Happens in a Soulmate Brock/Bucky/Tony AU, but the plot isn’t quite there yet. @susieeslei. You’ll know why.
The target was moving again. With a curse Brock lowered the rifle scope. He wasn’t usually the guy sent out for an assassination, he did have a cover at SHIELD to maintain after all. As it turned out though, the target apparently was high-profile enough that his superiors were willing to risk it.
Why they hadn’t simply deployed the Asset, Brock would never understand. He knew for a fact that the guy was a much more reliable shooter than he was. If he’d been sent after an accountant or even a regular agent who knew too much, Brock wouldn’t have worried too much. He had a knack for killing people, there was no reason to expect this mission to end any different.
If you ignored the fact that he was sent after Tony fucking Stark, the man with a freakish tendency for surviving the impossible Brock had ever seen, that is.
Well, no matter. Everybody’s luck had to run out at some point.
With that Brock readjusted the rifle. It was difficult to do, because even with a clearly marked red carpet area, Tony fucking Stark still managed to walk in dizzying snake lines, duck down unexpectedly to pick up a phone someone dropped and generally make himself a less shootable target.
Actually, that might be the entire point. That or the guy really was as erratic as he often appeared to be on television shows–not that Brock watched them or anything.
Then Stark deemed someone worthy of his attention for longer than a few seconds, though of course he was crouching down again, and even with the help of the scope Brock had difficulties making out who they guy was talking to–a kid, probably. He did have a clear sight on the way Stark threw his head back as he laughed however, appearing genuinely amused.
Finally, finally the man got up again, finally Brock had a clear shot. And a clear sight.
Of Tony fucking Stark. Wearing a self-made flower crown. Smiling so fucking bright it should be counted as a criminal offence.
He didn’t even know why. There was just something about this sight, about the headband adorned with fake daisies that stopped him. An instinctive, involuntary reaction.
By the time he had gotten over the surprise, Stark was already ushered through the entrance by his bodyguard.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Brock packed up his equipment and began to formulate a plan in his head. He’d messed up and he had no doubt that there would be consequences. But it was nothing he wouldn’t survive. Besides he hadn’t been caught. There would be other opportunities. It would just take some time to make one.
In the meantime. In the meantime he had some research to do. It was unlikely, of course. The chances were minimal. Negligible. But still. He had to be sure.
It was only his imagination acting up, Brock knew that, but as he climbed off the roof, he could have sworn his left wrist was burning. The words on his left wrist were burning.
Needing a Breather || Secret Santa Party || Neal and Emma
Emma wasn’t quite sure how many times she had ducked out to throw up. It was mostly throwing up the cider she was drinking by now. She’d thrown up all the food she’d had. She was going around like a chicken with its head cut off and it was making her a bit dizzy. She’d ducked back into the kitchen this time not for the alternate route she’d made to the restroom and not for cider to pass off as what everyone else was drinking, but this time it was for crackers. She was hoping to settle her stomach, and she was glad no one was in the kitchen at this moment to notice.