Supergirl x M!Reader (Book 2)

So Neanderthals DO Still Exist!

Jörvintir's POV

J'onn: Hey, Jörvintir, could you help one of the newer agents with restocking and maintenance?

Jörvintir: I'm one of the best, if not THE best asset you have in your arsenal in terms of field experience, and you want me to stock shelves? J'onn, what the fuck?

He raised his hands in a placating manner.

J'onn: I know, I know. But this is only temporary, I swear it. Plus the other operatives might warm up to you a tad if you willingly assist them.

Jörvintir: I don't give two death merchants what these bacteria sacks think of me. If you work in a place like this, and can't properly clean and stock a weapon? You need to be fired. Period!

J'onn: Jörvintir, please.

I rolled my eyes. This had got to be the dumbest thing!

Jörvintir: Fine. But, don't think this is a reoccurring thing.

J'onn: What do you take me for?

Jörvintir: A fool.

That was the last thing I said to him before taking my leave, heading down to the armory. Outside of the armory door was both a cart with cleaning supplies, and another with tons of files and paperwork.

Jörvintir: 'Honestly, I'm not a damned secretary. Or a janitor.'

I walked into the room after taking a few folders with forms in them, and grabbed a pen too. I decided to start to the far left of the room. My eyes quickly scanned all the of guns on the wall and then I opened the folder and began scribbling onto the form. I continued to do this for about five more minutes before the other operative walked in.

Operative: Oh! I didn't think that Director Henshaw would actually send someone down to help! It's nice to see you here, though!

I turned to him, lips poised and ready to tell him that I preferred silence while working, but the moment he saw my face, he clammed up, and fear seized his entire being. I watched him, apathetically, giving him the chance to school himself. He did after a few seconds, yet the color was still absent from his face.

Jörvintir: Are you well, Operative? I don't mind doing this by my lonesome.

He continued to watch me like a grotesque horror sequence, and gulped audibly before turning away from me, grabbing what he needed to do maintenance on the weapons. I ignored his rudeness.

Jörvintir: I've already inspected the weapons on the left side of the room. They don't need cleaning, and are fully operational. All that's left is the right and center.

He continued to ignore me and kept on with his task. This however didn't bother me and I kept on as well. We worked in silence for the remainder of our obligations and exchanged no more words. I heard what sounded like him fiddling with something behind me. I turned around.

And was met with a pistol right in my face.

Jörvintir: So the snake finally decided to strike. You've been so quiet this entire time. Were you working up the courage to do this?

Operative: English, dammit! SPEAK ENGLISH YOU DAMNED COCKROACH!!

Jörvintir: My, my, Operative...

I trailed off, trying to see his name tag and failed.

Jörvintir: ...Whatever the fuck. Don't you think this is a bit...extreme? I did just help you, after all.

He grimaced, baring his teeth.

Operative: No way. No fucking way did the Director send some...freak down here to help me...

I frowned, displeased, and then rolled my eyes.

Jörvintir: With all due respect, Operative, I didn't want to help you anyway. The Director practically strong armed me into doing this.

Operative: I don't give a fuck..!

He prodded the barrel with my lips. I denied him access.

Operative: Open....your fucking...mouth.

I locked eyes with him as I did.

Operative: How does it feel to be powerless? Human? Huh? This....this is how you space freaks make us feel. How do you like it?

He shoved the barrel in.

Jörvintir: If you're going to shoot me, then shoot me. This is just insulting.

I managed to speak around the barrel. His finger twitched on the trigger and my eyes narrowed dangerously. Just as he was about to actually pull the trigger, I pushed his entire arm up and moved it to the left in one swift motion. Our eyes met for a brief second as I both squeezed and twisted his wrist forcing him to drop the gun. He cried out in pain as I put my right hand around his neck, picked him up, and choke slammed him. I put my left knee on his right arm that was holding the gun. His eyes were blown wide with a mix of surprise and fear.

Jörvintir: I think that's a new record. You didn't even get to shoot a shot off. I think Agent Danvers would be proud of me!

The man under me gurgled, and I gave him my attention, just remembering he was there.

Jörvintir: And you. What the hell is your issue? I just helped you and now you're trying to shoot me? What if I hadn't thought as fast as I did? Then what? You'd have been charged for murder and discharged. Not only that, but they're would be two lives worth of blood on your hands! Damn you humans!

I ranted as I rose from the hold I had on him. But it proved to be a few seconds too late as another Detective of higher rank watched the exchange with wide eyes.

Detective Silo: You.

He pointed to me.

Detective Silo: With me. Now. And you.

He pointed to the Neanderthal I roughed up.

Detective Silo: Get yourself cleaned up and put in an incident report. ASAP.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Detective Silo: For the last time, Kid, tell me what the hell's gotten into you?

Jörvintir: For the last time, Detective, nothing's 'gotten into me'. One of your subordinates was being an ass, and I put him in his place. It's that simple.

Detective Silo: Don't you think it's a bit immature to lay hands on anyone who gives you a hard time?

Jörvintir: And don't you think it's a bit redundant to work with an agency that specializes in assisting extraterrestrials when you yourself are xenophobic?

I raised my eyebrow to make it clear that it wasn't rhetorical.

Detective Silo: *Sighs* I'll talk to him about it, but don't expect this to be a permanent fix. You need to get your emotions under control, and keep your hands off of him.

Jörvintir: 'I change my mind. This has got to be the dumbest thing...'

Jörvintir: Honestly, the asshole might as well go into space knowing he can't breath. Why does he work here?

The detective left without answering my question. He left me in the interrogation room, wrists handcuffed to the table. I looked down at my wrists, slightly tugging on the cuffs. I couldn't break out because they had the heat on, the cheeky bastards. But, knowing myself I would've left during the interrogation, so I guess this was a necessary measure. Even still, looking at the cuffs brought back...unsavory memories.