Post by shadejak on Oct 3, 2021 1:09:10 GMT -7
Galina was not overly fond of her accommodations, to say the least. There'd been a time where she practically lived like a celebrity in a very comfortable and sophisticated base with the rest of the Winter Guard, where her every need was met with the press of a button or a word loud enough for the voice recognition to hear. Those days were over, now, though, when she'd since traded all that for a small studio apartment in New York. Far from "the projects", but definitely nowhere near what she had, but an unfortunate necessity in order to lay low. The last thing she needed was to get the Avengers' attention, or any of the government's other dogs enforcing that ridiculous SRA.
"How things have changed," she mused aloud as those thoughts came to mind, taking a shot of the whiskey she'd bought at a nearby store as she lay on her bed, her back propped against the pillows placed against the frame. How in the world had Galina Nemirovsky gone from respected hero to a fugitive? They called it insubordination, she'd called it pragmatism. Titanium Man deserved that beating, after all. It seemed all governments loved nothing more then to have as much power over their people as possible.
Her blue eyes turned towards the Armor Matrix sitting on the chair nearby. The power she had with the armor, for all intents and purposes she shouldn't even be afraid of anyone anymore. She hated feeling fear, it reminded her of all those years ago. Her father... her mother... siblings... all of them cut down by the mafia over some protection racket they were forcing on where she lived. Nothing was done, it was part of why she'd wanted to be a hero, she thought to herself.
Now... she took another shot. ...Galina doubted she could be considered one, anymore. It'd be an interesting conversation and probably a gamble to offer to help enforce the SRA in exchange for asylum, to say the least, even if the Ultra-Dynamo armor was little more then a few chunks of worthless scrap, now, Russia was unlikely to forgive. Setting her glass on the nightstand, the young woman brought her knees up, resting her chin atop them. She still didn't see how she could get discharged but her choices after cemented there was no going back to how things were short of a miracle of Russia having a task only she could carry out that she could barter a clean slate for. That left what she did now...
She felt restless. It'd been a while since she'd done anything to relieve the stress brought on by bad memories. That imperialist swine Tony had enemies, too many of them arrogant to think they could challenge him alone, now. Even she knew attacking him head-on with his connections and all was suicide at the moment. She took her phone and scanned through the messages, seeing any potential hits for any tasks that'd at least give her a fat paycheck and be worth her while. Thankfully, there were two, spaced far apart she could likely do both, easily under major Avenger radar.
She pushed away her earlier thoughts as she typed up her replies. It was what she did with difficult memories and emotions, bury them and deal with them another time...
Such emotions were weakness, and Galina could not abide weakness.
"How things have changed," she mused aloud as those thoughts came to mind, taking a shot of the whiskey she'd bought at a nearby store as she lay on her bed, her back propped against the pillows placed against the frame. How in the world had Galina Nemirovsky gone from respected hero to a fugitive? They called it insubordination, she'd called it pragmatism. Titanium Man deserved that beating, after all. It seemed all governments loved nothing more then to have as much power over their people as possible.
Her blue eyes turned towards the Armor Matrix sitting on the chair nearby. The power she had with the armor, for all intents and purposes she shouldn't even be afraid of anyone anymore. She hated feeling fear, it reminded her of all those years ago. Her father... her mother... siblings... all of them cut down by the mafia over some protection racket they were forcing on where she lived. Nothing was done, it was part of why she'd wanted to be a hero, she thought to herself.
Now... she took another shot. ...Galina doubted she could be considered one, anymore. It'd be an interesting conversation and probably a gamble to offer to help enforce the SRA in exchange for asylum, to say the least, even if the Ultra-Dynamo armor was little more then a few chunks of worthless scrap, now, Russia was unlikely to forgive. Setting her glass on the nightstand, the young woman brought her knees up, resting her chin atop them. She still didn't see how she could get discharged but her choices after cemented there was no going back to how things were short of a miracle of Russia having a task only she could carry out that she could barter a clean slate for. That left what she did now...
She felt restless. It'd been a while since she'd done anything to relieve the stress brought on by bad memories. That imperialist swine Tony had enemies, too many of them arrogant to think they could challenge him alone, now. Even she knew attacking him head-on with his connections and all was suicide at the moment. She took her phone and scanned through the messages, seeing any potential hits for any tasks that'd at least give her a fat paycheck and be worth her while. Thankfully, there were two, spaced far apart she could likely do both, easily under major Avenger radar.
She pushed away her earlier thoughts as she typed up her replies. It was what she did with difficult memories and emotions, bury them and deal with them another time...
Such emotions were weakness, and Galina could not abide weakness.
