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Matthew West

"Whatever happens, Jaz. Remember to duck."

0 · 711 views · located in Terra

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by NotAFlyingToy

Description

Rise Against wrote:It kills me not to know this
But I've all but just forgotten,
What the colour of her eyes were,
And her scars, and how she got them.

History

>/loginuid: westmatt

[[[ID ACCEPTED. COMMAND:]]]

>/start endynecor.exe

[[FETCHING SERVER INFO]]

>/serverinfo 132.121.67.8

[[PATCH IN?]]

>/y

[[[PATCHING endynecor.exe AT 132.121.67.8]]]


>Loading files...
...
..
.
>Files loaded. Loading images....
..
..
.... [[[ERROR- IMAGE CORRUPT]]] Reconnecting...
>...
>..
>Reconstruction failure. Attempt re-reconstruction? Y/N
>/n

>Image Upload cancelled.

[[...Hacking...]]


[[...Decoding...]]


[[...Validating...]]


Username: [[telsayj]]
Password: [[*******]]

>Logging in...

=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

>Welcome, Dr. Telsay! What can we assist you with?
1) Current Projects
2) Endyne Corp Relations
3) Last Page Visited
4) Corporate Ladder

>/3

>Loading Subject Smite... Please wait...
>Loading files 142/142 at 123 kb/s.
>....Done

[DETECTION ALERT: ISOLATING SOURCE]

>/init actscan

[[[DETECTION NEUTRALIZED. ACTIVE SCAN INITIATED]]]


>Project Name: Matthew West, ALIAS: Smite

Specialization: Long Distance Reconnaissance/ Retrieval team, SSGT.

Credentials: The BK400 Project, The Defiance project, squaredid23 squaredid28, and ***CLASSIFIED*** project.

Successful Missions: 42/42

Retrievals: (89) Retrieved, (1) pending

Biography: Special Agent Smite was born on January 26th, in the year XXXX. Currently employed at Endyne Corp as field agent specializing in retrieval of runaway projects, currently tracking project 0000136. Was a sniper in US Army for three years, honourable discharge. Residence unknown. Parentage unknown. Public Identity: Matthew James West, accountant, British Columbia.

Appearance: !ERROR, IMAGE FILES CORRUPT. PRESS C TO CONTINUE

>/c


>Whereabouts: Currently unknown; out of country. Smite has special ops training in every climate, including tundra/arctic camoflauge training. Subject is considered dangerous.

>!WARNING: The following files are CLASSIFIED to all subjects below seclevel 8.2B. Enter passcode to continue.

>/init passcd.exe/burner

[[DESCRAMBLING PASSCODE...]]
.
.
[[[...DONE. PASSCODE 18023571996]]]

>/ 18023571996

>Passcode accepted. Seclevel clearance ALPHA Granted.

> Warrant: Currently a Warrant out for Smite’s arrest into Endyne for breaking regulations regarding hunting and capture for experiment 0000136, under law ZETA-GAMMA, stating capture within FIVE (5) months. User being tracked with total of 6 RECON teams, all under orders; shoot – kill. Commanding officer one Bridges, Julius A. Commander, RECON State alpha. Bridges personal tie to Subject Smite, better results expected.

> Equipment: Smite utilizes Sniper Rifle, X-32 Caliber, Titanium Alloy. Sidearm is Kaden 5.26 mm, Melee is dual edged combat knife. Secondary weapon MP5 Elongated SMG. Total rounds of ammo: 180 (12 X-32, 18 5.26, 150 SMG Ammo)

> Uniform: Riot Helmet, marked with a gold blotch on the crown, kevlar vest, combat boots; black. Camouflaged standard thermal uniform.

> Personality: WARNING: VOLATILE NATURE UNDETECTED. Fit for combat is questionable.

>!Continue to Analysis?

>/c


>Analysis: Dr. James Webber, PhD.
Subject Smite seems too calm for normal existence inside Retrieval squad. Instead is laid back, sarcastic, humorous. Has been known to joke around and feel empathetic towards his targets for retrieval, subject’s behaviour is unerratic and professional. Injections into subject seem to be ineffective to increase anger/rage, suggest stronger dose.

>Subject Smite is one of 16 Retrieval officers. 5 MIA, 11 KIA.

>/run shutdown.exe

[[[SHUTDOWN COMMENCING]]]

[[WIPING PRESENCE]]

[[[WARNING! DETECTION IMINENT! SHUTDOWN HALTED. ISOLATING...]]]

>Thank you for choosing Endyne, Dr. Telsay. Or, should we say, Mr. West.

!DO NOT HACK US AGAIN.!

[[CONNECTION SEVERED. DAMAGE: SEVERE. POWER SAVING MODE ACTIVATED]]

----------LOG TERMINATED--------

So begins...

Matthew West's Story

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Matt was on his feet in a heartbeat, ice slipping out of the bag and scattering across the floor, breaking into chunks that would no doubt require a mop later. Wincing as he moved on his bad foot, he limped after her, opening his eyes as far as he could through the heavy right-side swelling. As he approached her into the kitchen, flipping a switch (and ignoring the blinding pain as the light flared in the space), he regarded her incredulously.

"Are you... are you drunk?" He asked, the bewilderment spilling out of his mouth.

Out of all the things he'd seen in the past decade, a drunken Jaz was never accounted for.

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He waved off her question, approaching her. "Got into a fight. Someone spiked your drink?"

He moved inside her proximity, keeping his distance from her as he regarded her pupils. Dialated. Definitely spiked with something. But why would anyone want to spike a random girl's drink? Just as he was about to ask where she was when this all happened, she exhaled... and he smelled the sweet stink of a well mixed drink. Sighing out his nose, he barely held back a chuckle, leaning one arm on the counter to her right, his bandaged knuckles reaching up to rub his aching jaw.

"What kind of tea, Jaz?"

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Matt barked out a laugh, and then winced, placing a hand to his ribs. "I'm not. He got the better of me." He turned away from her, chuckling as he moved to the fridge, wondering how hung over she'd be in the morning. "So, you had a long island iced tea. Have you ever drank booze before now, Jaz?"

He opened the fridge, taking stock. A half-carton of Orange Juice sat prominently on the top shelf, and he opted for it. As he got a glass, he watched her form. A drunk Jaz, huh? Maybe his night was turning around.

"Do you like living here?"

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Matt walked towards her spot on the couch (his couch?), glass of OJ cupped in his fingers, as he gripped the top of the glass gently. Setting it on her coffee table, he sat down beside her, his hip brushing her feet. With deft hands, he unlaced and pulled her sneaker off of her foot. He sighed loudly as he manipulated her ankles, pulling off her socks too, baring her feet. One of them was notably dirty, and he shook his head.

"Where'd your shoe go?" He chuckled, his hands squeezing her ankles lightly before letting go, folding his hands in his lap. "So, do you think that we can live her? You know. For a while?"

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Matt immediately shifted, taking off each of his boots as he turned to face her, cross-legged and wide-eyed, amazed at her. She was, without a doubt, the single most powerful person that he'd ever known, in purest, layman's terms. Her ability made her a walking bomb, able to detonate at any moment, and the destruction she was capable of was awesome and terrifying to behold. He shifted closer to her, pressing his hands against her knees, letting his fingers stroke her cheeks; one bandaged, one not. The hands shifted, running down the side of her legs to cup the slender fingers wrapped around her knees, tugging on them until he held her smaller hands in his bigger, rougher ones.

When he had her full attention, he rested his own chin on her knees, meeting her eyes. All he saw was a vivid blue, and he smiled as wide as he could as he gazed at her, love filling his eyes, imagining it transferring between them.

"Forever sound okay?" He whispered, in the silence.

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Matt immediately shifted, taking off each of his boots as he turned to face her, cross-legged and wide-eyed, amazed at her. She was, without a doubt, the single most powerful person that he'd ever known, in purest, layman's terms. Her ability made her a walking bomb, able to detonate at any moment, and the destruction she was capable of was awesome and terrifying to behold.

And yet...

She was his.

He shifted closer to her, pressing his hands against her knees, letting his fingers stroke her cheeks; one bandaged, one not. The hands shifted, running down the side of her legs to cup the slender fingers wrapped around her knees, tugging on them until he held her smaller hands in his bigger, rougher ones.

When he had her full attention, he rested his own chin on her knees, meeting her eyes. All he saw was a vivid blue, and he smiled as wide as he could as he gazed at her, love filling his eyes, imagining it transferring between them.

"Forever sound okay?" He whispered, in the silence.

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Matt's response was one of eloquence. He often considered himself incredibly poetic, diplomatic, and easy going, so his speeches were oft carried to the bards and sung beneath the new moon, warbling like songbirds into the clear night sky. His war cries and snarky taunts were laughed about and repeated in bars, with raised glasses and mirth-filled, drunken gazes.

He was, in short, an amazingly good speaker.

"Uhhh..."

He was also good at sarcasm.

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Matt was on his feet, reaching to clasp her hand but watched as it slipped through his fingers. He heaved a heavy sigh, following behind her, kicking himself. He knew that he'd pay for that later, knew that he should've just said "Yes." and been done with it, knew that someone in his position would probably have done the same.

Thing was, this was Jaz he was dealing with. And he just couldn't lie to her.

As she entered the bedroom, he lagged behind, leaning against the doorframe, wincing into the darkness as his bad shoulder touched wood. Into the darkness, he spoke.

"Jaz, you're drunk. I'm beat up. Do you really think this is the best time for that... discussion?"

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"Now, that's not fair." He protested, lifting off of the doorjamb and moving into the room. "Look, I know that you-" He knew what, exactly? That she had wanted marriage? He hadn't until five seconds ago, when she mentioned it. He had thought they were on the same page; that this distance they both seemed to engineer to keep them seperated was as much for logical protection as it was for protection of the heart. If they weren't 'together', then if something... happened...

"I-" He huffed, not used to stuttering. "I'm sorry that it wasn't what you wanted to hear. I care about you. A lot. You have to know that."

He was standing in front of her now, arms folded around his stomach.

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Okay, he was starting to get a little peeved.

"Thanks for bringing that up, actually. I've wanted to talk about that for some time." He moved in front of her, his eyebrows raised, the uncomfortable thudding in his chest attributing to his agitation.

"Are we a couple?"

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Matt paused, straightening as if he was punched in the gut, his head throbbing, face hurting, bruised and nearly broken.

But a slow smile worked its way across his swollen, purple face, his eyes shining in the darkness, hands clenched tightly as the words left her lips.

He pointed towards the ground, as if amazed, and tried a word out for the first time, the smile getting bigger and goofier.

"Ours."

When the word passed his lips, his smile faded, and he faced her fully, taking a step towards her, his hand touching her shoulder.

"Then this is our apartment? Our bed? Our couch? Our coffee table, our fridge, our kitchen?" His eyes were dark, nearly smoldering, predatory in his pursuit of her responses.

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That was all there was to it.

"I... am so glad you said that."

With his other hand up on her shoulder, he marched them backwards determinedly, pushing her not-too-gently towards the bed. When she was lowered onto it, he hovered over her kissing each cheek with the same tenderness she showed him.

"I need you tonight." He whispered.

As he reached for the covers, he couldn't think of a more perfect ending to a day that began with his ass being kicked.

The setting changes from Wing City to Gambit's Bar

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There was a long silence as Matt contemplated the words.

"Well, fuck this, then." He murmured.

And then he brought the hand holding the beer glass swinging, aiming for the man's head.

Part of it was ego - like he was going to back down from a fight by some eloquent speaking dandy - and part of it was the need to feel something, even if it was rage. But the fact remained; he'd ran from conflict for so long that he'd grown tired of knowing what it was for. This man could be an agent; he could not be.

Matt was still going to beat the shit out of him.

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As Matt let go of the ruined glass, his fists curling back towards his chest, he couldn't help the sinister smile that spread across his face as the woman began to sing.

Excellent. Bar fight music.

With a sudden quick-step, Matt cocked his leg, aiming a pointed toe towards the man on the ground's ribs.

"Get the fuck up. We're duking it out."

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Getting punched in the face left a stinging sensation that stunned and sent water rushing out of Matt's eye, feeling the location of impact immediately pang, sure signs of swelling to come. Bleary eyed, instinct alone saved him from the bottle that was swung towards him; he intercepted the swinging weapon with his right hand pointed upwards, impacting on the man's arm as bone hit bone with bruising force.

The kick to the chest was unexpected, but not entirely successful as Matt leaned backwards, feeling the heel of the man's boot scrape against his rib cage, sending him off-balance and teetering towards the bar. Just as he slumped against it, however, he grabbed one of the heavy stools with both hands, hefting it like it was a bat.

Without further ado, he brought the heavy wooden thing swinging in a wide circle, aiming for the man's shoulder.

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Matt had barely enough time to flinch away from the bottle, affecting his aim as the stool bounced off of his opponent's arm and went airborne, headed in Ian's direction. He didn't have time to watch it's flight; a hop backwards avoided the sudden kick. His eyes tracked the other man as he clambered onto the bar, not comprehending what exactly the other man was planning. He grabbed another stool in his hands, just in case-

Suddenly, the man was flying in the air straight towards him. Matt barely had time to swing the stool into the air, directly into the path of the man, seat pointed outwards like a shield, hoping to deter the attack.

He wondered why he was suddenly thinking of the name David.

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Matt went down hard, but turned the drop into a sudden front-roll, tucking himself into a ball to escape the would be attack. Suddenly standing and whirling, he had enough time to see Jaz. His gaze widened and his eyebrows shot up, his mouth opening into a question, an explanation... something.

Which was understandably cut off by a bar stool smashing into the front of his head. His head snapped backwards with the blow, and he lost his balance, falling backwards onto the floor, his blood roaring in his ears.

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Matt allowed the patronizing pat, briefly, gathering his strength. Inhale, exhale. Take the weight off of your spine. Take stock of your surroundings. Deep, deep breathing. When the second pat touched his chest, Matt's hand was a scorpion strike, grabbing a fistful of the man's shirt, opening his eyes in suddenly, a grin on his face.

"Where you going?"

With a yank, Matt brought the bastard closer to him, and lunged with the crown of his head, headbutting the guy full on, forehead on nose. He then attempted a scissor kick, trying to hit the man in the gnads with his knee, all while his free hand searched for any kind of blunt instrument.

Enough with the gentleman's play. Matt was fighting dirty.

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Matt allowed the patronizing pat, briefly, gathering his strength. Inhale, exhale. Take the weight off of your spine. Take stock of your surroundings. Deep, deep breathing. When the second pat touched his chest, Matt's hand was a scorpion strike, grabbing a fistful of the man's shirt, opening his eyes in suddenly, a grin on his face.

"Where you going?"

With a yank, Matt brought the bastard closer to him, and lunged with the crown of his head, headbutting the guy full on, forehead on nose. He then attempted a scissor kick, trying to hit the man in the gnads with his knee, all while his free hand searched for any kind of blunt instrument.

Enough with the gentleman's play. Matt was fighting dirty.

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Two of the glasses cracked against the downed spy's head, bouncing and ricocheting onto the floor. There was no shattering, but a panging bruise was forming right under his eye from the force of the double hit.

He rolled the opposite way as the table crashed where he was, moments before. It was only at this time that he fully sized up his enemy, his fists curled lightly, sizing the other dude up.

"What did you expect, precisely? You're in a bar; not an opera house."

With the quip, he extended his leg, aiming the high-kick at Taylor's face, looking to press the advantage. The dude's nose was hurting, he was probably bleary eyed. If he could just tag him again...