Every once in a blue moon, Dallas Brett Green would turn himself over to a rare bit of introspection: what if I was marooned here for a purpose, what was so great about home that I need to go back to, can I find love for something beyond crooning Amy Winehouse shirtless while straddling the countertop... and, rarely, whether it was wrong to find Rebekah Fell so hot.
Then she'd whip out a minigun, caress the trigger with just the right amount of unf, and blow all his questions away.
Even as the Ultimates led the mutant push, he saw Red Skull blast another threesome of Archangels out of the sky. All credit to the SHIELD of this universe, though - their little spec ops outfit was alright at taking advantage of megalomania when they had to, enough that it made Dal question whether they might be alright at defending themselves from a certain little techno-organic mutation after all. Red Skull's increased girth had made him slow, and even while three blue super soldiers screamed and burned, six more had landed in a semi-circle around the back of the Hydra leader's neck, giving each other wide berths where necessary and emptying clips into the sensitive spot underneath the armor's collar.
Red Skull's bestial shriek of pain nearly busted Dallas' eardrums, and he whirled around to obliterate the squadron of Archangels. He half-succeeded; three more Archangels closely followed their predecessors, but all the same six brightly colored flares hurtled forward--
--and from behind the ruin of the Times Square Ball, the silhouette of a SHIELD Helicarrier dipped forward onto the scene. Faced with aerial opposition and the combined bug bite assaults of the Archangels, mutants, and militias below, the hundred-foot war criminal had perhaps realized he was still only human.
"Bah! Stark! Mobilize the drones! We ret--Stark! Stark! I BIRTHED YOU! I GAVE YOU LIFE! STARK! STARK! Sarkissian! Stark has gone rogue and Herr Schmidt de--"
"--can't tell me you're not seeing anyone, whatever happened to that nice American boy? Tall, blonde, and handsome? The one who tossed around the silly ball all day? He seemed sweet enough."
"Oh. Matt." Aleks' lips pursed, and teeth scraped against one uncertainly. From the condo, he heard a dull roar that he tried to cover up with a well-faked sneeze. "We...achoo... didn't work out."
"I'm your mother. It's my job to pry."
"Please don't. Not this time."
"Okay, Aleksei, okay. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I know that you--"
"It wasn't an experiment or anything. It just...didn't work out. There's this girl in the city, she and I still keep in touch, but...I dunno. Might not go anywhere. I don't want that one to not work out."
"I understand," his mother said softly. "You sound tense. Working with the kids?"
"Something like that. Helping them with target practice."[
"Then I'll call you back in a few," his mother said understandingly.
"I don't know about that. I have..." Don't choke. You're better than choking. "A lot of targets left."
"Then you be a good boy," his mother said understandingly, "and make every shot count."
"Always do, Mum. Love always."
"Love always, Aleksei. Remember - you be a good boy and Skype me when you have the time. I need your help figuring out what a profile picture is, how to add one...and any American girl who can make you want to work fast food is a girl I want to hear about."
"You sure? She's an earful. Nearly broke my collarbone back into place once just to shut me up."
His mother laughed - soft, twinkling laugh, ice crystals glittering on windchimes. An icy balcony, adjacent to our dining room. And our living room. And the bedroom door. Just stick the jump and slip inside. It was child's play, and it always made her smile. I was her little gymnast. The Miracle on Ice.
"I suppose it's true," she teased him, crackly through the sat-line. "They always fall for girls just like their mothers."
"Christ, I hope not," her son deadpanned.
"Don't be a smartass to your mother," Katerina growled. "You be a good boy and conserve your ammo, check your targets. Shooting range is a dangerous place. I'm going to hang up, Aleksei."
"Not if I hang up first." Don't close your left eye to aim with the right. Rookie mistake. Run the risk of parallax.
"You could never lie to me, Aleksei."[
"Sure I could," he growled back, finger tugging nervously on the trigger. "I'm hanging up now, Mom."
"Both hands on your rifle?"
"I know how to do this, Mum."
"How can you hang up if both hands are on your rifle? Are you using your shoulder to hold the phone? How often have I told you--?"
"I've done this before, Mum."
FOOM! The rifle's butt pressed into his shoulder, familiar and warm. His finger was frozen stiff to the trigger.
"I know, child," his mother said sadly, softly, sweetly - hardly audible before the telltale sound of a dead phone line.
The telltale sight of a body plummeting.
The telltale click - no ammo no ammo no ammo no AMMO.
The signal, like hornets.
"Time to move," he radioed the rest of his drop team. "We need a better view on the big one--"
"FOOOOOOLS! CUT OFF ONE HEAD! TWO MORE WILL TAKE ITS PLACE!"
Taking wounds and heavy fire, Red Skull lit up the repulsors on his large Iron Man suit with all haste and attempted his final, ill-fated retreat. With the wounds he'd sustained already and his suit unaccustomed to the strain of so much mass and energy, he was visibly sagging toward the ground, and Red Skull put one final burst of energy into his propulsion system. He wasn't even attempting to fire back.
When you were a hundred feet tall and your face was as broad as a parking lot, it was pretty hard to miss a look of sheer panic.
Edited by tylerlicious definicious, Mar 30 2015 - 06:41 PM.