![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Mutants Among Us: save yourself from the lies of the beautiful people
 Evolution strives. For thousands of years, humans, homo sapien sapiens have been the King of Beasts on Earth. However, shortly after the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, the public became aware of a new kind of species: homo sapien dominus - the Mutants. Mutants are born the same as any other human, usually with no discernable differences. However, come the age of puberty, their genetic mutation becomes pronounced. This grants them one or several abilities, some more extreme than others. It may alter their form. Unfortunately, these powers rarely present themselves in a form that can be controlled without careful honing. Governments everywhere quarreled over the issue of mutant rights. Were they still considered humans? Should there be a demand that they be registered? One thing was certain: mutants held within them the potential to be very dangerous. Whether or not they would excise their powers responsibly, there was still the possibility of them challenging the system upon which humanity had so carefully (and sometimes shakily) regulated. While politics rage, mutants themselves seek a way to survive within society. INSTRUCTIONS; 1.] Post with your character name, canon, etc, in the title. As a change-up, list whether or not they are a MUTANT or HUMAN as well. If this point can be conditional, please simply put "Either". ( Character Name | Fandom | (Mutant, Human, Either) | (POWER if Mutant) | (Interation Preffs) ) 2.] If you wish, include in your post the explanation/extent of powers, faction preferences, (if human) opinion on mutants, universe preferences, etc. 3.] You may choose to write up a scenario if you already have one in mind, but it isn't required. If you DO write up a scenario, and are open to playing out a different one for those tagging in, please include a star (*) in your title. 4.] Go forth and tag others! There are FOUR sections you can take advantage of while rolling for prompts: 1) Human or Mutant; 2) Timeframe (with AU scenarios); 3) Faction Scenarios (Mutant and Human); 4) Mixed Scenarios (Mutant to/vs Human) 5.] Some of these prompts, especially concerning cross-faction things, may require OOC discussion beforehand. DO NOT BE AFRAID to talk it out with your potential partner before starting a scene! Pre-plotting is so very encouraged, although not necessary! 6.] Please note that you are required to roll for nothing. Prompts are only available for fun/the indecisive. Obviously play fair and have fun! Resources & Disclaimer RNG Random Superpower Generator #1 - Gives several powers with a push of a button! Keep hitting it until you like it! Random Power Generator #2 - Allows for multiple powers AND gives weaknesses! Super Power Wiki - Explains various superpowers. There is also a 'random page' option for those who want to randomize their powers that way! Disclaimer: This meme is LOOSELY based on the events of the X-Men film series. If you play a muse from this fandom and/or the comics universe, please note discrepancies you find relevant. You are not required to stick to anything here; the intent of this meme is only to offer the general flavor of this universe to a wider audience. Briefly, here's how to work this thing for the COMPLETELY INDECISIVE. First, roll for Mutant or Human: ~ Mutant -> Roll Timefame -> Roll Mutant Faction -> (If Mutant/Mutant) Roll Faction Scenario ; (If Mutant/Human) Roll Mixed Scenario ~ Human -> Roll Timeframe -> Roll Human Faction -> (If Human/Human) Roll Faction Scenario; (If Mutant/Human) Roll Mixed Scenario SPECIES (1-2) 1.) Mutant. You are a member of the human race which has a mutated gene. That gene grants you a power and/or change of appearance, however great or small. 2.) Human. You are a normal human (or maybe you're a bit abnormal, but your abnormality does not put you in the class of mutant that we're talking about) living in a world where people with seemingly supernatural abilities exist. Timeframe (1-10) 1.) Mutants Exist But are Unknown. Any time pre-1960's. Ancient Greece? World War I or II? Mutants exist, but they are unknown for what they truly are: a genetic evolution. Possibly their powers have registered them among the people as a god... or a witch. 2.) 1962: Mutants are Discovered. The Cuban Missile Crisis ended with a shocking display. A submarine was raised from the depths of the ocean. Russians and Americans, previously on the brink of nuclear war, look on in horror as fighting erupts on the nearby island, among jet and submarine wreckage. Turning their sights upon the unknown threat, the war ends as the US and Soviets come to the agreement to annihilate it together. Their missiles are returned to the sea. Foreign leaders everywhere announce the ceasefire... and divulge the presence of superhumans among the public. So far, it is unknown how they will be treated, but families are advised to note the presence of these people to their local governments. 3.) 1960's: Post-Cuba. Both the Xavier Institute for the Gifted and The Brotherhood of Mutants are in their developmental stages and recruiting for their differing goals. Local factions are erected in the community to support and/or teach their own mutants. Political debates wage and parents are finally aware of what the strange nature of their children means, meeting the knowledge with degrees of hostility or wariness both. For now, most governments HIGHLY ADVISE mutant registration, but it is not law. Mutants are still allowed in public schools at discretion, due to the nature their powers may grant them. 4.) 1970-1990's. Same as the above, only with the considerations of advancement in technology and other historical feats (some now mutant-flavored?). Mutants gain representation within the government. Several mutant extremists perform acts against the governments. 5.) 2006: The Cure. Using a gene from a mutant with the power to surpress all other mutant abilities, a "cure" was manufactured for those mutants who wished to become normal human beings. And it works - it reverts mutants, however extreme, into humans. This cure begins as a voluntary offering to mutantkind, but with a resulting uproar and attack on the Alcatraz research facility, began being used as a punishment by the government against mutants who used violent force. (Note: These events taken from X-Men: The Last Stand) 6.) 2006-2020: War. The Cure spurns and outright war between humans and radical mutants. Mutants become a force to be feared, reviled, and regulated among humans. They are forced to pick sides by either registering with the local government or joining a mutant resistance cause. Great chaos reigns. It is discovered that the cure varies on how long it lasts. (Note: The end results of X-Men: The Last Stand may be enforced or not.) 7.) 2020: Mutant Subjugation. The Mutant Brotherhood and the X-Men both are crippled by the losses of its leaders to the point where humans have overwhelmed the mutants. Mutants are now considered sub-class and are allowed to live only in specific districts, usually separated from humans. They are used only for certain jobs or weapons within the military and are regulated with the use of a special device (collars, bracelets, chips, w/e suits you) and are generally marked in some way (again, tattoos, chips, w/e). Humans are allowed to treat mutants as lesser creatures, such as pets or slaves, though this is not mandatory, and killing mutants is illegal outside of acts of self-defense or government action Human/Mutant marriage is not allowed, and technically neither is romantic relations, though the latter is more a taboo than an actual law. Mutant children are separated from their parents if no mutant is present within it and given to a foster family. A Permanent Cure is manufactured. Resistance/Criminality is met with the stripping of powers via the cure to acts of execution. It is illegal to hold meetings between mutants over a certain number. Still... a resistance broils. 8.) 2020: Mutualism. The war ends with a treaty being made between mutants and humans. Mutants are granted equal rights as humans, with special regulations inflicted upon them so that they do not infringe an advantage over the humans. Punishments include misdemeanor fees, imprisonment, basically the same as what humans can expect from law enforcement, with the notable twist that lesser sentence may be given if the mutant forfeits their powers via the cure. Depending on criminal history extent, the cure may be enforced anyway, though this is seen as the highest form of punishment. Human/Mutant marriage and Mutant/Mutant marriage is allowed. Registration is encouraged, but not enforced unless joining the military. Peace and co-existence. 9.) 2020: Human Subjugation. The war ends with The Mutant Brotherhood and other pro-mutant causes like it overpowering the humans. This is the reverse of 'Mutant Subjugation', where humans are the ones separated from major society into their own homeland. They are allowed to more freely mingle with the mutant community for working purposes, but they live separately in certain districts and are visibly marked for what they are in some way. Mutants are allowed to treat humans as lesser creatures, such as pets or slaves, though this is not mandatory, and killing humans is illegal outside of acts of self-defense or government action. Human/Mutant marriage is not allowed, and technically neither is romantic relations, though the latter is more a taboo than an actual law. Mutant children are separated from their parents if no mutant is present within it and given to a foster family. The Cure is the major punishment to mutants who betray their own kind or have proved themselves too irresponsible, though it may vary in the less potent cure (1-5 years powerless) to Permanent (fully human forever). 10.) Age of Apocalypse. A being called Apocalypse has arrived and has turned most of the Earth to wasteland, or is in the process of doing so. Humans and mutants band together to try to combat this powerful enemy and protect each other, constructing new communities/civilizations for themselves and trying to rebuild their razed planet. Consider this sort of like an Old West/Post-Apocalypse scenario in that there is not a lot of technology to be had and bandits/outlaws/gunslingers/arms-dealers/bounty-hunters are everywhere. MUTANT FACTIONS (1-5) 1.) Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted. Ages 10-18 Students. This is a school converted from an enormous mansion in Westchester, NY, originally a family estate of Charles Xavier (AKA Professor X). Professor X is a powerful telepath who can locate mutants all over the world. He, or his agents (the X-Men) come to mutant children to offer them a place of acceptance and a chance to learn how to control their powers. The goal of the school is the following: teach rudimentary academics that would be offered in public schooling, teach mutant children how to control their powers (as opposed to letting their powers control THEM) in a safe environment, and teach the morality/responsibility that comes with being a mutant. Special care has been made to keep the school's true purpose a secret: the government and most parents simply think they've sent their child to boarding/prep school. 2.) Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants. Ages 14-18 for TRAINING/RECRUITMENT ONLY. Missions at discretion, but usually 18+ for operatives. The Brotherhood was founded and is headed by a powerful, magnokinetic mutant called Magneto and a handful of like-minded mutants. Mutants of the Brotherhood believe themselves to be the superior species over the humans, but their acts change over time. They are the major extremist faction of the mutant world. The main goal of The Brotherhood is to teach mutants to defend themselves against humans, and prepare for the very likely possibility of war. However, their actions and missions have ranged between espionage (getting into the government and other places for spying) to extreme acts (like trying to convert a congregation of leaders into mutants - at the cost of a mutant life and not knowing that the process would actually kill the aforementioned humans). The Brotherhood recruits from the world (with less accuracy than Xavier, usually collecting imprisoned mutants) as well as the Xavier Institute through covert methods. So it's very possible you can be working with The Brotherhood while going to school... but you're not allowed to announce it (for fear of expulsion) or go on missions until you're deemed to have the proper proficiency. The Brotherhood is starkly against harming other mutants unless in the case of self-defense or the sake of a mission, but the killing of humans is less frowned upon. Operatives of The Brotherhood adopt a Mutant Name (ex: Magneto, Mystique, Pyro) in order to separate them from humankind (their "slave name"; ex: Raven Darkholme). They have several bases all over the world, usually in abandoned facilities, caves, etc. 3.) The X-Men. 18+ Operatives, with discretion. The X-Men are Prof. X's special team of mutants (most commonly his students) who are a force of justice for the world. They use their powers to settle conflicts or combat against extremist mutant attacks. The Brotherhood is their notable enemy, but they have a no-killing policy (save for extreme circumstances). 4.) Local Faction/Government. A mutant community that has been made in your local area. They may be activists, teachers, or simply a support group. Politics vary here. Make your own little gangs! More rarely, you could actually be in the government to act as a mutant representative in some capacity. 5.) Unaffiliated. Maybe you're a lone wolf with no plans to join any political agenda. Maybe you just have a small cluster of friends to fall back on. You're lead by no one, and culpable to no one but yourself and your local government. Or you could be a criminal, or a lone activist. The choice is up to you! HUMAN FACTIONS (1-5) 1.) Government. You work for your local or federal or national government. Your political views of mutants may vary, but you follow the law (or maybe you enforce your own law within them, Kojack...?). 2.) Anti-Mutant. Mutants are an abomination. Or they're too dangerous not to be controlled. You want to enforce a lot of regulations on mutants to protect humans. Your activism may vary. 3.) Pro-Mutualism. You believe in equality between mutants and humans, and want to work together with them. Or maybe you would rather a separate but equal sort of deal? 4.) Pro-Mutant. You see mutants as the future. You may want to help mutants get their rights. You might wish to find a way to be a mutant yourself. Most extremely, maybe you see mutants as your rightful lords and masters, the inheritors of the Earth? Your activism may vary. 5.) Unaffiliated/Student. You really just don't care about the politics, or not enough to get involved in groups. All you care about is the rights/safety of yourself and your loved ones. (Note: You can be a student with any of the above political views too.) MUTANT FACTION SCENARIOS (1-10) 1.) Discussion. Probably having to do with morality of mutants, politics, etc. You are having a talk about your views, whatever they may be. This may be a class thing, a way to pass the time, a debate, a getting to know you, etc. 2.) Training/Class. Simply to learn how to control your powers or in preparation for a mission. Maybe you're sparring? Or maybe one of you is the teacher and the other the student? Maybe you're both in a class together? This is the time to learn. 3.) Downtime. Just hanging out with the other person, meeting them for the first time, between classes, etc. This is a time for simple interaction... or maybe a date night? You're simply doing something in the company of one another, apart from political agendas. 4.) Into the City/Travel. You go out together or meet in a place intermingled with humans. Do you bond or hate each other? Will you be recognized as mutants by the humans or blend in seamlessly? Or maybe this is a place you've never visited before. How do you feel about it? 5.) Persecution. In some way, you've been facing negative responses. From your parents? Human strangers? Bullying from humans or your own kind? You're being punished in some way for being simply what you are. How do you take it? 6.) Mission. You've been given a mission and the two of you are working together in some way (or even fighting against each other). 7.) Faction Meeting. You're both in a faction meeting, listening to the leader and talking quietly amongst yourself, dealing with it in your own manner. There may be a break for a discussion or administering chores/missions, etc. 8.) Partnered. For whatever reason, the two of you have been partnered. Maybe it's as simple as getting a roommate, or maybe it's for an upcoming mission. This can be in the beginning stages or later on. 9.) Initiation/Recruitment. One or both of you are being asked to join a faction by its operatives (maybe one of you is the recruiter). Or you're entering into a faction and need to prove your worth in some way in order to join. 10.) Wildcard. Roll for the above prompts, a mixture, or make up your own! HUMAN FACTION SCENARIOS (1-10) 1.) Discussion. Probably having to do with morality of mutants, politics, etc. You are having a talk about your views, whatever they may be. This may be a class thing, a way to pass the time, a debate, a getting to know you, etc. 2.) Training. If you're within a faction that uses force, you're training your physical or mental properties. Could be school. Could be prep for a rights debate. 3.) Downtime. Just hanging out with the other person, meeting them for the first time, between classes, etc. This is a time for simple interaction... or maybe a date night? You're simply doing something in the company of one another, apart from political agendas. 4.) Into the City/Travel. You're going out together. Interacting with mutants is a high possibility. What will you do together? What will you see? 5.) Persecution/Attack. In some way, you've been facing negative responses. Bullying from mutants or your own kind? You're being punished in some way for being simply what you are. Are you in the middle of an extremist attack together? How do you both take it? 6.) Mission. You've been given a mission and the two of you are working together in some way (or even fighting against each other). 7.) Faction Meeting. You're both in a faction meeting or convention, listening to the leader/speaker and talking quietly amongst yourself, dealing with it in your own manner. There may be a break for a discussion or administering chores/missions, etc. 8.) Partnered. For whatever reason, the two of you have been partnered. Maybe it's as simple as getting a roommate, or maybe it's for an upcoming mission. This can be in the beginning stages or later on. 9.) Initiation. One or both of you are being asked to join a faction by its operatives (maybe one of you is the recruiter). Or you're entering into a faction and need to prove your worth in some way in order to join. 10.) Wildcard. Roll for the above prompts, a mixture, or make up your own! MIXED SCENARIOS (1-10) 1.) Discovery. One of you just found out the other one is a mutant, on purpose or accident. Maybe it's a sort of 'coming-out' you didn't quite expect? Or did you? You've probably known this person for a little while. How do you react? 2.) Manifestation. One (or both) of you come into your mutant powers and pays witness to the other. Is it a traumatic show or a LOOK WHAT I TOTALLY JUST DID, IT'S REALLY COOL DOOD trick? Usually mutant powers show up at puberty, but it can be earlier or later, too. How do you take this? Are you okay, or are your parents going to kill you? 3.) Show of Power. The mutant is showing their power, either for good, evil, or on accident. Maybe they're just showing off? Do they mean to intimidate? Conversely, the human could be brandishing a weapon, threatening to get the authorities, a capability that they've learned, etc. Is this a pissing contest or something fun/interesting? 4.) Conversation. You're chatting each other up and getting to know one another. What do you personally think of this issue? What's your power like? Do you ever feel like...? Or this could be an argument of views. 5.) Conflict/Competition. You've gotten into a fight or are in competition for something, depending on how friendly you do or don't want this to be. Are you keeping it to an equal level, or is the mutant using their power to get ahead. Is that really considered cheating if they were born this way? 6.) Work Together and/or Play Together. For whatever reason, you're working together. Maybe you actually work together in a corporate fashion, or have decided to work together for some common goal. Maybe you're at a recreational event (convention, dancing, bar, etc) and really hit it off? Whether or not it's divulged that one of you are mutants is up to you. 7.) Distress. Something has happened that has distressed one or both of you. Maybe you've been hurt, maybe you're under duress. Maybe one or both of you have been trapped. Do you help each other, do you make it worse, or are you the cause? Depression - is one of you a therapist here? 8.) Friends OR (Forbidden/Taboo) Lovers. You're friends, either old or new, or you've decided to date/become lovers for better or worse. While Human/Mutant friendships are acceptable and not TOO strange (depending on your timeline), actual romantic relationships DO tend to seem taboo or gross to either side (mostly humans). Hang out together, go on dates, do the do if it pleases you... Explore how you feel when challenged by the world. Or maybe you've been living under the lie that you're both human... 9.) Persecution. Either one of you is bullying the other, or one or both of you are paying witness to this sort of thing. Prejudice, even in paradise, can still exist. 10.) Wild Card. meme by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small} terrabelle feedback highly wanted here |
but first time actually rping! it's perfect and I love it. setting this QoS AU due to desert
It had gotten ugly, in the end. The hotel ablaze, most dead or dying, and Bond can't leave the girl behind. She's afraid of fire - he'd left her to burn in the pyre of her family's remains. He wants her to live. So he finds her, and the rubble falls. Bond says to hell with his clothing, because they're not dying this way, she's not dying this way, consumed by the flames of her nightmares that came full-circle. He bashes out a path and they run until they can blast their way out.
She's safe. In an act that might seem cold and cruel, Bond lets Camille slide free of his arm and onto her knees in the sand while she looks up at the sky, face tear-stained for the smoke and drinking the air. Then again, one look at Camille reveals bruises and scrapes and maybe a tint here and their to her already-glowing skin, and tell that she got out easy. James Bond, hired spy and killer, with no scars or distinguishing marks previously on his record, is a goddamn mess. The majority of his face is covered in char and there's a stark white glint around his eye -bone, his cheekbone has been exposed- in the desert sun. His clothes are scorched in a way that looks as if they've been infected with a plague of locusts, blackened in streaks where his body (notably, one of his arms is exposed and burnt in shades of all the degrees) has impacted upon smoldering barriers. No, a discerning eye and mind would not dare to say that his leaving Cami in this moment is an act of callousness.
Cami is safe and Cami is strong. It's another woman that Bond's worried about now, and all he needs to do is follow the trail of destruction to find out whether or not she's had as interesting a time as he has.
In the distance, Dominic Greene is scurrying away. Bond's not worried - he knows where the only cover is here, and, unlike Greene, he's got use of a vehicle by claiming these burning ruins.
When he finds her, Romanov is coughing up a putrid liquid that's all too familiar (but reminds him of oil - oil would be perfect...). ]
Hairball, dear?
[ It comes out as more of a croak than what he'd have wanted, but his lungs and his windpipe are rather seared. That'll be one of the first things patched, and he'll be spitting like Natasha rather soon. Even as he comes to stand by her, eying the wreckage for any signs of survivors, the lowermost layers of his skin have begun to grown back, making holes of wet and red on him. He's a steak that was cooked too quick on the outside, but is still very rare on the inside. James will have to shave his hair quite close to the scalp, once he has a chance, because that doesn't lengthen very far when damaged, but he'll be fully healed within the hour.
Nothing too major. ]
:')
She's a little better off than he is — her clothes seem, for the most part, to be intact, and though her burns are deep most of the damage is internal — smoke inhalation and the lungs and the lack of oxygen to her brain, rather than the actual heat of the explosion. A handful of minutes pass before Natasha wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, streaking something dark-brown across her mouth and down her jaw. She stands easily, moves easily — break enough bones and lose enough blood and, over the years, there almost is no refractory period. ]
You look terrible. [ She says it dryly, in a way that's classic Natasha as she easily slips into the passenger seat. It is, to her credit, somewhat impossible to tell whether it's an observation or a joke. ]
no subject
[ The returning quip is smooth in the way smoke looks, though soon after, he gives in to a wheeze as his body shake. Her comment about him looking terrible turns that into laughter, half-crazed and crackling and so viciously triumphant. Oh, whoever said revenge wasn't satisfying, or was best served cold, was lying, or else they'd never seen one like this.
Fields and Mathis are avenged. Quantum is burning from the inside out. It's glorious and he knows it shouldn't be, but satisfaction on this level is so very rare for him. God, after Greene, though, he'll have to be done with it. He's got far too many addictions as it is... Or. Maybe just one more. Just one more. ]
You don't think I look hot?
[ Horrible puns and double entendres - did you miss him, Natasha?
He whips his head away to spit what looks like smoker's tar (puss, really) on the sand. If Natasha wasn't a lady about hers, he's not going to be a gentleman either. He waves into the general area where he left his... colleague of a sort (so strange, he hasn't shagged her yet, and really doesn't feel the need to)... while he does. Cami makes her way over, stilted and shaky but strong. ]
You never did tell me what you joined us for. Did we get it done for you?
no subject
It's not hard to understand James Bond if you bleed enough.) ]
Almost, [ is the only stilted answer she gives. (Paranoia, especially after the Cold War, is a deep seated thing — her reply might be more obliging if it was just them in the car.) She rolls her shoulders and there's a muted crack, like something's sliding back into place. ] I'll find out when I get to Beijing.
no subject
He hears and understands the distance, can recognize the underlying paranoia. It's not unfounded, but it is unnecessary, at least in this instance. ]
Ah yes, Quantum, sticking their thumbs in all the pies. I think you might find this ends in your favor after all.
[ Cough cough cough. ]
Cami, what's in Beijing?
[ Handy girl, isn't she? It only takes her a moment to think, and no hesitance to say what she knows. While she was a part of the operation by association, it was only a way to further her own means. Bond's got to admire a girl like that; Natasha should too.
He opens the back door for Camille, tossing a seemingly useless can into the trunk simultaneously. After helping the woman in like a proper gentleman, he takes his seat at shotgun. His skin cracks and crackles like aged paper. Crispy. Overdone. ]
But before you head for the airport, a few quick pit-stops? Feel like I've got a frog in my throat.
[ He points out the windshield, in the direction he saw their friend, Mr. Greene, disappear into the desert. ]
no subject
Admire, maybe, but respect is better. Respect is tangible, respect lets ease settle into her shoulders as she starts the car, respect is a step behind the most tangible thing of all: loyalty. Later, Natasha will check the information, but with only a passing kind of interest — maybe Camille looks how old she is, unlike the other two in the shoddy jeep, but like attracts like. Isn't that the phrase? (Mongrels, survivors, people who don't stay lying down.)
A hand cupped around her eyes, Natasha blinks into the direction Bond gestures, a light shrug as she tips her chin and drives. ]
I hate loose ends.
no subject
But Bond's focus isn't on his feelings now; it's on the job. The loose end is Greene, who he's got questions for. He'll allow Natasha to join him in the interrogation if she wants (maybe it can help her too, he doesn't feel greedy), but he won't invite her.
It doesn't take long to get to Greene, and it doesn't take long to get answers. Bond comes out of the truck like a violent reminder of the man's sins ("Unlock the boot," to Natasha as he gets out), ragged, burnt, and bloody; eyes beaming like the light off a glacier.
Camille stays, but she watches in silence. She takes pleasure in seeing the man who betrayed her, and tried to have her killed several times over, being beaten by her charred savior. Bond takes pleasure in it too. He's never considered himself a sadist, but he enjoys what he does while it lasts, takes the scream of burnt nerve endings as the collateral for being a bad man (working for a good cause).
In the end, it's a single can of motor oil for Greene and a farewell, trunk shut and back in the car. ]
That way.
[ To the farewell he doesn't want to give. ]
no subject
Natasha Romanoff has lived a long time. Back then, when she was Natalia, her and Bond had been on other sides of that fence — the first time she'd seen his work, it was on a dead corpse of one of her 'sisters'. Now, the way he rips Greene apart — it's the kind of cruel, calculated efficiency that Natasha could call beautiful, if she let herself. Not for the first time, she wonders what it would be like to sleep with him — whether he lets himself unravel as fast as he ruins, leaving nothing but bonemeal and dust.
When it's over and done and it's dead man's oil that's sludge inside his own lungs, Natasha blinks slowly, letting her eyes fall first on Camille, then Bond. It's the kind of long, assessing look that's hard to figure out, but whatever she's searching for she must find because then the jeep guns into life again, driving over dunes and plains of sand, hot desert air rolling past the windows.
(She wonders if he's slept with Camille, too.)
In the reflection of the rear view mirror, a grey-blue bruise on Natasha's cheek turns from purple to yellow back to pink again. ]
no subject
If only Natasha knew how Matthis had died in his arms, begging him to stay so he wouldn't die alone. A Brutus, turned Brother, only to perish because his body was unwillingly between Bond and the gunfire (it wouldn't have hurt if it'd been him, such a waste), leaving Bond no choice but to dump his fallen comrade in a skip (is that how you treat your friends?). She could have seen the remainders of the police chief in a different light.
If Natasha had known, she'd have smiled wider, perhaps even laughed for once, however bitter the aftertaste.
But she doesn't know, and Bond won't tell her (but maybe she'll understand anyway). He takes his satisfaction; bloody, burning satisfaction, worth the weight in brimstone they'll pour over him in Hell.
They arrive in a small town, at a motel where Bond and Cami get out of the car together and walk a small ways down the dusty path. They talk a moment (not near long enough), and then it's James who starts forward, suddenly desperate, his icey front splintering as he kisses her with his fire-broiled, sensitive lips. It hurts. And it's awkward, eyes shut, a first time (as well as the last), lingers only a moment before Cami steps away and seems to force herself toward that motel. Back turned to the truck, Bond watches her go, hands hanging inert at his sides, shoulders millimeters lower than his usual stance. Cami knows what he is, what would happen to her in the end. And he'll always remind her of the time he granted her the ability to exact her wrath (it changes you, changes how you look at yourself once you've done it: taken a life - you accept it or you can't), kisses her with the smoke of a past she's leaving behind, for the better. Bond wishes her the very best, truly, and knows that can't involve him.
He returns to the truck. Each step is a reconstructing process. His face is still a mess and indecipherable, but his eyes... they've melted and gone distant when he starts that journey back. When he opens the door to get in, they've refrozen. ]
I wonder if the towers can play music out this far.
[ It didn't happen. It was nothing. Don't you dare try and talk about it, Natasha...
Bond practically sprawls in his seat, using a hand to almost lazily itch at his face. The charred skin flakes like ashes over the tattered remains of his shirt and the interior of the vehicle, giving way to fresh, pink skin. The phoenix, that's what he is, and this is just resurrection.
It's just the two of them now in the car. Two nigh-unkillable killers, the products of their own mistakes. Maybe that's why they were given the ability to regenerate: they were destined, from the womb, to hurt themselves. ]
no subject
It comes off him in waves and she knows him well enough, by now, to pick up on it. Natasha looks at him for a long moment, down the line of his nose and the pink-red sheen of his cheek to the set of his eyes, determined and steel and chrome, like he hasn't just given away a part of himself so a girl can live her life rather than drown in it. Some in-depth part of her, a remnant from the old days, tells her that this makes him weak and foolish. She doesn't think that anymore.
So instead, Natasha eventually turns the key and starts driving again, down dirt roads and long, empty highways, all dust and sand and a slowly setting sun. It's miles and miles later, when they're nearing main roads (likely Natasha's intent to find somewhere to spend the night, to regroup) and the radio flips between bursts of static and smooth violin strings, that she says anything at all. ]
You've grown a lot kinder, James.
[ No pointed use of Bond, no agent, no 007. Natasha's not the friendly sort. But he is, in a lot of ways, her oldest friend. ]
no subject
Today, he learns that if death and destruction are your companions, you let free the ones you want to live. If there's no hope of saving you, don't cling to the one who actually stands a chance of crawling out of the pit. Christ. When did he become so bloody selfless? Because the last time he looked at himself, he was the most self-serving bastard he'd ever known. This is incredibly inconvenient for him.
Bond's thankful for the silence that reigns for a while. He uses it to let his mind wander, albeit not very far, and to rest leaning against the door. Both the work he's done today, on top of the lack of sleep he's gotten, on top of the tax his regeneration can take on him, have made him very drowsy. It's a poor idea, but he's spaced out, staring into the depths of the wasteland, when a static lullaby crackles onto the radio. By then, there's probably a lot more skin he can flake off, but the agent honestly can't be bothered to move. His limbs feel heavy.
When Natasha speaks, he's even begun to doze a little. Maybe he trusts her not to kill him. Maybe he just wouldn't care if she did.
His eyelids, new skin under charcoal smears, shift with the movements of the eyeballs beneath, then blink slowly as the brain translates the same message several times over. Then his eyes open to look at her without so much as a twitch from any other part of his body, pale and distinctive but dulled, like a mirror that's been smeared by humans hands, traces of oil and little fingerprints on the surface.
Is it kindness? Sometimes, Natasha, he just feels tired. And it's not just Camille, it's not even Vesper, it's everything. Sometimes, quite without his permission, Bond looks at himself and sees how very much has been taken away from him, and he feels it. He feels like a tooth drilled free of a massive cavity, just this gaping hole inside of something so sturdy, waiting to be refilled with the inorganic, stronger ceramic. It'd be better, you'd think, once he was more that then human bone. But the truth was fillings were sensitive to extremes: fire, ice, and sugar. No, what James needed in those moments was either a root canal (remove the nerve) or to be pulled entirely. Maybe that's age, maybe it's not. All he knows is that, hard as he knows it is, he wants to die in action and just be done with it all. He doesn't want to linger. Put him in the skip.
Those feelings don't last (thank god). One thing he learned long ago that holds true now: leave the past behind as soon as it becomes the past.
He needs a drink. ]
Pot, kettle, Nattie.
[ Because he does remember you, Natasha. And there's a whole lot more implication, a whole lot more ridicule, you could have put into the statement. Sometimes the absence of malice goes farther than any tender tone.
His eyes shut. ]
Just drop me off at the next place that has a pub in sight and looks like it might have a shower, will you?
no subject
Sooner or later, it catches up with you.
Those things they say: you lie in the bed you've made, you sleep in the grave you've dug. None of it means a thing when you outlive almost everybody, and not just because of warped genetics — because you're cruel and callous and selfish. Natasha recognizes that same, humming live-wire, and they've never talked about it (after a while, it's better to talk around some things than address them) but Natasha knows. Kindness means sentiment. Kindness means carving room in the cavity of your chest, just enough for another person to fit. Kindness means that bone-deep exhaustion that's hard to shake.
(Natasha would hit him, if he ever voiced it. Wouldn't stop until there was red between the dips of her knuckles. It's easy enough to read on set of his face but so much different when it's said in the air, given breath and awarded life. She'd sooner hurt him than let him wither and die but the fact is, she'd likely put in the bullet herself.) ]
You look terrible, [ she says mildly, a pair of knock-off sunglasses from a gas station a while back perched on her nose. She's healed enough that the attendant hadn't given her too long a look. ] I have a hotel room until tomorrow evening. You can stay there.
[ It's not an invitation so much it is an announcement. ]
no subject
The truth is, Bond doesn't like the killing. It's a necessity, just a means to an end. Occasionally, he takes a certain sort of pleasure out of it, but mostly it's just like putting down dogs. He's not without emotion (and sometimes he even admits it to himself), but he needs to be, so he is. Mostly. And every times he fails in that, another little piece of him is scraped away from his core.
Happily, for Natasha, it's not something he's open to discussing, so she can save her fists for another worthy pummeling. With their sort of lifespan (hers lasts a little longer than his), he's due to give her a good enough reason for it sooner or later. Admitting to being tired comes once, between just he and M, a woman he's watched grow old, after she shoots him off a moving train, into a river, with an explosive round (because she's scared, because she still can't trust him), and breaks his heart. Shortly after, though, he confirms that he's back on the job. England (she) needs him. So that's about how long he lets these things last, and how stiff his upper lip is. ]
Nothing a good soak and scrub won't fix.
[ God yes, now that's a thought to dwell on. Water. He'll wash off in a luke-warm shower to scrub all the big things off of him, and then he's going to blast the heat up and soak for nothing short of an hour in the tub. Heaven, or as close as he'll probably get.
A recently-regrown pair of brows lift ever so slightly at the decision. Well, if he hasn't got a choice... ]
Anything good to drink in your room, or will we have to order up?
[ Because you're staying with him, right? It's been a good while, after all. Usually Bond isn't very keen on company... but he can share a comfortable silence with the best of them.
You can join him in the bath or just watch him, too, Widow. He's too damn knackered to make anything of it (or maybe he just respects her too much to start it) beyond trading scrub-downs. He's very good with his hands, Natasha - you wouldn't be sorry. And of all the simple pleasures he adores, long nails gently dragging over his skin is one of his favorites. Honestly, right now, that sounds better than sex.
He's so thirsty. ]
no subject
I'm Russian, [ she tells him, one arm resting out the window, fingers splayed open as they cut through roads and air. ] What do you think?
[ And it's as easy as that.
It's not until she's showered and changed, sporting just a white shirt and her underthings, lazily smoking a cigarette that she looks— better. Less desert dust and wind and more smooth, healed skin, sitting at the end of her bed and idly flipping through tv channels. (Natasha's hair, still wet and knotted at the nape of her neck, looks the color of old blood.) Maybe she'd pulled a piece of sharpnel out of her thigh, the wound already sealed over so she'd had to cut it open again, a suture needle clenched between her teeth while Bond was only a few steps away in the shower; maybe, after she was finished, she'd watched him with a mild sort of interest. But she had left, only coming back in to use the shower herself, leaving him to the bath.
No, bodies and nudity don't bother her; yes, she wants to sleep with him. The thing is — it's always a balancing game, trying to figure out which is the safer bet. 007 or just a man named James.
When Bond finally joins her, she does nothing but exhale, sending a thin stream of smoke through the air. At her feet, as promised: two bottles of Russian Standard vodka, unopened, and three small bags of peanuts stolen from the mini-bar.
It'll have to do. ]
no subject
He appreciates Natasha's tool too, the long lines, the soft curves, and all the cutting edges he can see before and through the mottled glass of the shower. He watches her and doesn't make it a secret - in a sense, he thinks it'd be disrespectful to do so.
When he emerges from the steam of the bathroom, he seems like an entirely new man. Unlike Natasha, he's clad only in his briefs, a comfortable dark grey that hugs his narrow hips, yet can still leave a little to the imagination. Unlike Natasha, Bond's spare clothes are a Cessna ride away (in the morning, he'll put on his trousers and deal with the scorched undershirt as long as it takes to find a store that'll accept his card).
On his way to the bed, Bond picks up two glasses between his fingers from the mini-bar with one hand. The other picks up both bottles of vodka by the neck, and he draws himself up next to her on the bed, leaving about three feet between them as he leans back against the headboard; far enough to be friends, yet close enough that she'll feel the heat wafting off his bare (fresh, unmarred save for the scar cut high on his right collarbone) skin.
Silently, he cracks open the vodka, his eyes watching the telly with an air of typical British boredom while he blindly fills the glasses settled between his thighs. He doesn't talk, doesn't see the need to. It's a rare thing, that, and Bond couldn't say how much he appreciates not having to open his mouth and fill the air with bullshit.
When the glasses each have a few fingers (he could probably make something from the mini bar, but he'll just take it straight for now, doesn't think she'll mind either - Russian) he finally turns his head to look at her. The look about him is that of a lazy feline, the image of ease but not the proof of vulnerability. One hand extends the drink to her, and the other reaches short, slightly uneven (so many uneven breaks healed back a bit crooked, callouses from the gun) fingers to try and borrow the cigarette from her. She's been so hospitable about sharing elsewhere, after all... ]
no subject
Draped across like this, her bend of her elbow is lightly touching his knee. There's a sliver of skin at the dip of her lower back, pale between the white of her shirt and the black of her underwear. In a way that's wholly Natasha, she smiles at him a way that's more with her eyes than her mouth. (No telling which makes it more genuine.) ]
Спасибо.