The Hottest Thread... Ever? [Conall/Marcus]

[Isaac Kazmiruk]

The air on his sweaty brow was comforting. He was feeling pretty warm, despite the autumn conditions as he jogged down the street. Sometimes working out at the gym wasn’t enough to vent all his energy. Sometimes he just needed to feel like he was getting somewhere, like he was making progress, moving forward. When he felt like that, he went jogging.

Jogging was relaxing… for exercise. It was the most relaxing exercise he knew. He liked to go jogging at night, when the city streets were dead with silence, the streetlights casting an eerily clinical glow on the cold, hard concrete of the streets. His feet pounded the pavement as he rounded a corner.

He switched up the track on his iPod, changing to something with a heavy beat and lots of guitars. Jeez, he wasn’t sure he knew what half the stuff on it was any more. He’d filled it with so much music on impulse that he now hadn’t a clue what half of the stuff was but screw it; this was good jogging music. The heavy riffs forced him forwards, motivating him to keep going.

As he rounded a corner, he drew to a stop to rest for a couple of minutes. He looked every part the athlete despite, wearing only a vest, cycling shorts and sneakers, hardly being dressed for the season. Isaac, fortunately for him, was very adept at dealing with the cold and always had been; not through any experience or developed ability though. He just felt it a little less than most.

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, pushing back his fringe and clearing the sweat from his brow. He’d probably just finish the block before heading back to HQ for a shower and an early(ish) night. He walked over to a nearby bench and took a seat. His mouth was dry; he should have brought some water or an energy drink or something. Ah well, too late to worry about that now...

[Marcus Rodgers]

You never really
change like they say, oh
you only become
more like yourself
<>

Isaac was not the only Elite who had decided to go for a jog. The tensions between Marcus and his wife were cooling off, but they were still there, and he needed to escape them. It was late, and the cool air was refreshing. He had gone out with nothing more than a water bottle, an iPod, and the shorts he'd been wearing. He wanted to be with his wife, but she was out doing something else, something she had made a very obvious point of not telling him about. She wanted to keep secrets the way he was with the Elite.

Coming around a corner, he found Isaac resting for a moment. The younger man had become a good friend of Marcus', to Marcus' surprise. He had not expected to bond with anyone among the Elite, but he had certainly done so with Isaac, Eden, and Tyler, and of course their former colleague, Alex. Marcus had always been sort of a loner, excluding the work he'd done with Mira over the past fifteen years, so to have found friends through work was new to him. New and interesting.

The two had an assignment coming up, something about recruiting a new member. Marcus hadn't looked at all the details yet, just the basics. He had been distracted by the troubles with his home life. "Nice night for a run," he commented as he took a quick drink of water, a bit of which he poured into his hand to splash on his face. He was beginning to feel a bit sleepy, unbelievably. Perhaps it was the stress. Maybe he hadn't avoided it at all by being out here.

He'd left his phone at the HQ, and wondered whether that had been a mistake. Maybe Mira was trying to call him…. He doubted it. That would be ridiculous. They weren't high-schoolers anymore. "Women," he muttered, not to Isaac but loud enough for Isaac to hear, before taking another drink. Maybe it was liquor he needed to be swigging right now. That and a long, long nap.

</>

Word count: Too few to count.
Attire: Shorts and running shoes.
Excerpt: Jane's Addiction, "End To The Lies."
Notes:Ugh.

[Isaac Kazmiruk]

He pulled his headphones from his ears and allowed them to drop into his lap. The sounds of the city were little more than a dull, timid hum at these early hours. There was something interrupting the quiet though; a familiar sound. It was the sound of feet on pavement. It seemed Isaac was not alone in his late night run.

Sure enough, within a minute of him having noticed the sound, none other than Marcus rounded the corner into sight. Isaac smiled. If anyone could make him feel a little less stressed out, it was him... or Sidney... but that was probably a different kind of frustration.

"Nice night for a run,"

Isaac shrugged. "Better night for a kip. Can't sleep." He had found himself growing increasingly anxious of late, never so much to have kept him from sleep, like tonight, but it was a nagging anxiety and one which he struggled to ignore. He couldn't even place his finger on quite why he was feeling so ill at ease but that was of little consolation right now.

He sighed and patted the empty spot on the bench beside him. Marcus was probably still fighting with Mira. Poor guy. Finally got her onto the team and now they kept falling out. It wasn't 'the end' for them though, Isaac thought. They were still solid. It was just... difficult at the moment.

"Women," Sure enough. Something had happened. Kaz couldn't decide whether it was worth asking or whether it was best to just continue to enjoy the silence.

"You're aware you forgot to put on a shirt, right?"]

[Conall Saint Albans]

Reality hits you hard, bro.

[dropcap]He was a complete failure as a father and his relationship with Janet . . . well, it was rocky at best. She was doing all she could to push him away, but he was tenacious. The more she pushed, the more unwilling he was to give up on the life that they’d built for one another. It might not have been much, but it was all he had outside of his family across the country in California and overseas in Ireland. The last time he’d seen Davin had been on an outing in the desert after Charlotte’s kidnapping. Seeing as how he wasn’t getting anywhere with the Watchers with regards to his daughter’s disappearance, he’d taken a temporary leave of absence from the state of New York to cool off and re-evaluate his life and his priorities. Doing so had been Davin’s suggestion, and he knew that he was better off for it.

He’d spoken to Janet about it before leaving. Writing notes and leaving passive-aggressive ‘I think we need a break’ voicemails wasn’t really his bag. While he hadn’t directly told her that they needed some time apart, there was a mutual understanding that perhaps they both needed to go their separate ways if only for a few weeks in order to better sort things out on their own. Then they could regroup with more soundness of mind and less negative feelings towards one another for having allowed their daughter to be kidnapped.

Conall knew how stupid it was to think like that; they’d both done everything in their power (and more, even) to protect Charlotte and keep her safe. Both of them had put their lives on the line the day that she’d been kidnapped and that was all any parent could have hoped for. He’d made a promise to Charlotte on the day he’d taken her as his daughter that he would never give up on her to his dying breath, and Conall had never been one for abandoning his promises. Even if it took a few weeks or a few years—hell, a few decades even—he would get her back and punish those who’d caused her harm. He’d personally see to it that each member of the Rogue Society met their end under his teeth.

In times like this when money was scarce (what little he’d had after paying the rent and the bills had gone towards investing in a private investigator to look into Charlotte’s disappearance; some help that had been) and he was feeling stressed, he did what he felt was best and went for a jog. It was amazing how much a little exercise could make him feel better. Shifting wasn’t an option. At the moment, he didn’t really have a “jog appropriate” shift other than a palomino and a riderless horse would have looked more than a little strange. A yellow ostrich also would not have done, no matter how fluffy and funny it looked.

The sun was beginning to set and he knew he’d have to double back to make it back to his truck. The crisp fall weather had left a slight chill in the air that would have been intolerable to most people who were used to more temperate climates, but he welcomed it. After having been jogging for the better part of two hours, he felt like he’d run a full marathon and had already sweat completely through the layers of his clothing. The smart thing he’d done which he never remembered to do was to bring two large water bottles and a few energy bars to eat along the way. The energy bars tasted like regurgitated shit, but who was he to complain?

Down the running path in front of him, he spied a bench occupied by two men who appeared to be carrying on a conversation. Eh, he was getting pretty exhausted. Might as well hang around for a while. Neither of them appeared to have any water with them, so he figured he may as well offer. While he wasn’t normally in the business of talking to fellow joggers while he was out for a run, he’d made the trip from northern to southern California on his own and could’ve used a superficial conversation with other guys. If things got too boring or weird, he could always take off again.

He jogged to a halt and took a seat at one end of the bench, shrugging his arms out of the sporty backpack hanging from his shoulders. Unzipping it, he reached inside the large central compartment and pulled out two unopened bottles of water which he tossed to either man. “Don’ worreh. They’re not poisoned ‘r anything.” Conall opened his own bottle—a canteen of the stainless steel variety, and very vividly pink—and took a sip. “Y’ both looked thirsty an’ I always pack a few extra.”[/dropcap]

♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂

♂ Word count: 869
♂ Mood: FIRE WAS ARCING LIKE A RAINBOW.
♂ Outfit: Pink leopard print boxers.
♂ Lyrics / Quote: Reality Hits You Hard, Bro, Songify
♂ Illustrations: None.
♂ Comment / Informational links: None.

[Marcus Rodgers]

From the goodness of your heart
You saved him from the flood
A couple miles down the road
He's covered in your blood
<>

It was probably very noticeable, Marcus thought. Even before Mira had become part of their number, his teammates had been able to tell when she and Marcus had had a fight. Something changed in him, in both of them. They had been together far too long for him to manage being angry with her very well. It didn't help that he could be hot-headed just by nature. Fortunately, he knew how not to inflict his anger on others, when he cared not to. Isaac was certainly one of those people who he preferred not to use as a punching bag. Come to think of it, perhaps he did need a punching bag. A literal one, though.

He glanced to Isaac and nodded slightly as the man replied to his comment. He was only half-listening as he splashed the drinking water onto his face, then wiped it off with his hand. He was more thinking about leaving his phone behind and what Mira might be doing right now. Probably sleeping like a baby, he thought uncharitably, instantly knowing that that was wrong. She couldn't be any more comfortable than he was.

When Isaac commented on his lack of shirt, Marcus glanced at him through narrowed eyes. He hadn't forgotten to put on a shirt. The air was cool and cool air was calming. Clothes only acted as a barrier between himself and that calm. He might have jogged au naturel if he had been in the mood for getting arrested. "Oh, damn. I knew I was forgetting something when I left base," he said dryly. He would have continued with the sarcasm if he had not heard the footsteps of another jogger approaching.

The man stopped next to them and offered them each a bottle of water. Marcus accepted one, because he had just about run out of his own and because it seemed like the thing to do. "Thanks, man," he said, glancing up at the stranger and giving him a nod. That was when he noticed the very pink canteen. Had it belonged to anyone he knew, Marcus would have poked fun at it. He had material for hours on that sort of thing. However, emasculating the man over a drinking bottle did not seem like it would bring that much fun. Especially not when the man was a bit taller and a better bit more well-built than Marcus. He would not have wanted to get into a fight with this guy.

Then again, the presence of the pink bottle meant perhaps the battle would have been one of wits. That would have given Marcus some amusement. You never quite could tell with strangers. Then he noticed the pink boxers. If Marcus going shirtless was unusual, then this guy was off the charts. In a good way, of course. Maybe. "Matching water bottle and shorts. I always respect a guy with a sense for accessorizing," Marcus said in a tone that was only half-serious. He almost wanted to take a picture of the guy to show Mira later. She liked pink, and accessorizing; she would definitely appreciate this. "Don't you think so, Kaz?"

</>

Word count: 524.
Attire: Shorts and running shoes.
Excerpt: Cage the Elephant, "Always Something."
Notes: lol.