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transemacabreNOW COMPLETE. Rated M for Mature Themes. Don't read unless you're a SICK SICK person. (now I know you'll read it)
UPDATE: Part V is now done!
I. TECHNOPHILIA
In the halcyon days, when Zemo was still eviler than your average bear and Techno was still a robot, they found themselves slumming it South of the Border. Techno transformed into a car "to facilitate transportation" as Zemo put it (he always spoke as though he learned English from reading engineering books). As they were cruising along, Techno flickered his radio on and started flipping through stations.
I've been really trying, baby
Trying to hold back these feelings for so long
And if you feel, like I feel baby
Come on, oh come on
"Eh?" said Zemo. "What is this throbbing Negro music?"
"Marvin Gaye," replied Techno, who having finally settled on a station, was content to let the music play on.
"It's ridiculous. Change this station immediately! Find something with... Wagner. Yes, Wagner."
"Hey, I like this song! And I'm your ally, not your slave. So I'll play whatever I want."
Zemo grasped the drive stick firmly but it didn't budge an inch. "Techno!" he cried. "Your stick is immobile."
"Really? Well, just jiggle it some more... yeah, like that!"
Zemo continued wiggling the drive stick back and forth, but it didn't seem to move at all. Frustrated, he pumped the gas pedal to get Techno's attention. Techno's engine purred loudly.
"It'll work in a sec!" Techno assured him. "Just keep it up!"
Zemo frowned and cursed to himself in German. His grip was strong, and yet the stick did not move. He even grasped the base and pulled with all his might, grunting. Meanwhile, Marvin Gaye was crooning, "There's nothing wrong with me loving you, and giving yourself to me can never be wrong, if the love is true..."
"Uh, boss?" Techno asked. "Could you -- stick your hand in my glove compartment?"
"What?! I don't see how that will accomplish anything!"
"Just do it, okay!"
Grumbling, Zemo stretched across the seat, slid his fingers under the rim of the glove compartment, popped it open, and pushed his hand in, feeling around tentatively. RRrrrrrr went Techno's engine.
II. TWOFOURFIVE.
After all the battles against hopeless odds, the uncertainty of whether any of them would make it out alive, and all the heartbreaks and losses the Exiles had faced over the last few months, their time in Reality #245 was actually quite peaceful. Their mission was simple and accomplished in a couple of days, with ample assistance from that reality's resident heroes. They finished up so far ahead of schedule that the Exiles even got some downtime to rest and relax.
This world's Avengers had insisted on throwing them a gala luncheon, so the Exiles were enjoying dinner at Tony Stark's palatial mansion. TJ Wagner didn't have much of an appetite, so she had picked at her food until the Avenger they called Iron Cross had approached her and said something to her in German. TJ laughed and said, "My dad is German, but I'm not fluent."
"Such a pity," said Iron Cross, smiling widely. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly. I am Helmut Zemo."
They spoke of his world, and her team's odyssey, and of James Joyce. TJ liked him. She liked him a lot. Maybe it was the way his accent reminded her of her father's, or the way his blond hair and blue eyes made him look nothing like John, lost to her, comatose, worlds away. They sat together, talking softly, and she didn't draw away when he took her hand in his.
A woman with dark red hair and skin like cream floated through the crowd. "Helmut, my love," she said. For a moment TJ thought there was going to be a scene, but Helmut didn't miss a beat.
"Bethany, please meet Talia Wagner, one of the Exiles visiting our reality. Talia, this is my paramour, Bethany Cabe."
"So pleased to meet you," Bethany said, and her gaze lingered like her perfume. Bethany took two champagne glasses from a passing waiter, and offered one to TJ. Their hands touched, Bethany's fingers warming TJ's palm and making her skin prickle deliciously. Helmut's arms entwined around Bethany's waist and they swayed together with the music.
When they asked her to come back with them to their room, TJ sipped her champagne and said, "Yes, I will, yes."
Bethany's dress strap slipped down her shoulder, revealing a perfect curve of white skin, and Helmut kissed her right where her pulse throbbed in the hollow of her throat. There were lips on TJ's lips, their lips on her lips, and lips between her legs, and she sighed and said, yes I will yes.
III. DOUBLE VISION.
He's as beautiful as his sister, the same fine blond hair and even features, the same too full bottom lip. Raging, spitting like a cat, natural-born prey trying to be a predator.
Helmut knows if he were to reach out, Andreas would go still under his touch, weak and limber-legged.
She's caught in that most tender of times, a girl not ripened into womanhood. Helmut remembers her as she was when he saw her last, several years before, Baron von Strucker's daughter with the coltishly long legs. She's taller, rounded in the body, and she licks her lower lip in a way that makes him warm in the belly.
He catches her alone, presses her to a wall, too hard, fumbling hands. She's as wanton as he had hoped. Hitches her skirt up, his kiss draws blood from her lips.
She trembles. Eyes wide, Andrea pushes him away.
Andreas draws closer, lips red, his breath warm on Helmut's neck.
Helmut pushes him away.
IV. LOVE YOU TO
Why is it that it took him this long to see how lovely she is? Stripped of her fright wig, stripped of makeup, stripped of supervillainess and superheroine, stripped of everything, she is the most beautiful woman he has ever made love to.
Melissa...
She washes away her masks and moves to kiss him, and he puts on his mask and meets her lips.
Melissa...
"I love you to death," she breathes into his neck. The lie is sweet to hear. He's too fast, too rough with her, but he doesn't know how to be more tender. Her legs wrap around him. Closer, closer. Bodies slide together, apart, le petit mort. Deep shakey breaths from both of them. She presses kisses, the sweetest kisses, gently across his face, a thousand kisses down his neck. A touch of teeth, the ghost of a knife pressed to his neck. She lays back, sated, and sleeps.
"Melissa," Helmut says, and she stirs. He brushes the hair from her face. "You will be the death of me," he tells her.
V. MEANT TO BE
Zemo took one look at Spoiler and thought, this is fate.
The cataclysm that had slammed their respective universes together had set Zemo and Spoiler on a collision-course of their own. They had met on the rooftops of that black and twisted city, Spoiler's territory, but the night had belonged to Zemo. Only he had the power to unmesh their worlds, to set right the wrongs, to return what is to what was. She had to see that, understand that fundamental truth, or they were all lost. She guided him through this world, her world, where the air did not smell right nor the water taste right, along the alleys and caves of her native city.
In her purple costume, blonde hair tossing in the wind, Spoiler looked like the sister Zemo could've had, if his mother had lived to give him one. She did not seem afraid of him, even knowing, somehow, instinctively, that Zemo was not hailed as a hero on his world. She was a woman accoustomed to being in the presence of dangerous men. The glow of the moonstones provided the only light; Spoiler was all shadows and snatches of purple. Stillness in the air, calm before the storm. He can almost hear the blood rushing through his veins, hear her deep breaths that make her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.
Her eyes reflected the light of his moonstones as she touched his jaw with her fingertips. "I wear masks, too," she whispered, and Zemo reached out to her. Spoiler was unafraid. Fate.
***
NOTES: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
remix17 for inspiration and the title for Technophilia. Twofourfive was inspired by one of the pairings from my 12 character meme, Bethany Cabe/Helmut Zemo/TJ Wagner.
UPDATE: Part V is now done!
I. TECHNOPHILIA
In the halcyon days, when Zemo was still eviler than your average bear and Techno was still a robot, they found themselves slumming it South of the Border. Techno transformed into a car "to facilitate transportation" as Zemo put it (he always spoke as though he learned English from reading engineering books). As they were cruising along, Techno flickered his radio on and started flipping through stations.
I've been really trying, baby
Trying to hold back these feelings for so long
And if you feel, like I feel baby
Come on, oh come on
"Eh?" said Zemo. "What is this throbbing Negro music?"
"Marvin Gaye," replied Techno, who having finally settled on a station, was content to let the music play on.
"It's ridiculous. Change this station immediately! Find something with... Wagner. Yes, Wagner."
"Hey, I like this song! And I'm your ally, not your slave. So I'll play whatever I want."
Zemo grasped the drive stick firmly but it didn't budge an inch. "Techno!" he cried. "Your stick is immobile."
"Really? Well, just jiggle it some more... yeah, like that!"
Zemo continued wiggling the drive stick back and forth, but it didn't seem to move at all. Frustrated, he pumped the gas pedal to get Techno's attention. Techno's engine purred loudly.
"It'll work in a sec!" Techno assured him. "Just keep it up!"
Zemo frowned and cursed to himself in German. His grip was strong, and yet the stick did not move. He even grasped the base and pulled with all his might, grunting. Meanwhile, Marvin Gaye was crooning, "There's nothing wrong with me loving you, and giving yourself to me can never be wrong, if the love is true..."
"Uh, boss?" Techno asked. "Could you -- stick your hand in my glove compartment?"
"What?! I don't see how that will accomplish anything!"
"Just do it, okay!"
Grumbling, Zemo stretched across the seat, slid his fingers under the rim of the glove compartment, popped it open, and pushed his hand in, feeling around tentatively. RRrrrrrr went Techno's engine.
II. TWOFOURFIVE.
After all the battles against hopeless odds, the uncertainty of whether any of them would make it out alive, and all the heartbreaks and losses the Exiles had faced over the last few months, their time in Reality #245 was actually quite peaceful. Their mission was simple and accomplished in a couple of days, with ample assistance from that reality's resident heroes. They finished up so far ahead of schedule that the Exiles even got some downtime to rest and relax.
This world's Avengers had insisted on throwing them a gala luncheon, so the Exiles were enjoying dinner at Tony Stark's palatial mansion. TJ Wagner didn't have much of an appetite, so she had picked at her food until the Avenger they called Iron Cross had approached her and said something to her in German. TJ laughed and said, "My dad is German, but I'm not fluent."
"Such a pity," said Iron Cross, smiling widely. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly. I am Helmut Zemo."
They spoke of his world, and her team's odyssey, and of James Joyce. TJ liked him. She liked him a lot. Maybe it was the way his accent reminded her of her father's, or the way his blond hair and blue eyes made him look nothing like John, lost to her, comatose, worlds away. They sat together, talking softly, and she didn't draw away when he took her hand in his.
A woman with dark red hair and skin like cream floated through the crowd. "Helmut, my love," she said. For a moment TJ thought there was going to be a scene, but Helmut didn't miss a beat.
"Bethany, please meet Talia Wagner, one of the Exiles visiting our reality. Talia, this is my paramour, Bethany Cabe."
"So pleased to meet you," Bethany said, and her gaze lingered like her perfume. Bethany took two champagne glasses from a passing waiter, and offered one to TJ. Their hands touched, Bethany's fingers warming TJ's palm and making her skin prickle deliciously. Helmut's arms entwined around Bethany's waist and they swayed together with the music.
When they asked her to come back with them to their room, TJ sipped her champagne and said, "Yes, I will, yes."
Bethany's dress strap slipped down her shoulder, revealing a perfect curve of white skin, and Helmut kissed her right where her pulse throbbed in the hollow of her throat. There were lips on TJ's lips, their lips on her lips, and lips between her legs, and she sighed and said, yes I will yes.
III. DOUBLE VISION.
He's as beautiful as his sister, the same fine blond hair and even features, the same too full bottom lip. Raging, spitting like a cat, natural-born prey trying to be a predator.
Helmut knows if he were to reach out, Andreas would go still under his touch, weak and limber-legged.
She's caught in that most tender of times, a girl not ripened into womanhood. Helmut remembers her as she was when he saw her last, several years before, Baron von Strucker's daughter with the coltishly long legs. She's taller, rounded in the body, and she licks her lower lip in a way that makes him warm in the belly.
He catches her alone, presses her to a wall, too hard, fumbling hands. She's as wanton as he had hoped. Hitches her skirt up, his kiss draws blood from her lips.
She trembles. Eyes wide, Andrea pushes him away.
Andreas draws closer, lips red, his breath warm on Helmut's neck.
Helmut pushes him away.
IV. LOVE YOU TO
Why is it that it took him this long to see how lovely she is? Stripped of her fright wig, stripped of makeup, stripped of supervillainess and superheroine, stripped of everything, she is the most beautiful woman he has ever made love to.
Melissa...
She washes away her masks and moves to kiss him, and he puts on his mask and meets her lips.
Melissa...
"I love you to death," she breathes into his neck. The lie is sweet to hear. He's too fast, too rough with her, but he doesn't know how to be more tender. Her legs wrap around him. Closer, closer. Bodies slide together, apart, le petit mort. Deep shakey breaths from both of them. She presses kisses, the sweetest kisses, gently across his face, a thousand kisses down his neck. A touch of teeth, the ghost of a knife pressed to his neck. She lays back, sated, and sleeps.
"Melissa," Helmut says, and she stirs. He brushes the hair from her face. "You will be the death of me," he tells her.
V. MEANT TO BE
Zemo took one look at Spoiler and thought, this is fate.
The cataclysm that had slammed their respective universes together had set Zemo and Spoiler on a collision-course of their own. They had met on the rooftops of that black and twisted city, Spoiler's territory, but the night had belonged to Zemo. Only he had the power to unmesh their worlds, to set right the wrongs, to return what is to what was. She had to see that, understand that fundamental truth, or they were all lost. She guided him through this world, her world, where the air did not smell right nor the water taste right, along the alleys and caves of her native city.
In her purple costume, blonde hair tossing in the wind, Spoiler looked like the sister Zemo could've had, if his mother had lived to give him one. She did not seem afraid of him, even knowing, somehow, instinctively, that Zemo was not hailed as a hero on his world. She was a woman accoustomed to being in the presence of dangerous men. The glow of the moonstones provided the only light; Spoiler was all shadows and snatches of purple. Stillness in the air, calm before the storm. He can almost hear the blood rushing through his veins, hear her deep breaths that make her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.
Her eyes reflected the light of his moonstones as she touched his jaw with her fingertips. "I wear masks, too," she whispered, and Zemo reached out to her. Spoiler was unafraid. Fate.
***
NOTES: Thanks to
remix17 for inspiration and the title for Technophilia. Twofourfive was inspired by one of the pairings from my 12 character meme, Bethany Cabe/Helmut Zemo/TJ Wagner.
