Post by Cuppy on Sept 4, 2020 8:02:56 GMT
|| Nail HYDRA ||
(with cupcakewrites)
Claire:
You wouldn’t believe my life if I told you about it. And I will tell you about it. Starting out as a robber (unsuccessfully) I got taken to SHIELD to assist Sitwell (unsuccessfully, for both me and him). Obviously Fury or Coulson or Hill or whoever was in charge at that time saw something in me that went beyond fetching coffee and they trained me to be a proper SHIELD agent (clearance level 1, which is quite humiliating, but on the other hand the lanyard issued by Koenig has a nice color).
This is when I met Raven. Raven Darkholme. You might know her as Mystique. On the other hand, if you knew her as Mystique, you might not live to tell the tale. That’s how badass this woman is. At first I had hit on her (unsuccessfully because her heart already belonged to a CIA agent that looks like Eastwood) but she didn’t kill me for it. And then we were thrown into adventures, many of them. The last one including a copy of me, a bunch of murderous LMDs, a quinjet and me regretting not wearing panties because I peed myself from fear.
Well, let’s not get into details.
Eventually we crash landed in a river, and then stole a motorbike to get to a diner because we were hungry. We’re always hungry to be honest.
Usually this is the end of a superhero movie, where the heroines sit safely (and still in full make-up despite the fact that we nearly drowned in a river) in front of a stack of pancakes and laugh about what they’ve gone through. Not so with us.
Only halfway through the pancakes (with maple syrup) the doors open and three men are standing at the door.
“We are Chronicoms and we’ve come to take you.”
And ‘zap’ Raven and I disappeared from our plastic seats and just seconds later woke up in a chrome-and-metal cell with no windows but really unflattering neon light.
“The fuck, Raven? What was that?”
This is when I met Raven. Raven Darkholme. You might know her as Mystique. On the other hand, if you knew her as Mystique, you might not live to tell the tale. That’s how badass this woman is. At first I had hit on her (unsuccessfully because her heart already belonged to a CIA agent that looks like Eastwood) but she didn’t kill me for it. And then we were thrown into adventures, many of them. The last one including a copy of me, a bunch of murderous LMDs, a quinjet and me regretting not wearing panties because I peed myself from fear.
Well, let’s not get into details.
Eventually we crash landed in a river, and then stole a motorbike to get to a diner because we were hungry. We’re always hungry to be honest.
Usually this is the end of a superhero movie, where the heroines sit safely (and still in full make-up despite the fact that we nearly drowned in a river) in front of a stack of pancakes and laugh about what they’ve gone through. Not so with us.
Only halfway through the pancakes (with maple syrup) the doors open and three men are standing at the door.
“We are Chronicoms and we’ve come to take you.”
And ‘zap’ Raven and I disappeared from our plastic seats and just seconds later woke up in a chrome-and-metal cell with no windows but really unflattering neon light.
“The fuck, Raven? What was that?”