Summary: Randomly selected were twenty-five of the one hundred prompts. Each prompt will involve Scarlett and Snake Eyes from G.I. Joe Renegades.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything G.I. Joe Renegades related, only the ideas that were furnished from my imagination.
Author's Note: I am only familiar with G.I. Joe Renegades, so if something clashes with another G.I. Joe medium, I'm sorry.
October 14, 2011
Chapter 1: Innocence
Three months after the collapse of Cobra, Scarlett was visiting her father, Dr. O'Hara. Debriefing the 'higher ups' was more tedious than any of the Joes had anticipated. By the time they were relinquished, each one had requested a leave absence. Snake Eyes was approached by the military for recruitment, but the black-clad ninja declined. He was a lone wolf, always . . . though, sometimes, like this, he wished otherwise.
Despite her significant amount of training, his redheaded pupil failed to recognize his arrival at her new home in Toccoa, Georgia. The home spoke of old southern hospitality: formal furniture, little electronic machinery inside, and of course, an expansive land surrounding the property for outdoor parties.
Snake Eyes titled his head, his hand supporting him while he leaned to watch the sun shine down on the duo. The Ninjistu specialist couldn't hear the tittering between father and daughter, but he didn't need to hear them – their expressions told their whole conversation.
Scarlett laughed, easing into the makeshift swing; Dr. Charles O'Hara moving behind her. Every action was flawlessly precise and flowing, a dance of making memories. Her burgundy colored blouse and faded jeans warped the time back several decades, a time that was perhaps the most treasured by the travelers. Charles rolled up the sleeves of his work shirt as one may do when preparing for an arduous task.
Snake Eyes inhaled sharply, catching himself lurching forward, subconsciously drawn into the moment. But no, he didn't want to interject, yet. Regaining his balance, as per custom, the guardian of Scarlett, Snake Eyes, assessed the safety of the swing. He trusted that Dr. O'Hara had garnered the rope securely, but double checking never hurt, even if only from a visual standpoint.
In the rustle of tree leaves that were washed in yellows, oranges, and reds, the aging scientist gave one good heave, starting his fully grown, and beautiful (in Snake Eye's opinion) daughter on the swing. Everything part of nature seemed to lean and focus on them, the rays of sun reflecting off the warm colored trees on to them, giving Scarlett a ethereal, golden glow. The yellow mooring rope burned against the large branch it was knotted around, the sanded plank of wood that made a seat viewed the scene as Scarlett rose higher and higher. Charles stretched high, his finger tips just grasping the edge of the seat for him to give his daughter another burst of propulsion into the air. Though Scarlett was using her legs, Charles insisted he help.
Ironic laughs and tensions released through loud chortles from the pair. Snake Eyes stepped onto the deck finally, a good twenty-five yards from them. No longer could he be an observer. He wasn't looking to join, but his body seemed to move on its own toward them. On cue, Scarlett turned her head and spotted the decked out spy, fully in uniform.
Not ceasing to stop swinging, she smiled – a smile unlike any she had graced him with before. Her lips curled and eyes twinkling of a life not corrupted by pain – it was childlike.
The ninja hesitated to move closer, he didn't want to destroy the father and daughter moment. His fears were settled when she quickly beckoned him over with her hand, her father waving to him excitedly. Scarlett continued on the swing and her father continued to push as Snake Eyes closed the distance between them.
In the battling for their freedom and dabbling with death overlying the disappearance of man involved in a debilitating relationship with his daughter – Snake Eyes found the one thing he swore was gone – he found the innocent, inner child of Scarlett O'Hara. In spite of everything, in the small act of being pushed at twenty three years old by her middle aged father, innocence once buried sprouted again in his especially cared for charge.
~ End Prompt 1
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