He could hear the bustle and voices of customers coming in for the night around the corner but didn't bother to look. He didn't care.

One, two, cigarettes and two other people stepped into the mouth of the alley. The shorter one turned to face the taller one and wrapped his arms behind their neck to pull the taller man into an intense kiss. They exchanged a few words, the shorter man kissed his friend again then saluted as he turned into the alley and walked up towards Jet.

The red head watched as the taller shadow seemed to hesitate a moment before finally leaving, then turned his attention to the man who'd settled in beside him with his own cig.

"Thought we agreed you weren't gonna hang around out here by yourself anymore."

Jet shrugged. "No one's really around yet. Besides, I got done with my stuff early and decided heading over was easier than hanging around."

Bucky didn't say anything to that, just gave a mildly irritated grunt and worked at the stick in his mouth instead. They were better at silence when it came to those heavier issues like why Jet wasn't supposed to hang around on his own.

Jet wasn't like Bucky, he didn't pack as much punch on his own, though he did have his height. Beyond that, Bucky had Steve who never failed to walk the brunette to and from work like an overprotective watchdog. Jet had been present for the arguments that had ensued about Bucky feeling like Steve didn't trust him to take care of himself, but those arguments had stopped after one night when a customer had gotten really handsy with Buck -more than any other customer before- and after the night when Bucky had found Jet behind the club after that one guy went too far.

That had been over a year ago and where Jet lacked a body-builder-esk boyfriend, he had his own methods of protection. It wasn't even really that he wanted a boyfriend like Steve, he had his classes and his job and plenty of things that made having a boyfriend difficult, but he'd be lying if he said the idea of having someone care that much about him didn't sound appealing.

Too bad he was a stripper and guys like Steve didn't come out of the woodwork very often.

"Come on, we should head in and get ready. You know Jackson hates it when we smell of smoke."

Jet nodded and stomped out the butt of the cig before leading the way through the back entrance and into the backrooms.

badassbird

It probably shouldn't have taken her as long to get the cake she wanted for dessert as it took her, but she'd decided to take the long way back to her apartment. She wasn't avoiding her apartment, far from it, she just enjoyed New York city in the fall.All the leaves were different colors and it was just chilly enough to need a jacket, but not so bad it made going outside difficult and early in the evening like this, people's days were winding down and they were in generally better spirits which made her people-watching more enjoyable.

But she didn't want to make the woman staying with her worry, so the teen didn't waste any more time once she'd gotten to her street. As soon as she stepped into the small apartment, the smells of dinner cooking assaulted her nose and she took a deep, appreciative, breath of it. She'd be the first to claim she was 'too wild to be tamed,' but this domestic stuff had its perks. And not just coming home to delicious smells.

Jett dropped the cake off on the table and dropped her jacket over the back of the couch as she looked into the kitchen. There, standing in front of the stove doing her thing was the older woman who managed to set Jett's blood on fire just by standing there.

She had on her usual concealing and modest clothing, but Jett could still see the shape of her hips and the curve of her shoulders that led to that sensitive neck of hers. It was a good thing Jett was hungry and didn't want dinner ruined, otherwise she might have jumped her partner right there. A part of her was still considering it.

She strode forward, boots clacking on the kitchen's tile as she crossed to the slightly shorter woman and wrapped long, bare arms around her waist, Jett's chin resting comfortably on Alberta's shoulder. "Mmm...looks good. Oh, the food does too."

baaarbie

It was one thing to 'know' you were still in peak condition and entirely different thing to have that knowledge tested. As far as Barbie was concerned, he'd passed with high scores.

The second that countdown had hit '0' and the bombs around the pedestals had deactivated, he found himself bolting from the starting line and straight for the cornucopia. The first thing his hand had found was a long, viscous looking blade and that was what he used to chop down anyone who tried to get between him and a pack of supplies and then again when he made for the tree line.

Despite the misgivings he'd developed over the years from his first time in the arena, he was remorseless in taking out anyone who made for him. His plan was to take them all out, but this wasn't the best tactical time to do that. 'The environment will do most of the heavy lifting and the less blood on my hands the better.'

He wasn't going to hold back--this time his competitors would be fine, a little traumatized but alive and well after their deaths--but he also didn't want to be a butcher. That wasn't him anymore.

So he headed East, hoping that would take him to a river or something before he maybe found himself a little cluster of rocks to lay in wait and set up traps. That was the plan, anyway, he had no doubt the gamemakers would do what they could to try and kill him. He wasn't supposed to come out of this alive, after all, the government was through with him. 'Works for me. Luckily, the government never does anything right.'

He'd win this and then he'd disappear and not even damn President Snow and his Peacekeepers would be able to find him.

metalicarus

"We appreciate your hard work. We have one last mission for you."

The words rang through his mind and made him burn with anger and betrayal. He tried to make his body move, to force it to get up and fight back, to stop the Lazarus from doing whatever it was about to do as it approached, but he couldn't move except to squirm and flinch.

The zombie cyborg knelt down beside him and put a hand on his head, tilting it back to expose his neck as something bit into the human skin there. He watched as Void left the room, unconcerned with what was going on behind him and Jet's thoughts slowly slipped away. Then there was something else in his head. A voice was whispering to him, a familiar voice..someone he could trust; there was nothing but that voice and it's reminder how there was someone who betrayed him...no, multiple someones, people he'd trusted and thought wanted him around but were just using him, he needed to get back at them.

Istanbul. That was where they were.

'Go! Go! Traitors don't deserve to live anyway.' It whispered and he listened. His jets burned hot as they propelled him into the sky, indiscriminate of the building around him, it didn't matter, there was no time to waste.

He flew as fast as he could for the Gilmore Foundation.

jungfuchs

Moving to a new country is difficult but if you're a child it seems impossible. True, things had been terrifying with the bombings and soldiers and the news of that their government had been doing behind the country's back. Thirteen years old, but Albert still reads the news, still listens to the radio. Soon after they're on a boat, crammed in with other emigrants chattering in a cacophony of languages, pushing and shoving. There were other children, but mostly Albert opted to keep to himself, helping his mother but otherwise holed up in their tiny shared cabin and waited to see the spines of Lady Liberty's crown welcoming them to what his mother calls "a land of new opportunities". Albert, always a practical child, just hoped it would be a land of fresher air.

It's been a few months since then. They'd arrived at the start of summer with New York City sweltering. With his mother working two jobs and a little saved up, they'd managed to get a small fan and some other things for the little apartment, but despite the hardships they'd managed to make a nice little life for themselves in this new country. Their community on the lower east side is friendly and breathes of home in Dresden, or so Albert feels. He even made friends with the old man who runs the bookshop on the corner, his son having been claimed by the war on the side of the Allies. He'd also been named Albert, and the man would often reminisce in German and sometimes share the haribo candies he'd always have around. He may be the only friend Albert had made, but he was content with that.

Even so, as the weather turned colder and fall set in, Albert's mother enrolled him in school. Albert had always liked school back home, strict as it was, but here in America it seemed all the other boys were so loud and tall and frightening. He'd mostly stayed away from other children since arriving, but now he's been thrown in the front of a class and as the teacher pushes him to introduce himself to the room every eye is on him and he can't help but fidgit and look anywhere except at all the unfamiliar faces.

"Ha-hallo, I-I am Albert Heinrich..." He trails off, brutally self conscious at his accent and flushing a red which he knows reaches his ears. The teacher - Miss Jones - waits for an interminable moment to see if he'll say something else, then simply shoos him to an empty desk with some annoyance and begins to write the day's lesson on the blackboard. Safe for the moment, Albert sinks as low as he can in his seat and pulls his oversized newsy cap down around his ears in an attempt to hide the fact that they're still pink.

copesetic

They had failed.

Albert could still hear the sickening thud ringing in his ears as Skull had dropped Joe's battered form at Gilmore's feet, a message to them all. Each cyborg watched helplessly, the electromagnet keeping them from action as Skull taunted them all with promises of being broken, of torture and death, even of erasing their memories.

At least they wouldn't have to live with this, if that were the case.

The soldiers were careful to keep the magnet close as the cyborgs were lead to what little of the compound remained. A secondary system, with its own power and facilities and everything else. The original had at least been severely damaged through the actions of the cyborgs but it hadn't done any good. None of it had done any good.

They were transferred to cells, two to each, though Gilmore and 001 were taken elsewhere. Precautions were taken, each cyborg being bound, relieved of weapons, or otherwise rendered unable to use their skills. Albert in particular was divested of his hand - the left, not the right - so as to be unable to use his knife. For the rest they simply took his ammunition. For Jet they surgically severed the fuel line, rendering his rockets unusable. Chang's fuel was also cut, GB was set with a restraint that prevented his shifting, and Junior they simply sedated, his strength too much to keep caged.

When they'd advanced on Francoise with a specialized mask to dampen her abilities, something snapped. She'd been crying quietly to herself since Joe's body was dragged from their presence, but the tears had turned to cold fury and she'd lunged at the nearest guard, gouging his eyes out with her nails and leaving wicked gashes across him and two others as she struggled wildly. They'd shot and killed her, like a rabid animal.

And now here they were, each imprisoned with no means of escape, two to a cell with the promise of retribution for their insolence hanging over their heads. Albert, for his part, seems to have gone mute. He sits in the corner of the cell he shares with Jet holding the stump of his removed hand and staring at the wall. It's a familiar state, an utterly passive demeanor as he had displayed originally, decades ago when he'd first been taken.

They'd failed. He'd failed. Joe was dead. Francoise was dead. Ivan and Gilmore are likely to follow, as will the rest of them if they're not stripped of what little humanity they have left and made as automatons to serve Black Ghost. What's the point in fighting anymore?

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Making Lies

January 2026

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Making Lies

Entries tagged with au

Chimera 009

The secrets you keep

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

Pretty Woman

Getting handsy in the kitchen

It's all downhill from here

Til the siren come calling

There are no cats in America

The bitter end