War Zone (AU?) Meme

[cornichaun]

 THE WAR ZONE MEME


WARNING: Meme will contain TRIGGERS, including war, violence, capture, and general uncomfortable content. Please do not click if you don't want to see, and please respect your fellow role-players.

◊ Post with your character with name and canon. 
◊ List any preferences(roles, scenarios, time periods, etc.) you have.
◊ Reply to others! Roll using random.org or choose your prompts.

ROLES
1) The General/Admiral: You're the head honcho, the guy in charge. You have hundreds, maybe thousands of lives resting on you. What decision will you make?

2) The Officer: Not the leader, but you've got responsibility for your crew. What's your specialty -- independent initiative? Insubordination? Or do you let the noncoms walk all over you?

3) The Soldier: Just an ordinary soldier with your pike, or rifle, or energy gun. Your job is to follow orders. But when it comes down to it, when you look the enemy in the eye -- what will you do?

4) Spy: Dressed in civilian clothes, disguised as an enemy officer. Your job is to get as much information as you can, and then get out. Or are you going to sow a little chaos and destruction along the way?

5) Civilian: This is your land that's being fought over. Do you support a side? Do you hide, or do you hold steady in the face of such violence?

6) Other. 

SCENARIOS
1) Battle: In the middle of the fighting.

2) Downtime/R&R: A few peaceful moments, to spend as you will.

3) Sabotage: Something's gone terribly wrong. A factory blown up, a bridge destroyed, an assassination. What do you do about it?

4) Planning: How do you go about storming that beach?

5) Capture/Rescue: The enemy soldiers have you surrounded. Or maybe you're on a daring mission to break your buddies out of jail.

6) Other. 

TIME PERIOD
1) Ancient times: Grab that centurion's helmet, form up into a phalanx, and let's go crush those Gauls and/or Persians!

2) Medieval times: Suit up in your armor, grab a lance and make sure to bring along your squire.

3) Revolutionary times: Basic guns and muskets, very little medical care, and very little tactics. Give the other army a few days to dig in, and they'll hold you off forever.

4) World War I/II: Technology is advancing, and warfare is more sophisticated than ever. Remember the trenches, the skirmishes in cities, the spies and the drama.

5) Modern times: Guerilla warfare, modern tactics, modern technology.

6) The future: Ray guns? Space battles? Let your imagination go wild.

7) Other.

Comments

[the_new_sexy]

He gives her the slightest of smirks.

"I wouldn't believe you," he says. He produces another cigarette, already itching for one as he watches her smoke.

Women, he has learned are either victims, perpetrators, alibis, or motive. But this Woman, this Irene Adler, he has already learned is very different from the women he has met before. She stands in a different world than he is used to. She thinks differently. She stands as tall and confident as any general he has met in this war.

"I could be wrong," he admits. He flicks his lighter, and it fails. He tries again, but it continues to fail him.

[womanwhobeatyou]

She takes another long slow drag, savouring the cigarette. Her preference for tobacco was, as in all things, for quality, and the war made it difficult to keep a steady supply of what she liked. She kept lower quality cigarettes around for show, to make a statement, but this one was one she liked, and she savoured it.

"But you don't think you are. If you are wrong, you wouldn't admit it," she answers, watching him struggle with his lighter. She holds up her cigarette case. "Care for a light?"

[the_new_sexy]

"No," he admits. "I don't think I am."

He should say no to the light. She is a spy. The spy, and he is supposed to be stopping her. Not sharing a cigarette with her, not having a conversation. He should, in fact, be calling his brother and having this whole place searched, and her caught and stopped.

That's what he should do.

Instead, he nods for the light.

[womanwhobeatyou]

She holds the cigarette between her smirking lips and closes the distance between them with one step. Her fingers are steady as she plucks a match from the matchbook in her cigarette case, and strikes it on the first try along the back.

"And if I told you you were wrong?" she asks, her words clear around the cigarette as she extends the match to him. "I expect you wouldn't believe that either. That you would believe that's also a test."

[the_new_sexy]

The match touches the end of his cigarette and he takes a drag, pulling the flame towards the cigarette. It feels like he's drawing her closer, drawing her into his lungs.

"Of course," he says, leaning back as he speaks. "Because what other reason would you give me this, then? There isn't another one. And your word is hardly bond."

He ashes onto the floor. "You're a spy, Miss Adler."

A small, crooked smile appears on the edge of his lips. "And a liar."

[womanwhobeatyou]

As soon as his cigarette catches, she pulls the match away and lets it flutter to the ground. A carefully careless gesture, as she steps back, her heel grinding the match to soot.

"Good," she says, a small smile of her own mirroring his. There is something almost soft in it, a slight twitch of the corner of her mouth that is not precisely perfect, the smallest flaw. She steps away from him and slips the cigarette case back into her pocket, takes the cigarette from between her lips. "Then you won't believe me when I tell you you can have it. The machine."

[the_new_sexy]

"I don't," he says. "You'd die before you gave it up completely to me."

Unless that's what she's saying. Or implying. Unless she thinks she's going to die, and soon. He feels something sharp in his chest at the idea of that. This Woman he barely knows, dying. He doesn't like the idea of her not being in the world. Of her not infuriating him with her...herness.

[womanwhobeatyou]

She laughs softly at that, and for a moment breaks his gaze, looks around her at the hidden room and its infinitely complex machinery. Her eyes sweep the room, as if she is memorizing it, as if she does not expect to see it again as she takes another long lingering draw from her cigarette, and eventually she meets his eye again.

She blows a stream of smoke, then moves briskly, as if remembering herself again. She steps into his space again, and presses her lips to his. Her lipstick is waxy, and faintly sickly sweet, but she does not speak until she has pulled away from him again.

"I hope you're wrong, Mr. Holmes."

[the_new_sexy]

There are things he expects, and things he does not expect, and then there is that. Her lips, on his. the taste of her lipstick, waxy and red, and the flavor of good tobacco smoke. He hadn't expected her to kiss him, and he'd be lying if he said he knew what he'd do if he had.

He simply froze, watching her as she pulled away from him.

I hope you're wrong, Mr. Holmes. It must mean something, his brain told him. It meant something, and he isn't seeing it. It is a game, and she is playing him. Playing him like a violin, holding him in her hands and drawing her bow across him.

He clears his throat before he speaks. "I will work out the passcode if you leave it with me."

[womanwhobeatyou]

The absolutely stunned look on his face is surely worth a laugh, but she does not laugh, simply shakes her head, and steps neatly around him for the door.

The cigarette falls from her fingers before she leaves the room, and she does not bother snuffing its smoldering tip.

[the_new_sexy]

He almost follows her. Almost.

A puzzle awaits for him here. This huge, strange machine. A puzzle leaves with her, too, but he doesn't realize that until she's gone. The cigarette burns in his hand. He focuses on the waxy taste of red on his lips, and the way the machine before him works.

He wouldn't have known what to say if he caught up with her, at any rate.

In the morning, he sends a telegram to his brother, telling him that he expects they'll find Irene Adler dead.