Night Watchman | Sam/Isla

isla-grey:

His words. His snarl. She could feel it. She could feel him sharing what was left of him, and showing her what she had caused. And it hurt. It hurt so much. Her hands were pressed to her forehead as she focused on suppressing the tears at her guilt, and his pain. She wanted to say sorry, do you know what, Sam? I’m fucking sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t have the guts to say goodbye, to tell you how much I’ll miss you and how much I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry that I let you hurt me. But instead her teeth ground together and her eyes squeezed shut; the scared little girl. Isla Grey. Always running away. Always fucking running. She did what she always did.

She blocked it out.

Her feet had taken control as her body cried, and her arms were snaking around Sam’s neck before she could take a breath. Her fingers wound into the familiar strands of his hair and she pulled him down, a single tear whispering across her cheek as her lips found his. And as her hands ran across him and held him closer, she wanted to forget. She wanted to stop the tears. She didn’t want to cry, and she didn’t want Sam to make her cry. No-one was allowed to make her cry anymore.

Isla Grey wasn’t allowed to cry.

“I don’t want to remember” She whispered into his mouth, the salt of her tears tinging her tongue. Her lip quivered against Sam’s own, a whimper escaping her as she felt everything she once knew rupturing in his arms “Please don’t make me remember him, Sam.” She pulled him closer, pressing his lips against hers and wondering how he could break her so easily. She pushed them back against her counter, her body pressing against his desperately, their forms moulding, hopelessly seeking comfort. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time; she hadn’t felt like she needed to keep breathing, or start crying. She hadn’t felt as if she needed to make someone smile, or to kiss away someone’s tears. She hadn’t felt as if she needed to know how to love. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and moved it away, her body hissing against Sam’s warmth as she climbed the counter, her legs pinning him down. Isla hadn’t needed anybody. Isla didn’t want to need anybody “I just want to be like him. I just want to forget.”

He was expecting a hit, either from a flying object or a petite fist, but he wasn’t expecting her body. Her lips. Those lips. And Sam understood, of course he did. Because he felt it too. He wanted to forget, just for a night, just for a moment. The madness and the pain, and the fucked up world they lived in. Why couldn’t they escape? Why not, just for a little while? His hands were against her within a moment, coursing across her body and drawing her nearer, his arms moving under her thighs and lifting her to his height, a hand tracing against her shirt line as she pushed them back against the counter.

And as she spoke, he closed his eyes against her, his forehead pressing against hers with a frustrated love and pain battling against him. Because it was true, what they say: everyone knows the taste of a kiss with a tear. And so he let her pull away his jacket, and he let her legs wrap around him, and he let his lips recapture hers. Because he loved her. They both sank onto the surface, their lips fast and broken and their minds lost in a reverie of what could have been and what should have been. But he caught her hand as it toyed with his shirt button, withdrawing his lips from his own addiction. His hand stroked her tangled hair and kissed her forehead gently as their breathing subsided.

And she let him.

And Sam was never sure, and he would probably never know. But he think he knew why. He thought it was because maybe, just maybe

She loved him, too.

He drew her down, nestling her head gently into his chest and he concentrated his breathing, feeling her soft weight against his, and memorizing the contours of her face, and the way her eyelashes would graze him as she blinked. He breathed.

“‘To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.’” His hand touched against her hair again, caressing it absently. That was what they were now: absent. But he thought back to their late nights of laughter and fine wines, and music that inspired them to dance and cry simultaneously. And he missed his best friend. And he missed Isla. And he missed everything that made him laugh until his sides hurt, and everything that made him feel sick with sadness. Sam’s eyes travelled down to the girl on his chest; beautiful, and burning. But broken. And he smiled. Because even though they were absent now?

At least they had lived.

Yankees | Alyss & Sam

alyss-ada:

Startled, she whipped around eye to eye with the man, the same annoying smile still plastered on his face.

“Listen I don’t know what you want but don’t ever follow me again, I hate it when people follow me.”

It was obvious to Alyss that there was an ulterior motive behind the mans questions, but at the moment, she wasn’t in the right mind state to give it much thought. All she wanted to was get away as quickly as possible.

As the girl spun on her heel to face him, he felt his eyes darken, so she would know; the darkness of intrigue, the darkness of knowing something more than she did, and the darkness of wanting to know more. The girl was hostile, that was certain, and normally any conversation with her would seem futile; she seemed unegotiable and stubborn, but he would only have expected that from someone who was obviously a teenage. Tantrums bored him endlessly, and he never felt that he had the time to humor people who were throwing hormonal fits. This girl obviously had no family, no connection to social acceptability; it was unnatural how angry she seemed.

Her threat was empty, and almost laughable, but Sam resisted the temptation to abruptly stop the drone of social talk, and instead made sure she was curious about his intentions. He could have captured her through his eyes, but her hostility spurred him further. The fact that more than one person had followed her before practically offered confirmation of her powers on a gold platter. He smiled.

“What made you think I was following you?” He laughed lightly into her ear as she once more swooped down to her level, his tone chipper and annoyingly alluring “That’s awfully obnoxious, don’t you think?”

The Reform | Chris & Sam

christopher-dundee:

“Any ideas on how you want to ‘harness’ their memories?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or do you think just having them run through their day and relay every detail would work?” He wasn’t sure how effective having Emilie and Renee run through their work day would be. They could still leave information out or they could recall something wrong.

“They might remember stuff that happened that’s abnormal from their daily routine, but stuff that happens every day would kind of just blend into the background right? If I walk past the same desk everyday, I won’t notice who’s sitting at it. But if there’s a new person sitting there I’ll notice. That kind of concept.”

Chris chewed on his bottom lip for a moment,”Or I’m completely wrong and they’ll remember more than I’m giving them credit for.” He shrugged.

“But don’t you see what you just said, Chris?” Sam smiled and shrugged lightly at his example, his hands extending outwards as if showing the man an invisible spectacle before him “You walk past the same desk everyday. If you’ve noticed the desk you’ve noticed the person. They might change the colour of their top, and the change is miniscule but you notice. In order to notice the change, you have to know the original copy to the most minute of details” His lip upturned in another smile “How would you notice a new person if you didn’t notice the first? There’s a difference between registering the person and seeing them.”

“We’ll probably see about their daily routine. Bare basics; breakfast, 8:42 train, skinny latte, wave to Heather at the front desk” His words were fast, pacing as he thought and tumbled over the ideas. “Then each day it will be different. What did you have for breakfast, was the train late, was Heather on the phone?” His thoughts subsided as a grim line fell across his features “It may be more difficult to harness the older memories, but we can train them to peripherate new ones.” He breathed slowly “It might be best not to tell them though; the more they concentrate on the information, the more the information becomes vague and distorted” It was similar to memory; the more a person remembers their wife’s smile on their wedding day, the more it fades from the the truth. It was science; it was the reason why Sam never looked back. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

New Training Partner || Emilie & Sam

emilie-lincoln:

Emilie meant every word she had said. She was willing to put in the practice and push herself. She didn’t like feeling helpless when she was walking around the street. Her being a fairly small girl made her an easy target for the government to try and get her. She needed to have as much ability as she could to fight them off. 

Good? That’s all he had to say about what she had said. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to give her a speech like what she had given him. He seemed to be a man of few words and got straight to the point. He wasn’t the type to beat around the bush and she liked that. Sometimes it was probably harsh but at least he wasn’t hiding stuff. People looked at her and probably thought she couldn’t take much. It would probably surprise people what she was truly capable of. 

Emilie still had that determined look and her arms folded when she noticed him plant himself firmly. Her look slightly wavered, wondering what he was doing. Once he said for her to hit him, she kept her look of determination on her face, but her arms unfolded. She calculated where the best hits would be. She didn’t want to hurt the guy, just show him what she could do. 

She was actually fairly good and throwing punches and kicks. It was something she did to get out frustration and anger. It was nice though to have a moving target. This was most likely the type of guy the government would send after her, so she was ready to to this. She balled her hands up in fists and moved towards him. 

Emilie didn’t put all of her strength behind her punches, which probably made them seem light to him. She threw a punches at his stomach and sides. It seemed to have little effect on him though. She threw a kick to the back of his knee but he only wavered slightly. This was the exact reason that she knew that she needed help. 

As the girl closed the distance between them, he caught the reassertion of determination across her features. It was refreshing to see; a new found drive to achieve, and to surpass others in a given field. He hadn’t seen such a look in a long while, he was glad that the girl had a new approach to such a dark situation. He made sure not to move whilst she hit at him, and watched her technique carefully as she moved around him.

Her hits were easily calculated through her searching eyes, changing stance and direction of movement, but there was potential. The girl had the potential to throw a good punch; some hits were on target and smart, even if she wasn’t completely asserting herself. As she moved away from his knee he raised an eyebrow at her; not angrily, but questioningly “Not bad; you’re sloppy, but you have potential. I have a question, though.” His palms moved upwards and outwards in a silencing movement, as if to stop her assault with his hands raised “Why did you hold back on me?”

Familiar Face | Ella & Sam

ella-ross:

Out of all of the supers to stalk, why her? Ella hated all of the running and the hiding. She wanted to be free to live her own life the way she wanted to. She vaguely remembered a conversation with Chris about moving to Norway for an adventure, but now she might have to just for a chance at having a better life. But then again, she probably wouldn’t get out off the country without border control hunting her ass.

She just silently nodded along to Rafe as he went on about them keeping tabs. It was tough, but sh had to admit, she had been getting sloppy. She was going to have to ditch using her phone and find a way of communicating which was way less traceable. Maybe she could get a messenger pigeon or whatever…

The streets were some-what crowded, which wasn’t weird at all for this part of town. She walked in front of Sam and felt him showing her which way to go, as she watched everyone getting on with their mundane daily activities, feeling slightly jealous.

It was the first time she spoke in a while. “I’ve had contact with…” She thought of the past week and all of the people she had encountered. “Some Police guy, who didn’t know who I am. He walked me home and his name was, um Grayson Marks I think.” She muttered “And surprisingly, Blondie and I have bumped into each other. For once she didn’t screw around with us. She actually helped me get out of trouble.” She stopped for a while, wondering if she should mention Nate, seeing as Chris didn’t react so well to that information, plus, Ella didn’t want to get kicked out of resistance purely because she found Nate, or well, Nate found her.

“I talked to my… boyfriend recently, but he said he’s gone out of town for a while so I’m not sure where he is or what he’s doing.”

His sigh was heavy, burdened with the gravity of the young girl’s innocence and carelessness. It was becoming rapidly evident that Ella wasn’t a member of The Resistance as much as she was an asset that needed to be protected. He made sure to keep a careful hand on her back as he manouvered them through the throng of the busy people, turning onto the bridge and moving to walk beside as the crowd subsided considerably.

“You spoke to a policeman?” Sam sighed, his hand naturally trailing through his hair as a frown deepened against his features. Rafe’s hair was different against his touch, a new texture and thicker as it ran through his fingers “Have you ever heard of the invention of lying, Ella? It’s a common occurence nowadays.” Grayson Marks would need some further investigation, once he had secured the girl’s safety. The thought of keeping her on lockdown teetered quietly against his mind; if she was supposed to be in hiding she was hardly being controlled, and she seemed much too young to listen to instructions “Any authority is probably playing you. Project Shepherd is strong; it has contacts everywhere, and eyes and ears are looking out for you, whether they know why or not, do you understand?”

Her mention of Blondie had him suppressing an intrigued frown; his ears tuned into her words with curiosity at the mention of the person. The vehemence and surprise in the girl’s voice suggested that Blondie was merely a construed and frustrated nickname, and that she was playing The Resistance for a game. Was she a Super, was that how she had the power to ‘screw around with us?’ It unsettled Sam, knowing that he was more oblivious than the girl in front of him. And this Blondie character, had he run into her? Had he fucked her, laughed with her, fought her, accidentally walked into her on the street? His mind pondered momentarily before he pulled his shoulders back with the frustrated sigh that he had so often heard Rafe elate, and shook his head “I take it we’re no nearer to finding out her name, then?”

When he was briefed by Rafe, his details on Ella were sparse. But Rafe wasn’t stupid, maybe a little rougher and more reckless with his work ethic, but ultimately he played it smart. A boyfriend wouldn’t have been on Rafe’s agenda. As soon as someone is thrown into a game of life or death with powerful government sources, it’s common knowledge to cut off all relationship ties. No, scratch that. It was common sense.

“Your boyfriend has conveniently left town when government agents have come knocking at your door.” He made sure to keep his tone careful, controlled. But even the least observant of people would be able to hear the warning of anger in his voice “Relationships are bad news, Ella. Not only are you compromised, but your ‘boyfriend’ is almost certainly going to get hurt.”

The Reform | Chris & Sam

christopher-dundee:

Chris nodded slightly, “Yeah, Renee managed to get the database…I dunno what her job was, though. Emilie’s the manager in HR. Besides that, I don’t think anyone’s collected anything.” Chris rolled his eyes at the joke but didn’t comment.

He thought about the conversation topic for a few moments, “You might want to talk to them though. I never talked to Renee York, but I’ve never drilled Emilie for information either. They might know something else or they might know something without really knowing something. Like how Sally Baker writes about Project Shepherd without really knowing it. They could see or hear stuff that sounds or looks completely innocent, but is actually related to information that’s a little important.” Chris looked over at Sam, “If that makes any sense.”

Sam’s hands were clasped before him, his brow furrowed pensively as he absorbed Chris’ words. He nodded slowly, thinking about making contact with the two girls. Emilie wasn’t an impossible contact; in fact, he was supposed to be meeting her later for one of Rafe’s foolish attempts at giving charity by teaching her how to ‘fight’. Renee York might pose a further problem, he had been tracking the few names that Rafe had supplied to him before he left, and although her name was on the list, she hadn’t been around the City much. As a new addition to the team, she may have been a liability; one which he would have to capture and eradicate immediately upon location. And when he thought of it; the cool bullet to her head and the delicate collapse of her body folding downwards, he felt it. The feeling spread through him and clenched at his stomach. It felt good.

The coldness in his eyes quickly subsided as Chris stirred him out of his stupor. Sam’s eyebrows raised as he mentioned drilling Emilie for questions, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile at the silent words proceeding the sentence. He suppressed a smirk as the man continued easily, but couldn’t help but wonder in what others Chris was drilling her. He smiled and relaxed, the muscles in his back sighing back into the chair behind him as he nodded, his finger tapping in habit softly against his jaw.

“You’re right. The human mind is brilliant” Sam’s fascination shone through his words, lighting up his smile in an intrigued reverie “The amount we absorb within a second is phenomenal, whereas we only choose to register about 20% of it. If we can harness the girls’ peripheral memories, we may be closer to the truth than we originally thought.”

OOC

It’s your favourite mod here!

Sorry for my absence - crazy busy for the past couple of weeks sorting out my dissertation!

EDIT:

I know I said I’d reply, but that will happen over the next couple of days.

Night Watchman | Sam/Isla

isla-grey:

“Don’t you say that,” Isla’s voice shook as her hand jerked away from his touch, as if it were suddenly burning her. And it was. Searing her with warmth, and comfort, and love. Everything she didn’t want to feel. Everything she didn’t need to feel. Her lip quivered and she felt her chest tighten at his words, her head shaking “Don’t you dare say that to me, Sam. Because you left” Her voice was broken, her mind burning in fury as her hand flew outwards in anger and connected with her glass, sending it soaring across the room and shattering, spraying the kitchen with shards of everything broken about Isla.

“You’ve already left me, Sam” She hissed, her lip curling as she felt a flood of pain and rage course through her, physically forcing her towards him “Do you think that didn’t hurt?” Her smile was sad, pained “Where were you when I needed you?” She breathed a laugh, realising their proximity. Her face was inches from his, their breathing mixing heavily as a silence fell between them. She stood back, a hand running through her hair in an attempt to divert her emotional deterioration

“No, you’re not allowed to say that to me.” She looked to him, her eyes begging him to stop tormenting her whilst her face remained placid “You’re not allowed to come waltzing in and fuck everything up for me, Sam. Because I’ve been building something” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, it never did anymore “It isn’t the apple pie life, with the white picket fence and the tyre swing on the old oak tree. But it’s mine, and you can’t take that away from me.” She shook her head, and felt the solitary tear slide down her cheek, a traitor to her facade “Not again.”

Sam’s anger was not often tested. But Isla brought out every emotion in him: fear, love, pain, happiness, envy and anger. She had a special ability to fill him with rage and have him crying with laughter simultaneously, and just as much as he despised her for that, he loved her for it, as well. Her words cut at him, slicing against his barrier and testing him with a teasing smirk. His lip quivered as he suppressed the urge to scream, his hand curling into a shaking fist, his knuckles white with pressure.

“You want to talk about leaving, Isla?” Sam kept his voice quiet, but this time it was too quiet. Too calm. The oncoming storm was rumbling, and both occupants could feel the brewing anger in him “Because I didn’t fucking leave, Isla, that was you.” He looked up from his shaking fists and fixed her with a hurt look, his confusion of emotions causing torment in him “You bailed on everything; on your life, on your home, your family, on us.” His smile held no warmth, no humour “And how did you say goodbye? With a fucking note?” His laugh turned into a dark humourless snarl “Of course not, because Isla Grey is a different fucking person. No, you left nothing. No goodbye, no trace.” His hand was shaking so much that he felt the pulse beat through him, sending his fist crashing angrily into her worktop and shaking its entire contents, the pain a dull ache in comparison his internal battle. His anger subsided as he watched his drink shake with the reverberations of his force. He closed his eyes, and breathed slowly. In. Out. Count to three. Repeat.

“I love you, Isla.” Sam’s words were just above a whisper, focusing on the image of the girl he once knew, smiling and dancing in a summer dress to Radiohead as if the world wasn’t watching “You know that. But this life that you’re building is on broken foundations. You’re hurting yourself, and I can’t bear to see you do that.” He smiled, as he remembered the way she used to laugh, and the way her eyes used to brighten in the light “And if you’re going to fight me, then remember why you’re here. Remember him, Isles.” His smile was sad, his eyes were dark with the lightness of his memories “We’re fighting the same battle, and we’re not supposed to be on opposing sides.”

Yankees | Alyss & Sam

alyss-ada:

It had been a long time since Alyss had felt a sense of normalcy in her life. After countless run ins with government agents, being trapped in zoo and almost bleeding to death she’d had enough. For one day she wanted to stop worrying and simply enjoy herself.  A ball game seemed like the perfect way to pass the time,especially since it was easy to blend in.

Alyss wasn’t all that much into baseball, in fact she found it incredibly boring, but it’s what normal people would seem to do on the weekend right? Go to a nice ball game.

With both hands shoved down her pockets she maneuvered her way through the masses of people with caution. As her eyes scanned crowd she met eyes with a man,followed by a small child trailing behind, his son most likely.

Their eyes locked and the two stared at each other for a brief moment, the man cocked his head slightly as his eyes narrowed at Alyss. She broke eye contact immediately and quickened her pace not paying attention to the direction she moved towards.

 A sudden jolt brought her back to reality when she’d abruptly run into someone. Alyss mumbled something inaudible and regained her composure, slightly surprised as the person stopped to apologize to her.”That was entirely my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” she turned around, met by a mans smiling face.

You have got to be kidding me, Alyss thought. She almost had to stop herself from gagging at his sickly sweet words.

“What’s the rush?” he asked curiously.

Alyss furrowed her brows and shot him a look, “That is none of your business.” she replied sternly. She glanced around for the man with the little boy, they were gone, nowhere to be seen. It left her with the unsettling feeling that someone was watching her.

The girl’s look and her snappy words made it clear: she didn’t want to talk. Naturally, Sam could have shrugged it off, continued his mission and detained the agent, who was now disappearing into the seating area, his son’s cackle still blatantly obvious as to their location. But there was something niggling at the back of his mind, telling him to stay with the girl. Even if she had been running, that girl shouldn’t have made him stumble.

As she went to pass him, he turned on his heel and casually kept pace with her, walking just behind her, a musing ponder humming from his lips as his hands buried into his pockets.

“You’re right, it’s probably none of my business” He responded lightly, making it clear to the girl that even though she was finished with the conversation, he wasn’t “But you’ve hardly given my incentive as to your answer.” He bent down slightly, to make his voice heard over the bustle of excited baseball fans, his tone playful and a small smile creeping onto his lips “So what is it? Boyfriend troubles? Are you the star player of the game? Or are you just desperate for a corn dog?”