Shorkgirl

That Queer Shark 🏳️‍⚧️☭∍⧽⧼∊🦈

  • Sidhe/Fae/They

Oh Yeah, Our name is Aellae on Discord.

A House of Madness
If I am not I
Then who am I
Jewish
Gay Poetry Nerd
Still Searching for Arcadia
Distinctly Abnormal

My Scribblings
Gallery that has Aellae Screenshots - Including the NSFW ones.
✡ - ϴ⨺ - Plural - Poly - 44 T1D

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Korps Agent West Coast

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Feel free to ask us anything!
Interact with me? Yes, I luv it
In FFXIV a lot of the time
Moon Code : B4ENK65XV4
Carrd : https://aellae-catte.carrd.co/#
Aellae's Mostly IC Place:
@Dispatches-From-Amaurot


Sunday August 12th, 2001 - The Dead of Night

The beast came to a stop up the street from the destination. If the smoking lady had done her job. The Just Soldier would already be here. She was in a part of San Francisco she would not normally go to. The city had allowed the once imposing edifice of the former home of the San Francisco Giants to edge ever closer to the precipice of true decline. As it stood the concrete titan was fraying at the edges. The truly massive parking lot that surrounded the structure would provide ample and empty space for what was going to happen. The high pressure ridge still cloyed to the evening air with the tenacity of a weighted blanket that the city by the bay could just not kick off in her slumber.

Unlike her first dance of the evening, where she had to wait for her date to arrive, The Just Soldier was waiting for her. If nothing else, the Kangaroo was punctual, well, that wasn’t fair, The Just Soldier was many things from her perspective. Cold, unfeeling, dispassionate to a fault, he was also ripped and built like a brick shithouse. Of course a diet of government wheaties and experimental genetic treatments will do that to someone.

It was her footsteps that heralded her presence. Each one echoed out in the abandoned parking lot, the hero slowly turning to face her as the sound reached his ears. The warm night wind off the bay yanked at the tails of the lightweight duster that he wore, to his credit, he hid his surprise well, there was the hint of it in his eyes.

“Sharks don’t have nine lives. I should have made sure I finished the job.” The Kangaroo slowly rolled his head, and then shoulders, clearly limbering himself up. The leather of his boots protested the motion of his calves captured inside their shanks while the spandex of that white jumpsuit with the red bear and star over the chest gave away every single one of those powerful cords that made up his thighs. “A mistake I won’t be repeating, anything to say before I hammer you under the pavement?”

Minerva’s voice rang out clear as the day that was yet to come. “Joseph Knox-Trudeau.” A name. That was all she had to say? The bruiser of the Bay Area Superbrigade put those thighs of his to use. His legs pumping, sprinting the distance to where the denim and t-shirt clad murderer was standing. His hand drawing back to pummel that strangely sad smile off her face. However, when that punch came, there was no target there for him to hit. She was standing three feet to his right.

That voice sounded like the bells of Misión de San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo. “Devorah Knox-Trudeau.” The hero wheeled around. Bringing his left hand up in what should have been a crushing uppercut. One he knew his fans would surely have cheered if they could have seen it. And yet, the underside of the snout it should have dislocated was simply not there. He caught nothing but empty air sending him into a stumble. Had he not had his tail to balance, he would have been face first into that pavement. This bitch wasn’t a super, was she? She had to be, there was no other explanation for what was happening! She was moving too fast for him even to see the motion of her body. His anger was boiling over, he was being toyed with. His teeth set in a rictus grin of frothing frustration.

“Stand still God Damn you!” That knotting pit of anger in his belly rippled with his muscles as he came about one more time when she entered his peripheral vision. His final attempt to hit her manifested as a haymaker that should have taken her head off. As it passed right through her face, he heard her voice again, from two locations.

From directly before him. “Thala Knox-Trudeau.” And then from directly behind him. “And I’m High-Tide.” Her hammer sang in the air before sending the brute crashing from consciousness to the asphalt under their feet.

The remembered conversation, the explanation of the plan. The gift of the fob and the explanation of how it worked, as well as what to do with those Rose Coloured Goggles was still clear in her mind as it had been the prior morning. The assurance from the Smoking Woman that no Korps Agent is ever sent out alone and unprepared to the field. It seemed so far that the woman was as good as her word.

His head would be ringing, but that blow wasn’t enough to kill a super soldier. Rob him of his senses? Certainly it could do that. The plan had worked just as the smoking woman had promised it would. The little keyfob hanging from the ring Minerva had around her pinkie blinked twice, and the battery powering it faded. Her hammer was lowered down to a ready, and then she let it rest on its head on the pavement. The fob slipped into her pocket. She then swiftly went to work, tying those hands and ankles together with a spool of paracord, just like she’d been instructed, nice and secure so The Just Soldier wouldn’t slip them. After the seconds that crawled like an age, she had him rolled onto his back. From her knapsack she pulled out that set of Rose Coloured Goggles. She didn’t know what they would do precisely, but the assurances that they would pacify The Just Soldier were taken at face value. The smoking woman hadn’t lied to her thus far. She could hear that groan from the fallen hero. Her eyes moved slowly up to his face.

“You never gave me a chance to explain a damn thing. Why I was there- I don’t know what’s going to happen to you when I put these on your face. But I know that someone who helped me wants me to do it. So buckle up buttercup. You’re going to see rose.” The Just Soldier wasn’t even given a chance to comprehend before the RCG’s were on his face. The speakers over his ears. His world, before he realised it, was ROSE. Minerva, the parking lot, everything faded, and he was still. A look of dawning wonder sliding across his muzzle.

The scent of clove cigarettes assaulted the night air. She really never does stop! Crowed Minerva’s thoughts as the realisation dawned on her that she wasn’t alone physically with The Just Soldier.

“High-Tide? I like that. It suits you.”

As she glanced over her shoulder, Minerva finally got her first good look at the woman who had rescued her, and helped her start back on a road that was not precisely one of recovery, but of at least facing the issues before her. Her appearance was everything that Minerva had not been expecting. In any situation in the city the Opossum would simply vanish into the crowd. The brown business suit, the boxy glasses, the sensibly cut hair, the simple leather purse hanging from her shoulder, completing the look were the dark stockings and black leather penny flats. With this look she could be an accountant, a lawyer, a librarian, a teacher, nearly anyone utterly ordinary and easily overlooked with the added bonus of any truly distinguishing physical feature vanishing in its dowdiness.

“As for our friend, I’ll make sure he doesn’t go anywhere he shouldn’t. You go fetch your car. We’ll need to make sure both you and our friend here vanish before much longer.” The shark moved to open her mouth, but the Opossum held up a single finger. A smile touching her lips around that cigarette, her eyes twinkling in the guttering light of the incandescent street lamps of the parking lot.

“You may refer to me as Recruiter 17. Don’t ruin the promising start by questioning me now. You will have every answer you could have wanted soon.”

And with that admonition, the shark set to jogging right back to her beast that was waiting for her on the street. It was not the shortest run she’d ever taken, the parking lot was massive and she’d parked far enough away so as to not alert her foe. She was elated, she’d won! She’d succeeded in not only taking down Jack Pappen, but also The Just Soldier! Not to mention all those bastards at Drachengaard before she’d been rudely interrupted. There was something hollow to it all though. That pit in her heart was still there, and her family was still gone.

As gone as The Just Soldier and Recruiter 17 were when she pulled into that parking lot. All that was left where they had been was her knapsack, hammer, and a small duffle bag she did not recognize. She put the beast in neutral, turned off the engine, and pulled the e-brake into place. She climbed out from that driver's seat.

The shark seized her lower lip in her teeth as she went down to a knee, in a swift motion she worked the zipper of that duffle bag open. It felt like every trope in a heist movie she’d ever watched. Sure enough, there was cash in that bag, that was not all. There was a screwdriver, a pair of licence plates from Ontario, a driver's licence from that same province as well as a passport. One more item was also resting in that bag: a pair of Rose Coloured Goggles. Shaped ever so slightly different from those that she’d set upon The Just Soldier. The position of the ear pieces, the broadness of the snout bridge. Her throat tightened, she felt almost that she couldn’t pass air to her gills. This set was clearly for her, and there was an expectation in that bag resting there. She slowly exhaled. Her shirt ruffled from the air leaving those gill slits on her sides.

The screwdriver was taken up in her hand as well as those plates, first things first, make that car less recognizable. It took maybe five minutes to give the beast its new identity and hide the old plates in the spare tire well, along with her old licence. Her gaze passed over her new ID, she would have to figure out where the hell 77 Boulton Drive, Toronto Ontario was. She shoved the licence into her wallet and then tossed the wallet and the passport into her backpack, which went back onto the passenger seat of the car. She slipped her hammer into the duffle bag with the money, but not before taking out those goggles, the bag was safely stowed in the trunk of the car. That was all taken care of now, there was only one thing that remained. With her back against the closed driver side door of the beast, Minerva Knox-Trudeau slid down to a seat on the ground.

Her hands brought those goggles up and set them into place.

Her world became ROSE.


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