The Witch Doctor
Poison is in everything, and nothing is without poison.

The Viaduct


The Sniper truly wasn’t made for this kind of weather. When the first brisk breeze brushed through the Viaduct he thought nothing of it. So far north, based within the expansive forests, it was to be expected. What he /didn’t/ expect was waking up the next morning to step out of his camper and into a snow bank that was at least a foot deep. What was worse was that they were expected to continue on with the battle as if the ground was bare.

The others didn’t have too much of a problem; a few of them seemed to be right at home and even the Southern born Truckie barely batted an eye at the blanket of snow. None of them came from a place where the heat could melt the flesh from your bones if you weren’t careful and regulated your exposure. With minimal grumbling he packed up his rifle, tucked his coffee maker under his arm and threw a blanket over his shoulders. If he was going to be out there, he was staying in a roost and not moving.

Two hours into the battle and he could barely get a shot off, he was shaking so much. The snow began to fall again which did nothing for his aim. The large Heavy should have had his head splattered on the wall behind him but the trio of shots weren’t even close to their mark. Giving up, he wrapped his blanket around him and hunkered down, intending to rest for the remainder of the battle.

It was dangerous there; any one of the other company’s mercenaries could arrive and kill him while he was prone, but at least that meant he’d be able to get a few moments of warmth before heading back into the snow. If it wasn’t for the soft snoring, the thick blanket and the hat that topped it might’ve been mistaken for discarded items.

                Viaduct, in essence, was a cakewalk compared to Coldfront. After the base there had been burned to a crisp and everyone got transferred, Aradia found herself in another winter hellhole. Except this place wasn’t as cold. Honestly, she was simply waiting for Talone to show up. They’d never been separated before, and this was the first time. It unnerved her; now she had to rely on complete strangers. It wasn’t the first tmie, and likely not the last time, but, like most people, there was a preference for a friendly, familiar face.

                  None of which were in the BLU base on Viaduct. Most teammates seemed to be irritated with the cold biting at their cheeks, no matter how bundled they were. She, herself, sweated a little when working too hard here. The sun was out, and the map wasn’t as infested with snow. Brief memories of hunting in Washington winter always brought a smile to herself as she secretly eyed the rifle of the BLU Sniper whenever it was laying around.

                     Now, he was nowhere in sight and she was stumbling about the map with a wound in her gut. A tricky stab from the enemy Spy, though she had managed to defend herself and flee before she was sent through Respawn. The Medic moved through the thin snow (at least thin to her senses), before she found one of the few places of shelter. More commonly known for being a nest to Snipers.

                   Upon seeing no one, and not hearing the snoring, she spotted the blanket and sighed with relief. Aradia slowly made her way there then blew out a giant sigh of relief as she toppled on top of the blanket, not expecting any human body to be beneath it.



He took the piece of paper politely and looked down at it, memorizing the number in his head. Steve looked up at Aradia while he spoke.

"Thanks. I don’t have anything much to do right now, you want to go get some coffee or something?"


             Coffee? This offer sure sounded suspiciously like a casual date. When was the last time she had indulged in such a silly thing like that? Far too long, in her opinion. Too busy hiding from HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. The woman shrugged and then nodded. “Sure! Sounds good to me~ Could definitely get a tea. C’mon, handsome.”



"Yeah these places aren’t easy on the wallet." he snorted. "It’s worth it. Usually. 8 out of 10." he said with a chuckle waving the bartender over. "What’s your poison?"

                  Poison. Hah. That got a small laugh out of her. If only this man knew, but hey, no harm in a little flirting, right? It’s likely they would never see each other again after this. He was really good-looking, and when was the last time she spoiled herself? "I’ll take something light for now. Vieux Carré, if you please."

▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ☾ supersoldierofliberty ☽ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁


Eli’s regularly smug smile returned at her words and he perked up “Well then, I’m glad to hear it. So glad infact that i’m going to buy you a drink.”


        A shameless, flirtatious smile appeared on her own face as she regarded his words. Then a small shrug was offered with a tilt of her head. "Sounds lovely. Lord knows I don’t have enough money to get another."



"Can’t you hear these women over there gawking over that Ryan Gosling fellow." he explained with a disapproving tone. 

        A laugh bubbled from her lips as she gave a small wave to disregard his little concern. "Oh sugar. You’re far more attractive than Gosling could ever hope to be. Those women obviously have no taste."


"Cut me up into pieces. Trace the knife across my chest, my face, anywhere you’d like. I want to feel the pain, see the blood, sense the sting…I want to feel…am I real?" Maroon spoke with an eerie grin adorning his face as he held the knife out for the person in front of him.

                         There was a faint inhale of a breath as dark hues settled on the young form, studying, calculating. This was either a practical joke, or a serious request. The truth couldn’t exactly be formed with the smile that married the boy’s face. Regardless, the woman plucked the knife from his fingers, tilting her head to the side. "We both know the answer to your question, young one. Though, I shall happily cut you, if you so wish it."




                   She smiled with a quirk of a brow. “And, pray tell, who are we comparing your eyes with?”


♤ bande à part }


     Night was the cafe’s curtain. Without it, the veil of smoke and steam had lifted, and in its place were zombies lurching for relief. Their flaws stole the spotlight, their eyes wane like the current sun. Even he, a well-known patron of old hovels, appeared unfit for the booth, his booth. Restlessness began to eat away at him. And what else was there to feed upon but his hunger for a change of pace? Where else were the misfits to go but here?

     A wretched kind of comfort ensured that he would return here, again and again, after fight or scheme or plan gone horribly wrong. That cook in the back, she’d gauzed his hands more times than he cared to count. A pristine Aradia in the watering hole—there was a joke here, somewhere.

     He said, almost admiringly, “Suits you.” Oser grazed his nostrils from knuckles to wrist. She could have done him in, really. Took the bounty, took his head, whichever she preferred. Seldom had he felt so fortunate to be alive. There was honour in that. Pride lifted him from cozy mediocrity, and he leaned forward, elbow propped on the table, chin cradled in his palm.

     ”Seems like you set aside good time for your, em—interests. That’s good fun, yeah? Then let’s say we ‘ead outta here.” He clenched his fists tightly. “Where to next?”

                 The thrill of the hunt was what she always lived for. Well, the hunt of her own accords. Hunting lead to capturing. Capturing lead to torturing, and boy was the torture play just the best in the world. Cries, screams, blood. Pleading, suffering simply added to the beautiful music of the orchestra in which she conducted. Waving her little instruments all along the precious skin of her victims.

                A wave there, a slice here. Almost getting lost in her own thoughts of her work, the image of him leaning up against the table caught her vision and brought her back down to earth. A blink, and then a quirk of a brow. His accent was peculiar, his voice in general did tingly little things to her skin. This creature, this beautiful pet of hers, was certainly more interesting than all her previous ones.

                 The desire to hurt him, to pull from his lips the pretty little groans and moans, cries and glares resided deeply within her. A smile pressed her own mouth as her gaze caught him curling his fingers into his palms. What an eager little thing. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to bring him along with her on her job. She had to watch over him, after all, lest Lacy get her dirty claws on him.

                                         “Hm… I have a job that just came in.” Aradia pushed her filthy cup away from her and pulled out her tablet, flicking it on. A pile of information was brought to the screen as she scrolled through the words. "Care to watch what else I do aside from hunting down pretty little things like you?"