McCoy

@mccoy-bli

Exterminator trainee.

476 posts

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⌛️| About | Lore |⌛️

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

He ignores the kiss for the most part—his hands falling back down to his own chest. For a moment he closes his eyes and struggles to open them again, his energy waning. "I thought the place was empty."

The wound isn't deep enough to have caused any serious damage, but it's still bleeding pretty heavily and more than likely needs stitches.

A quiet, humorless laugh escapes him. "And I thought this was gonna be a quick mission."

he speaks gently as he cleans up the wound to get a better look. he smiles softly at McCoy's words. "does this mean i get to drive back?"

he hums, rummaging through the kit and eventually coming up with everything he needs to stitch the other up. he's sitting awfully close. it becoming something he's started to do more and more lately. it's as if he's a magnet - drawn to the other no matter what. no matter where McCoy is, Alecsander is there, next to him. clinging onto him in some way.

he begins to stitch the wound up, glancing to look at McCoy's expression every so often to make sure he's not hurting him.

McCoy sighs, then stops with a hiss. "Yeah, I guess so." He throws an arm over his face so he doesn't have to watch—what's visible of his face having a pained expression the entire time.

"Wait.. did you find the stuff? We need to finish our mis-" He cuts off with another pained noise—a hand going up to grip Alecsander's shoulder. There's a slight comfort in it. "How much longer?"

he pauses for a moment, having to readjust himself from all of McCoy's squirming. "they got you good, huh? i'm surprised you're still conscious from how much blood you've lost . . ."

he hums, a mischievous grin making itself known on his face. "while you were out here getting attacked by killjoys, i did happen to find what we were looking for . . ." he pauses. tying off the end of the stitches, he then rummages around for a roll of bandages. "i think that means you owe me something . . ."

"Yeah.." He says quietly, honestly feeling pretty close to fainting. There's still a coat of sweat on his forehead and blood all over him.

McCoy moves his arm slightly to peer at Alecsander. "What? Wait.. were you serious about that?"

he's quiet for a moment, bandaging up the wound to the best of his ability. his efforts should be good enough to last until they make it back to the city.

he clears his throat, beginning to pack away the kit. his face is slightly red as he avoids looking at the other, realising that now probably isn't the time. "oh . . . - uh. no, i was . . . i was joking." although his wandering gaze that continues to end up at the other days otherwise.

McCoy slowly sits up and grabs his glasses off the ground. He speaks up slightly now that the pain is a little less severe. "Thanks."

"Alright." He looks around, deciding not to talk about the kiss thing any more. "What are we gonna do about the killjoys?"

he just . . . sits there. kind of expectantly. then after a moment, he stands up. brushing the sand off of himself, frowning down at his blood soaked clothes. he offers McCoy a hand to help him stand up.

he shrugs glancing around. "i say we just leave them. serves as a warning to any of the others that're still waiting around here . . ."

"Sounds good to me." He takes the helping hand, stumbling for a second before regaining his balance. It's clear bleeding all over the place took more out of him than just blood. "I'm just ready to get back to the city."

McCoy looks down at himself with a frown. "We're gonna get blood all over the car... And probably freak out our coworkers." He shrugs at the last statement.

he doesn't let go of McCoy's hand, keeping his gaze locked on him. "i'm really glad you're okay, you know." he pauses before continuing, his stare becoming more . . . intense. "i don't know what i would do without you . . ." he says this in a protective and yet almost threatening way.

he looks as if he has more to say but decides against it, sparing half a glance towards the vehicle. "at least they'd know that we actually did our job . . ." he frowns, turning back to McCoy. "speaking of that, i should probably go grab the stuff that i found."

"Yeah, thanks." He looks down slightly. "...And I mean, I doubt much would change," he shrugs, "we've only worked together two times so far."

McCoy nods, then starts slowly making his way to the car. "That's true.. you get the stuff and l'll wait in the car." He says, opening the back door and climbing into the backseat so he can lay down. He clearly struggles to sit back up to close the door behind him.

he continues to stare. ". . . you have no idea, do you?" he finally lets go, watching as the other walks back to the car.

he stands unmoving for a moment, before he makes his way back to the building he was in before. he pushes the loose floorboard aside, grabbing out it's contents. he stands up straight, pausing as he spares a disgusted glance at the two dead killjoys on the floor. "pathetic" he mumbles to himself as he steps back out of the building.

he returns to he vehicle, setting the things in the trunk. he pauses as he sees the other laying down in the back. he frowns, staring with concern. "are you alright there?" he opens the door and crouches down to the others level. "perhaps i should radio someone - they could meet us halfway with an ambulance?"

He opens his eyes and looks back at an upside down Alecsander. "Hm? Yeah, I'm alright." McCoy murmurs, eyes staying closed longer than they need to after each blink.

"No.. I'll be fine. I can make it back. I'm not bleeding anymore or anything." He runs a hand through his hair, the blood on him mostly dry now. "I'll be fine."

he frowns, continuing to look very concerned. "okay. if you say so." he pauses for a moment, quickly looking him over for any more injuries before sighing.

without any warning, he plants a gentle kiss on top of the others forehead. "let's go home, yeah?" he stands up and takes a step back. "i think you should try have a rest on the way back . . . we'll head straight to the hospital."

the shuts the door, and then gets into the drivers seat. he spares the other a glance through the rear-view mirror before starting up the car and driving off.

McCoy almost attempts to sit up, but the pain makes him decide against it. "Hey, you said you were joking." He turns and hides his face against the seat, trying to hide that his face is getting warm. "I'll try. Don't crash the car or anything."

Once Alecsander gets in the front he relaxes—putting an arm over his eyes to block out the light—and eventually dozes off.

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

He ignores the kiss for the most part—his hands falling back down to his own chest. For a moment he closes his eyes and struggles to open them again, his energy waning. "I thought the place was empty."

The wound isn't deep enough to have caused any serious damage, but it's still bleeding pretty heavily and more than likely needs stitches.

A quiet, humorless laugh escapes him. "And I thought this was gonna be a quick mission."

he speaks gently as he cleans up the wound to get a better look. he smiles softly at McCoy's words. "does this mean i get to drive back?"

he hums, rummaging through the kit and eventually coming up with everything he needs to stitch the other up. he's sitting awfully close. it becoming something he's started to do more and more lately. it's as if he's a magnet - drawn to the other no matter what. no matter where McCoy is, Alecsander is there, next to him. clinging onto him in some way.

he begins to stitch the wound up, glancing to look at McCoy's expression every so often to make sure he's not hurting him.

McCoy sighs, then stops with a hiss. "Yeah, I guess so." He throws an arm over his face so he doesn't have to watch—what's visible of his face having a pained expression the entire time.

"Wait.. did you find the stuff? We need to finish our mis-" He cuts off with another pained noise—a hand going up to grip Alecsander's shoulder. There's a slight comfort in it. "How much longer?"

he pauses for a moment, having to readjust himself from all of McCoy's squirming. "they got you good, huh? i'm surprised you're still conscious from how much blood you've lost . . ."

he hums, a mischievous grin making itself known on his face. "while you were out here getting attacked by killjoys, i did happen to find what we were looking for . . ." he pauses. tying off the end of the stitches, he then rummages around for a roll of bandages. "i think that means you owe me something . . ."

"Yeah.." He says quietly, honestly feeling pretty close to fainting. There's still a coat of sweat on his forehead and blood all over him.

McCoy moves his arm slightly to peer at Alecsander. "What? Wait.. were you serious about that?"

he's quiet for a moment, bandaging up the wound to the best of his ability. his efforts should be good enough to last until they make it back to the city.

he clears his throat, beginning to pack away the kit. his face is slightly red as he avoids looking at the other, realising that now probably isn't the time. "oh . . . - uh. no, i was . . . i was joking." although his wandering gaze that continues to end up at the other days otherwise.

McCoy slowly sits up and grabs his glasses off the ground. He speaks up slightly now that the pain is a little less severe. "Thanks."

"Alright." He looks around, deciding not to talk about the kiss thing any more. "What are we gonna do about the killjoys?"

he just . . . sits there. kind of expectantly. then after a moment, he stands up. brushing the sand off of himself, frowning down at his blood soaked clothes. he offers McCoy a hand to help him stand up.

he shrugs glancing around. "i say we just leave them. serves as a warning to any of the others that're still waiting around here . . ."

"Sounds good to me." He takes the helping hand, stumbling for a second before regaining his balance. It's clear bleeding all over the place took more out of him than just blood. "I'm just ready to get back to the city."

McCoy looks down at himself with a frown. "We're gonna get blood all over the car... And probably freak out our coworkers." He shrugs at the last statement.

he doesn't let go of McCoy's hand, keeping his gaze locked on him. "i'm really glad you're okay, you know." he pauses before continuing, his stare becoming more . . . intense. "i don't know what i would do without you . . ." he says this in a protective and yet almost threatening way.

he looks as if he has more to say but decides against it, sparing half a glance towards the vehicle. "at least they'd know that we actually did our job . . ." he frowns, turning back to McCoy. "speaking of that, i should probably go grab the stuff that i found."

"Yeah, thanks." He looks down slightly. "...And I mean, I doubt much would change," he shrugs, "we've only worked together two times so far."

McCoy nods, then starts slowly making his way to the car. "That's true.. you get the stuff and l'll wait in the car." He says, opening the back door and climbing into the backseat so he can lay down. He clearly struggles to sit back up to close the door behind him.

he continues to stare. ". . . you have no idea, do you?" he finally lets go, watching as the other walks back to the car.

he stands unmoving for a moment, before he makes his way back to the building he was in before. he pushes the loose floorboard aside, grabbing out it's contents. he stands up straight, pausing as he spares a disgusted glance at the two dead killjoys on the floor. "pathetic" he mumbles to himself as he steps back out of the building.

he returns to he vehicle, setting the things in the trunk. he pauses as he sees the other laying down in the back. he frowns, staring with concern. "are you alright there?" he opens the door and crouches down to the others level. "perhaps i should radio someone - they could meet us halfway with an ambulance?"

He opens his eyes and looks back at an upside down Alecsander. "Hm? Yeah, I'm alright." McCoy murmurs, eyes staying closed longer than they need to after each blink.

"No.. I'll be fine. I can make it back. I'm not bleeding anymore or anything." He runs a hand through his hair, the blood on him mostly dry now. "I'll be fine."

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

He ignores the kiss for the most part—his hands falling back down to his own chest. For a moment he closes his eyes and struggles to open them again, his energy waning. "I thought the place was empty."

The wound isn't deep enough to have caused any serious damage, but it's still bleeding pretty heavily and more than likely needs stitches.

A quiet, humorless laugh escapes him. "And I thought this was gonna be a quick mission."

he speaks gently as he cleans up the wound to get a better look. he smiles softly at McCoy's words. "does this mean i get to drive back?"

he hums, rummaging through the kit and eventually coming up with everything he needs to stitch the other up. he's sitting awfully close. it becoming something he's started to do more and more lately. it's as if he's a magnet - drawn to the other no matter what. no matter where McCoy is, Alecsander is there, next to him. clinging onto him in some way.

he begins to stitch the wound up, glancing to look at McCoy's expression every so often to make sure he's not hurting him.

McCoy sighs, then stops with a hiss. "Yeah, I guess so." He throws an arm over his face so he doesn't have to watch—what's visible of his face having a pained expression the entire time.

"Wait.. did you find the stuff? We need to finish our mis-" He cuts off with another pained noise—a hand going up to grip Alecsander's shoulder. There's a slight comfort in it. "How much longer?"

he pauses for a moment, having to readjust himself from all of McCoy's squirming. "they got you good, huh? i'm surprised you're still conscious from how much blood you've lost . . ."

he hums, a mischievous grin making itself known on his face. "while you were out here getting attacked by killjoys, i did happen to find what we were looking for . . ." he pauses. tying off the end of the stitches, he then rummages around for a roll of bandages. "i think that means you owe me something . . ."

"Yeah.." He says quietly, honestly feeling pretty close to fainting. There's still a coat of sweat on his forehead and blood all over him.

McCoy moves his arm slightly to peer at Alecsander. "What? Wait.. were you serious about that?"

he's quiet for a moment, bandaging up the wound to the best of his ability. his efforts should be good enough to last until they make it back to the city.

he clears his throat, beginning to pack away the kit. his face is slightly red as he avoids looking at the other, realising that now probably isn't the time. "oh . . . - uh. no, i was . . . i was joking." although his wandering gaze that continues to end up at the other days otherwise.

McCoy slowly sits up and grabs his glasses off the ground. He speaks up slightly now that the pain is a little less severe. "Thanks."

"Alright." He looks around, deciding not to talk about the kiss thing any more. "What are we gonna do about the killjoys?"

he just . . . sits there. kind of expectantly. then after a moment, he stands up. brushing the sand off of himself, frowning down at his blood soaked clothes. he offers McCoy a hand to help him stand up.

he shrugs glancing around. "i say we just leave them. serves as a warning to any of the others that're still waiting around here . . ."

"Sounds good to me." He takes the helping hand, stumbling for a second before regaining his balance. It's clear bleeding all over the place took more out of him than just blood. "I'm just ready to get back to the city."

McCoy looks down at himself with a frown. "We're gonna get blood all over the car... And probably freak out our coworkers." He shrugs at the last statement.

he doesn't let go of McCoy's hand, keeping his gaze locked on him. "i'm really glad you're okay, you know." he pauses before continuing, his stare becoming more . . . intense. "i don't know what i would do without you . . ." he says this in a protective and yet almost threatening way.

he looks as if he has more to say but decides against it, sparing half a glance towards the vehicle. "at least they'd know that we actually did our job . . ." he frowns, turning back to McCoy. "speaking of that, i should probably go grab the stuff that i found."

"Yeah, thanks." He looks down slightly. "...And I mean, I doubt much would change," he shrugs, "we've only worked together two times so far."

McCoy nods, then starts slowly making his way to the car. "That's true.. you get the stuff and l'll wait in the car." He says, opening the back door and climbing into the backseat so he can lay down. He clearly struggles to sit back up to close the door behind him.

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

He ignores the kiss for the most part—his hands falling back down to his own chest. For a moment he closes his eyes and struggles to open them again, his energy waning. "I thought the place was empty."

The wound isn't deep enough to have caused any serious damage, but it's still bleeding pretty heavily and more than likely needs stitches.

A quiet, humorless laugh escapes him. "And I thought this was gonna be a quick mission."

he speaks gently as he cleans up the wound to get a better look. he smiles softly at McCoy's words. "does this mean i get to drive back?"

he hums, rummaging through the kit and eventually coming up with everything he needs to stitch the other up. he's sitting awfully close. it becoming something he's started to do more and more lately. it's as if he's a magnet - drawn to the other no matter what. no matter where McCoy is, Alecsander is there, next to him. clinging onto him in some way.

he begins to stitch the wound up, glancing to look at McCoy's expression every so often to make sure he's not hurting him.

McCoy sighs, then stops with a hiss. "Yeah, I guess so." He throws an arm over his face so he doesn't have to watch—what's visible of his face having a pained expression the entire time.

"Wait.. did you find the stuff? We need to finish our mis-" He cuts off with another pained noise—a hand going up to grip Alecsander's shoulder. There's a slight comfort in it. "How much longer?"

he pauses for a moment, having to readjust himself from all of McCoy's squirming. "they got you good, huh? i'm surprised you're still conscious from how much blood you've lost . . ."

he hums, a mischievous grin making itself known on his face. "while you were out here getting attacked by killjoys, i did happen to find what we were looking for . . ." he pauses. tying off the end of the stitches, he then rummages around for a roll of bandages. "i think that means you owe me something . . ."

"Yeah.." He says quietly, honestly feeling pretty close to fainting. There's still a coat of sweat on his forehead and blood all over him.

McCoy moves his arm slightly to peer at Alecsander. "What? Wait.. were you serious about that?"

he's quiet for a moment, bandaging up the wound to the best of his ability. his efforts should be good enough to last until they make it back to the city.

he clears his throat, beginning to pack away the kit. his face is slightly red as he avoids looking at the other, realising that now probably isn't the time. "oh . . . - uh. no, i was . . . i was joking." although his wandering gaze that continues to end up at the other days otherwise.

McCoy slowly sits up and grabs his glasses off the ground. He speaks up slightly now that the pain is a little less severe. "Thanks."

"Alright." He looks around, deciding not to talk about the kiss thing any more. "What are we gonna do about the killjoys?"

he just . . . sits there. kind of expectantly. then after a moment, he stands up. brushing the sand off of himself, frowning down at his blood soaked clothes. he offers McCoy a hand to help him stand up.

he shrugs glancing around. "i say we just leave them. serves as a warning to any of the others that're still waiting around here . . ."

"Sounds good to me." He takes the helping hand, stumbling for a second before regaining his balance. It's clear bleeding all over the place took more out of him than just blood. "I'm just ready to get back to the city."

McCoy looks down at himself with a frown. "We're gonna get blood all over the car... And probably freak out our coworkers." He shrugs at the last statement.

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

He ignores the kiss for the most part—his hands falling back down to his own chest. For a moment he closes his eyes and struggles to open them again, his energy waning. "I thought the place was empty."

The wound isn't deep enough to have caused any serious damage, but it's still bleeding pretty heavily and more than likely needs stitches.

A quiet, humorless laugh escapes him. "And I thought this was gonna be a quick mission."

he speaks gently as he cleans up the wound to get a better look. he smiles softly at McCoy's words. "does this mean i get to drive back?"

he hums, rummaging through the kit and eventually coming up with everything he needs to stitch the other up. he's sitting awfully close. it becoming something he's started to do more and more lately. it's as if he's a magnet - drawn to the other no matter what. no matter where McCoy is, Alecsander is there, next to him. clinging onto him in some way.

he begins to stitch the wound up, glancing to look at McCoy's expression every so often to make sure he's not hurting him.

McCoy sighs, then stops with a hiss. "Yeah, I guess so." He throws an arm over his face so he doesn't have to watch—what's visible of his face having a pained expression the entire time.

"Wait.. did you find the stuff? We need to finish our mis-" He cuts off with another pained noise—a hand going up to grip Alecsander's shoulder. There's a slight comfort in it. "How much longer?"

he pauses for a moment, having to readjust himself from all of McCoy's squirming. "they got you good, huh? i'm surprised you're still conscious from how much blood you've lost . . ."

he hums, a mischievous grin making itself known on his face. "while you were out here getting attacked by killjoys, i did happen to find what we were looking for . . ." he pauses. tying off the end of the stitches, he then rummages around for a roll of bandages. "i think that means you owe me something . . ."

"Yeah.." He says quietly, honestly feeling pretty close to fainting. There's still a coat of sweat on his forehead and blood all over him.

McCoy moves his arm slightly to peer at Alecsander. "What? Wait.. were you serious about that?"

he's quiet for a moment, bandaging up the wound to the best of his ability. his efforts should be good enough to last until they make it back to the city.

he clears his throat, beginning to pack away the kit. his face is slightly red as he avoids looking at the other, realising that now probably isn't the time. "oh . . . - uh. no, i was . . . i was joking." although his wandering gaze that continues to end up at the other days otherwise.

McCoy slowly sits up and grabs his glasses off the ground. He speaks up slightly now that the pain is a little less severe. "Thanks."

"Alright." He looks around, deciding not to talk about the kiss thing any more. "What are we gonna do about the killjoys?"

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

He ignores the kiss for the most part—his hands falling back down to his own chest. For a moment he closes his eyes and struggles to open them again, his energy waning. "I thought the place was empty."

The wound isn't deep enough to have caused any serious damage, but it's still bleeding pretty heavily and more than likely needs stitches.

A quiet, humorless laugh escapes him. "And I thought this was gonna be a quick mission."

he speaks gently as he cleans up the wound to get a better look. he smiles softly at McCoy's words. "does this mean i get to drive back?"

he hums, rummaging through the kit and eventually coming up with everything he needs to stitch the other up. he's sitting awfully close. it becoming something he's started to do more and more lately. it's as if he's a magnet - drawn to the other no matter what. no matter where McCoy is, Alecsander is there, next to him. clinging onto him in some way.

he begins to stitch the wound up, glancing to look at McCoy's expression every so often to make sure he's not hurting him.

McCoy sighs, then stops with a hiss. "Yeah, I guess so." He throws an arm over his face so he doesn't have to watch—what's visible of his face having a pained expression the entire time.

"Wait.. did you find the stuff? We need to finish our mis-" He cuts off with another pained noise—a hand going up to grip Alecsander's shoulder. There's a slight comfort in it. "How much longer?"

he pauses for a moment, having to readjust himself from all of McCoy's squirming. "they got you good, huh? i'm surprised you're still conscious from how much blood you've lost . . ."

he hums, a mischievous grin making itself known on his face. "while you were out here getting attacked by killjoys, i did happen to find what we were looking for . . ." he pauses. tying off the end of the stitches, he then rummages around for a roll of bandages. "i think that means you owe me something . . ."

"Yeah.." He says quietly, honestly feeling pretty close to fainting. There's still a coat of sweat on his forehead and blood all over him.

McCoy moves his arm slightly to peer at Alecsander. "What? Wait.. were you serious about that?"

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

He ignores the kiss for the most part—his hands falling back down to his own chest. For a moment he closes his eyes and struggles to open them again, his energy waning. "I thought the place was empty."

The wound isn't deep enough to have caused any serious damage, but it's still bleeding pretty heavily and more than likely needs stitches.

A quiet, humorless laugh escapes him. "And I thought this was gonna be a quick mission."

he speaks gently as he cleans up the wound to get a better look. he smiles softly at McCoy's words. "does this mean i get to drive back?"

he hums, rummaging through the kit and eventually coming up with everything he needs to stitch the other up. he's sitting awfully close. it becoming something he's started to do more and more lately. it's as if he's a magnet - drawn to the other no matter what. no matter where McCoy is, Alecsander is there, next to him. clinging onto him in some way.

he begins to stitch the wound up, glancing to look at McCoy's expression every so often to make sure he's not hurting him.

McCoy sighs, then stops with a hiss. "Yeah, I guess so." He throws an arm over his face so he doesn't have to watch—what's visible of his face having a pained expression the entire time.

"Wait.. did you find the stuff? We need to finish our mis-" He cuts off with another pained noise—a hand going up to grip Alecsander's shoulder. There's a slight comfort in it. "How much longer?"

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

He ignores the kiss for the most part—his hands falling back down to his own chest. For a moment he closes his eyes and struggles to open them again, his energy waning. "I thought the place was empty."

The wound isn't deep enough to have caused any serious damage, but it's still bleeding pretty heavily and more than likely needs stitches.

A quiet, humorless laugh escapes him. "And I thought this was gonna be a quick mission."

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

McCoy's eyes widen and he halfheartedly tries to push Alecsander off of him. "Yeah, zone four." He clears his throat, standing up straight again. "We'll head off now."

The higher up leaves them to it, unamused about the whole thing. McCoy turns back to his coworker, face slightly red. "Dude! I was talking! You can't just interrupt." He glares for a moment before sighing. "Whatever.. zone four. I'll drive this time."

he doesn't budge, boredly glancing around as if he has no clue as to what's happening. he watches their superior walk off, still not letting go.

he glances down at the other, slightly confused. "interrupt? i didn't interrupt. i was just standing here listening." he frowns at the suggestion of driving ". . . are you even allowed to?" he releases mccoy from his arms, crossing them now.

"No, you interrupted." His words lack any actual bite, but there's still slight annoyance.

McCoy shrugs, a small grin on his face. "Well, I don't think it matters. I can drive just as well as you. Plus, I doubt they'd even notice."

he scoffs, turning around and beginning to make his way out to the patrol car. "fine. but if you crash, i'll never trust you to drive again. after all, i'd get in way more trouble for letting you drive . . ." he pauses at the door. "you better not mess this up for me. d'you have the keys?"

he walks outside, the air still chilly from the morning wind. he checks his phone to look at what their mission is, frowning when he realises they have to go all the way out to zone four. he mutters to himself about it being a waste of time, now looking very unimpressed.

"I only crashed that one time, and it wasn't my fault." He holds up the keys and unlocks the car, feeling much more at home in the driver's seat.

"I don't wanna go all the way to four, but it's supposed to be a pretty quick mission, so maybe we'll get back before dark." He shrugs, starting up the car and happily listening to the engine rumble. "Ah.. I missed driving. Ready?"

he huffs, climbing into the passenger seat, obviously internally sulking about not being able to drive. "wasn't your fault, huh? don't think that's how that works . . . but what do i know? i'm your passenger prince, aren't i?" he grins, putting his seatbelt on.

"you better not drive like a lunatic." he watches the other suspiciously, already bracing for the impact of a crash despite the fact they haven't moved.

"It wasn't! It was that stupid killjoy's fault." McCoy looks over at Alecsander, then looks away briefly. "Yeah, I guess now you are actually the passenger prince."

"I won't. Stop acting like I'll crash into a building or something." He puts the car into gear and goes ever so slightly over the speed limit—a smile plastered on his face as the car beeps because he's unbuckled.

he huffs out an amused laugh, briefly glancing over to judge the others . . . concerning driving skills.

he pauses, frowning at the car beeping. ". . .put your seatbelt on. i'm not going to listen to this sound for the whole ride."

"Fine." He sighs, but slows enough to safely buck up. "Once we get out to the zones we'll be at zone four in no time." McCoy brags, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

he frowns, rolling his eyes. "it'll be a miracle if we make it back to the city tonight alive." he hums, stretching his arms up. "what're we doing in zone four anyway? sounds to me like they're getting us to do their dirty work . . . first zone five now four? we're taking the jobs no one else wants."

"My driving isn't that terrible." He doesn't slow down at a checkpoint, instead just giving a brief wave out the window. "I was told there's important stuff that was taken by killjoys. Medical stuff, probably."

McCoy pushes the car to its limits, but it'll still take a bit to get all the way to four. "Seems like it. This one sounds easy enough, so I guess we got lucky this time."

he sighs, mentally preparing himself for a crash at some point during the day. ". . . you were supposed to slow down there so they could check the mission report." Alecsander smacks the other upside the head at this statement. "killjoys stealing stuff? whats new."

he briefly glances at the other, grinning as an idea pops into his head. "it is pretty lucky, isnt it? getting to go on another mission with you - what're the chances?" he hums, one of his hands sliding over to rest on the others thigh. "out of everyone else in our department - i suppose they must think we work well together."

"Well they'll hear it from someone." McCoy simply shrugs, then huffs when he gets smacked. "Don't hit me when I'm the one driving." He turns the radio up slightly to fill the silence between words. "I guess it's good stuff to send us out to get it."

McCoy looks away briefly, trying to hide a slight cringe. "I guess so. Or the others just really don't wanna work with us." He shrugs again, focusing on the road.

"well i wouldn't have to if you actually did your job properly."

he frowns when he gets no reaction out of mccoy, retracting his hand. he sighs, beginning to play with the radio stations. "i don't see why people wouldn't want to work with us. you know, back before i got re-educated people would fight over me . . . you should've seen it. it was embarrassing, honestly!"

"Who says I'm doing it wrong?" He grins, the expression fleeting.

McCoy just listens for a moment; eventually giving his coworker a look of disbelief. "Fighting? Over you?" Despite himself he laughs—the sound loud but not harsh—and wipes an eye. "That's funny, man. If we crash it's gonna be your fault 'cause you keep distracting me."

he huffs. "me. i've genuinely never seen anyone be as shit at their job as you."

he grins once mccoy starts laughing, biting back one himself. "i'm telling you, man. everyone wanted to work with me . . . no one could keep their hands off me." the briefly glances at the other, his face turning slightly red. the laughter is music to his ears - a sound only he has the privilege of hearing right now. no one else. he continues "hm? i'm distracting you, am i? perhaps you really shouldn't be driving."

"Hey, you can't say that about the guy who climbed the radio tower." He smiles, glancing over at Alecsander again.

"Yeah.. are you sure they weren't trying to fight you?" McCoy sinks back into the seat. The smile hasn't left him yet. "You drove last time, I'm not letting you switch now." He adjusts his glasses. "Maybe the passenger prince needs to sit in the back?"

"you weren't very enthusiastic about doing it though, were you?" he tilts his head, glancing over once more. "seemed like you spent more time upside down than actually fixing the thing . . ." he shrugs. "you did look pretty doing it though, i'll give you that."

he hums, his genuine smile more of a . . . smirk. "you know, now that i think about it they did all have their guns pointed at me"

he huffs. "what? you don't like me sitting up here with you? it's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off me . . ."

"Nope." He pops the 'p'. "But I got it fixed. You spent the whole time smoking if I remember right.." He trails off, face going slightly red at the casual compliment.

"Then I think that means they wanted you dead." He shrugs, smiling. "Although.. I'm not sure why they had their guns pointed at you in the first place. I'm sure that's against city laws."

McCoy quickly side-eyes his coworker. "What? I'm not even looking at you, I'm watching the road." They pass a large sign and McCoy squints up at the rearview mirror. "I think that said we just left two."

he shrugs. "i mean, i drove all the way there. is it such a crime to take a small break?"

he huffs out a laugh. "really? i took it as a compliment . . . they couldn't contain their excitement perhaps?"

he turns his attention to watching the sandy dunes pass by outside. he dramatically sighs, obviously messing with the other now. "honestly, McCoy, keep your attention on the road . . . it's almost embarrassing how your eyes continue to trail back to me . . ." he frowns. "we've left two already? how fast are you going?"

"No but it should be a crime to leave your coworker hanging."

He huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, man. If it helps you sleep at night."

". . .Stop being weird, we've got work to do." Despite saying that he's definitely blushing, although he turns his face away. "And I'm going.. about 78. Not too fast."

"it's not my fault you kept slipping off the ladder. i mean, how hard is it to climb up then back down again? i probably could've done it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back."

he playfully rolls his eyes in response before speaking up again. "what? i'm not doing anything. i'm just trying to have a normal conversation with my lovely coworker!"

he blinks once, then twice, before slowly turning to face McCoy. ". . .78? alright . . . there's no way i'm getting back home alive . . ."

"How the hell do you expect to climb a ladder with your hands tied? We both know you'd fall off the first step."

He almost gives Alecsander a look, but decides against it after the recent teasing. "Sure. And I'm not driving right now."

McCoy gives the speedometer a quick glance. "What? 78 isn't even that fast. I bet we're gonna get there and back before the sun sets thanks to my driving." He kicks it up to about 80. "And you're being too pessimistic."

he shrugs. "i'd find a way."

he's about to come back with a witty remark, before McCoy speeds up even more. his hands quickly grip onto his seat and the inside wall of the door next to him. he winces, tensing up. "it's not a race, you know . . . it doesn't matter if we get back before sunset or not. it's not like you have anything better to be doing than going on this mission." he frowns, trying to sit straight in his seat again. "i'm just being realistic"

This time he looks over, easing off the gas. "I know that. Look, we're entering four now! How lucky." He slows down even more, keeping an eye out.

"He said the stuff should be in some old building somewhere. Guess they're trackin' it or something." He shrugs. "Might be further in though. Just keep an eye out."

he grumbles, looking out the window once more. his voice drips with sarcasm. "just in any old building? sure does narrow it down, huh?"

he frowns, scanning any buildings they go past for suspicious activity. "theres a lot around here . . . i'm sure i've heard killjoys often hide out around here since theres a lot of shelter - perhaps we should split up to cover more ground? or else we'll be here all day."

"Yeah, it's real helpful." He grumbles as well, the car now slowing to a crawl.

McCoy thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure. It looks like these are abandoned anyway, and.." he grins, showing his holster. "I got my raygun back for this mission. Dunno why 'cause I doubt I'll need it, but maybe we'll get lucky and bring back a killjoy this time!"

"got your raygun back, huh? well now, let's just hope that you can aim properly." he grins, climbing out of the car. he stretches, very pleased to be out of that death trap McCoy was driving. "bringing a killjoy back as a little trophy don't sound too bad at all."

he pauses for a moment as he glances around. it's eerily quiet . . . as if the whole desert came to a standstill once he got out. his piercing gaze searching, coming up with nothing. he glances back to the other. "well then, i suppose i'll head off this way and you go the other way? if you find what we're looking for, make sure to radio me." he turns his attention back to the line of abandoned buildings in front of him, muttering. "i want to get this over quickly."

"Of course I know how to aim. I was trained, you know." He rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, locking the doors behind him. "Yup. We might even get a promotion!"

McCoy looks in the opposite directions that Alecsander does—eventually deeming the area safe enough. "Alright. If you see any killjoys or anything tell me." He crosses his arms, a grin on his face. "Wonder who'll find it first. . .Well, sooner we find it the sooner we can leave."

He starts to head off in the opposite direction, his eyes wandering. "Have fun!"

"i better get a promotion . . . after all, i was the only one brave enough to be in the car with you while you drove." he begins to walk off, hand lingering on the holster attached to his belt.

he grins, turning back to yell one last thing. "if i find it first you owe me a kiss!" he then runs off, eager to win. he disappears into the furthest building, the smell of dust instantly hitting him as he enters "ugh . . . gross."

"Well I was brave enough to drive." He shrugs, smiling.

McCoy whirls around at that moment. "What?!" There's a second before he sighs and continues his way into the building ahead of him—the door creaking loudly as he pushes it. "That's not creepy at all.." He takes a breath and goes in.

The inside is dark—dust layered upon every remaining piece of furniture in sheets. A clank grabs McCoy's attention and he looks down, noticing empty cans on the ground. "Dog food? Is that what they're eating out here?"

he slowly walks around the dark building, the only light source being from the smashed windows. he looks under floor planks and behind doors, there not being many hiding spots for killjoy loot. he finds old weapons and empty cans. nothing useful.

shortly thereafter, he moves to the next building, this one being . . . cleaner. seeming to be visited more regularly. after a moment, he sneezes from all the dust he inhales. "ugh . . . i do not miss being out here . . ." in fact, he remembers coming here quite a few times with xenon, bonfires and get-together usually happening outside the buildings. now that he's getting a good look inside, he understands why no one would come in. he hears a floorboard creak behind him, quickly whipping around only to find . . . nothing. he continues on with a tired sigh.

He pushes furniture aside, dust attaching itself to his hands which he shakes off. "Eugh.. this is disgusting."

The further he goes into the building the less he's able to see—eventually relying on feeling around the room. "Should've brought a flashlight.." he grumbles, wincing as he walks into what might be a table. "Dammit."

he swears he hears people talking, but whatever he turns to the noise, he comes up with nothing. he's probably just paranoid . . . the desert is just too empty, too quiet. his brain must be making up noises to fill the silence.

that is, until he hears some glass shatter.

. . .

he stands still, back turned to the noise. almost as if he's waiting for whatever it is to strike first.

and one thing he knows about killjoys, is that they never go after someone alone - like the animals they are, it's almost as if they travel in packs.

taking home a few killjoys don't sound too bad after all.

McCoy raises his head—feeling vaguely like he's just heard something. Though after a moment of silence he decides it must've been his imagination. Eventually he makes his way back to the only light source in the room.

However, he stops just before getting to the doorway and reaches for his radio. It seems like he should ask just to be sure nothing's happened.

gunshots ring out from the building alecsander is in, then it falls silent again.

inside, he wrestles a masked killjoy for his gun, shots flying everywhere. he managed to get one in a headshot, but the second one is putting up too much of a fight.

he knows there's more around - having seen a few run out of the building he's in once his gun first went off. as worried as he is, mccoy should surely be able to handle himself.

more shots echo through the desert.

McCoy runs straight for the building Alecsander seems to be in—a hand fumbling to get his raygun from its holster.

He manages to get his raygun out, but a sound near him stops him in his tracks and he turns around—narrowly avoiding being shot at. A shot of his own rings out and he returns to his job of finding his coworker.

Though, before he can make it there, a blur of colour rushes past him. For a moment it seems like nothing really happened, until he starts to rush forward again and pain shoots throughout him—enough to knock him off his feet and into the sand.

McCoy wraps his arms around his stomach and curls into a ball—his t-shirt slashed and growing increasingly stained with red. "Dammit.."

Alecsander finally manages to disarm the killjoy, and after one more shot, he allows them to join their friend in the afterlife. he shakily stands up, grabbing onto a nearby wall for support.

he's drenched in blood and he's not sure who it belongs to anymore. but either way, he's relatively unharmed - all those terrible hours of training nonstop came in handy.

he reaches for his radio, tuning it to McCoy's signal. "McCoy, do you read me? where are you? i just got ambushed by some killjoys and i think there might be some more around." as he pauses waiting for an answer, he kicks at a floorboard. he pauses as it comes loose.

McCoy takes a shaky breath, his hands warm with his own blood. It takes him longer than he'd like to will himself to reach for his radio—his voice shaking as much as his hands. The antenna got bent when he fell, so mainly buzzing can be heard.

"--- outside.. - got ------- too." He hisses, setting the radio aside to focus on putting pressure on the wound. Surely what he said was enough for Alecsander to understand.

he pauses at the others words, standing silent for a moment. ". . . what? McCoy I - I can't hear you. you're - you're going to have to speak up. what's happened? are you okay?"

once he finishes speaking, the sound of static fills the air. after a moment of consideration, he crouches down to lift up the floorboard. he finds medical supplies, electronics, carbons, and many city branded things. he grins to himself, accomplished.

bingo.

He groans, curling up with his back up and his face pressed against the sand below. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat—his heartbeat in his ears. It seems the killjoys left, because if they had stayed he would've surely been killed. Either that or they'd prefer him to die slow.

The sun beats down on him—worsening how he feels. In all honesty he would rather have gotten ambushed in the creepy dark building.

he frowns when he gets no response from his coworker. he turns his radio off, and begins to walk out of the building.

once he sees McCoy curled up in the sand, he hurries over. blood from his clothes drips onto the sand as he crouches down next to him. "holy shit - what happened? i-" he pauses, checking him over. he reaches for his pulse, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow. he whispers to himself, "shit."

McCoy raises his head slightly, his glasses falling off his face. "Killjoys." He mutters, wincing as he takes a deep breath. "Prob'ly a kit in the car. Get it."

he nods, quickly jumping up and grabbing the kit from the glovebox in the car. he pauses for a moment, face turning confused as he sees some things in their wrongful place in the vehicle. although, his attention is quickly turned back to getting back to McCoy.

although once he arrives back, he stands in front of the person on the ground in front of him. he drops the kit to the ground only just out of McCoy's reach.

he stands unmoving for a moment as his face twists into . . . something else. ". . .you really need me, huh?"

he falls quiet again, staring down with his piercing gaze - as if his coworker is a dying bug that he just stepped on. ". . . you need me."

. . .

the faint wind is the only sound that can be heard now, with the occasional dripping coming from Alecsanders clothes.

"say it."

. . .

"say you need me."

He reaches fruitlessly for the kit, although he's aware he can't patch it up himself. Once he notices it's out of reach, however, he looks up at his coworker. Even with his face blurry, McCoy can feel the gaze piercing through him.

McCoy takes another deep breath, a pained whine escaping him—something which he'll be embarrassed about later.

"W-what? What th' hell are you doing?" He squints, pain impossible to ignore. "Yeah, I need you to hurry th' hell up before I die here? Please?"

. . .

. . .

"I need you-" he cuts off with a pained hiss—blood covering the sand and his arms. He looks pitiful as he stares up at Alecsander. "Fuck- I need you, just.. please. Don't do this now."

a sadistic smile is plastered on his face as he crouches down. he tilts his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "what was that? i couldn't quite hear you, Connor."

he grabs the others face, forcing him to look into his eyes. "you're only making this harder on yourself the more you fight me."

. . .

he gazes down, his stare almost . . . enticing. he wipes some blood away from the others cheek lovingly. "so say it."

McCoy reluctantly lifts his hands to clutch Alecsander's shirt, pulling him to be face-to-face—blood staining everything he touches.

"I said-" He winces, speaking louder. "I said I need you. Is that good enough?" He brings his hands up higher, basically grabbing Alecsander by the face—fingers getting red in his hair. "Now grab the damn kit or I'll kill you before I die."

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

McCoy's eyes widen and he halfheartedly tries to push Alecsander off of him. "Yeah, zone four." He clears his throat, standing up straight again. "We'll head off now."

The higher up leaves them to it, unamused about the whole thing. McCoy turns back to his coworker, face slightly red. "Dude! I was talking! You can't just interrupt." He glares for a moment before sighing. "Whatever.. zone four. I'll drive this time."

he doesn't budge, boredly glancing around as if he has no clue as to what's happening. he watches their superior walk off, still not letting go.

he glances down at the other, slightly confused. "interrupt? i didn't interrupt. i was just standing here listening." he frowns at the suggestion of driving ". . . are you even allowed to?" he releases mccoy from his arms, crossing them now.

"No, you interrupted." His words lack any actual bite, but there's still slight annoyance.

McCoy shrugs, a small grin on his face. "Well, I don't think it matters. I can drive just as well as you. Plus, I doubt they'd even notice."

he scoffs, turning around and beginning to make his way out to the patrol car. "fine. but if you crash, i'll never trust you to drive again. after all, i'd get in way more trouble for letting you drive . . ." he pauses at the door. "you better not mess this up for me. d'you have the keys?"

he walks outside, the air still chilly from the morning wind. he checks his phone to look at what their mission is, frowning when he realises they have to go all the way out to zone four. he mutters to himself about it being a waste of time, now looking very unimpressed.

"I only crashed that one time, and it wasn't my fault." He holds up the keys and unlocks the car, feeling much more at home in the driver's seat.

"I don't wanna go all the way to four, but it's supposed to be a pretty quick mission, so maybe we'll get back before dark." He shrugs, starting up the car and happily listening to the engine rumble. "Ah.. I missed driving. Ready?"

he huffs, climbing into the passenger seat, obviously internally sulking about not being able to drive. "wasn't your fault, huh? don't think that's how that works . . . but what do i know? i'm your passenger prince, aren't i?" he grins, putting his seatbelt on.

"you better not drive like a lunatic." he watches the other suspiciously, already bracing for the impact of a crash despite the fact they haven't moved.

"It wasn't! It was that stupid killjoy's fault." McCoy looks over at Alecsander, then looks away briefly. "Yeah, I guess now you are actually the passenger prince."

"I won't. Stop acting like I'll crash into a building or something." He puts the car into gear and goes ever so slightly over the speed limit—a smile plastered on his face as the car beeps because he's unbuckled.

he huffs out an amused laugh, briefly glancing over to judge the others . . . concerning driving skills.

he pauses, frowning at the car beeping. ". . .put your seatbelt on. i'm not going to listen to this sound for the whole ride."

"Fine." He sighs, but slows enough to safely buck up. "Once we get out to the zones we'll be at zone four in no time." McCoy brags, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

he frowns, rolling his eyes. "it'll be a miracle if we make it back to the city tonight alive." he hums, stretching his arms up. "what're we doing in zone four anyway? sounds to me like they're getting us to do their dirty work . . . first zone five now four? we're taking the jobs no one else wants."

"My driving isn't that terrible." He doesn't slow down at a checkpoint, instead just giving a brief wave out the window. "I was told there's important stuff that was taken by killjoys. Medical stuff, probably."

McCoy pushes the car to its limits, but it'll still take a bit to get all the way to four. "Seems like it. This one sounds easy enough, so I guess we got lucky this time."

he sighs, mentally preparing himself for a crash at some point during the day. ". . . you were supposed to slow down there so they could check the mission report." Alecsander smacks the other upside the head at this statement. "killjoys stealing stuff? whats new."

he briefly glances at the other, grinning as an idea pops into his head. "it is pretty lucky, isnt it? getting to go on another mission with you - what're the chances?" he hums, one of his hands sliding over to rest on the others thigh. "out of everyone else in our department - i suppose they must think we work well together."

"Well they'll hear it from someone." McCoy simply shrugs, then huffs when he gets smacked. "Don't hit me when I'm the one driving." He turns the radio up slightly to fill the silence between words. "I guess it's good stuff to send us out to get it."

McCoy looks away briefly, trying to hide a slight cringe. "I guess so. Or the others just really don't wanna work with us." He shrugs again, focusing on the road.

"well i wouldn't have to if you actually did your job properly."

he frowns when he gets no reaction out of mccoy, retracting his hand. he sighs, beginning to play with the radio stations. "i don't see why people wouldn't want to work with us. you know, back before i got re-educated people would fight over me . . . you should've seen it. it was embarrassing, honestly!"

"Who says I'm doing it wrong?" He grins, the expression fleeting.

McCoy just listens for a moment; eventually giving his coworker a look of disbelief. "Fighting? Over you?" Despite himself he laughs—the sound loud but not harsh—and wipes an eye. "That's funny, man. If we crash it's gonna be your fault 'cause you keep distracting me."

he huffs. "me. i've genuinely never seen anyone be as shit at their job as you."

he grins once mccoy starts laughing, biting back one himself. "i'm telling you, man. everyone wanted to work with me . . . no one could keep their hands off me." the briefly glances at the other, his face turning slightly red. the laughter is music to his ears - a sound only he has the privilege of hearing right now. no one else. he continues "hm? i'm distracting you, am i? perhaps you really shouldn't be driving."

"Hey, you can't say that about the guy who climbed the radio tower." He smiles, glancing over at Alecsander again.

"Yeah.. are you sure they weren't trying to fight you?" McCoy sinks back into the seat. The smile hasn't left him yet. "You drove last time, I'm not letting you switch now." He adjusts his glasses. "Maybe the passenger prince needs to sit in the back?"

"you weren't very enthusiastic about doing it though, were you?" he tilts his head, glancing over once more. "seemed like you spent more time upside down than actually fixing the thing . . ." he shrugs. "you did look pretty doing it though, i'll give you that."

he hums, his genuine smile more of a . . . smirk. "you know, now that i think about it they did all have their guns pointed at me"

he huffs. "what? you don't like me sitting up here with you? it's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off me . . ."

"Nope." He pops the 'p'. "But I got it fixed. You spent the whole time smoking if I remember right.." He trails off, face going slightly red at the casual compliment.

"Then I think that means they wanted you dead." He shrugs, smiling. "Although.. I'm not sure why they had their guns pointed at you in the first place. I'm sure that's against city laws."

McCoy quickly side-eyes his coworker. "What? I'm not even looking at you, I'm watching the road." They pass a large sign and McCoy squints up at the rearview mirror. "I think that said we just left two."

he shrugs. "i mean, i drove all the way there. is it such a crime to take a small break?"

he huffs out a laugh. "really? i took it as a compliment . . . they couldn't contain their excitement perhaps?"

he turns his attention to watching the sandy dunes pass by outside. he dramatically sighs, obviously messing with the other now. "honestly, McCoy, keep your attention on the road . . . it's almost embarrassing how your eyes continue to trail back to me . . ." he frowns. "we've left two already? how fast are you going?"

"No but it should be a crime to leave your coworker hanging."

He huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, man. If it helps you sleep at night."

". . .Stop being weird, we've got work to do." Despite saying that he's definitely blushing, although he turns his face away. "And I'm going.. about 78. Not too fast."

"it's not my fault you kept slipping off the ladder. i mean, how hard is it to climb up then back down again? i probably could've done it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back."

he playfully rolls his eyes in response before speaking up again. "what? i'm not doing anything. i'm just trying to have a normal conversation with my lovely coworker!"

he blinks once, then twice, before slowly turning to face McCoy. ". . .78? alright . . . there's no way i'm getting back home alive . . ."

"How the hell do you expect to climb a ladder with your hands tied? We both know you'd fall off the first step."

He almost gives Alecsander a look, but decides against it after the recent teasing. "Sure. And I'm not driving right now."

McCoy gives the speedometer a quick glance. "What? 78 isn't even that fast. I bet we're gonna get there and back before the sun sets thanks to my driving." He kicks it up to about 80. "And you're being too pessimistic."

he shrugs. "i'd find a way."

he's about to come back with a witty remark, before McCoy speeds up even more. his hands quickly grip onto his seat and the inside wall of the door next to him. he winces, tensing up. "it's not a race, you know . . . it doesn't matter if we get back before sunset or not. it's not like you have anything better to be doing than going on this mission." he frowns, trying to sit straight in his seat again. "i'm just being realistic"

This time he looks over, easing off the gas. "I know that. Look, we're entering four now! How lucky." He slows down even more, keeping an eye out.

"He said the stuff should be in some old building somewhere. Guess they're trackin' it or something." He shrugs. "Might be further in though. Just keep an eye out."

he grumbles, looking out the window once more. his voice drips with sarcasm. "just in any old building? sure does narrow it down, huh?"

he frowns, scanning any buildings they go past for suspicious activity. "theres a lot around here . . . i'm sure i've heard killjoys often hide out around here since theres a lot of shelter - perhaps we should split up to cover more ground? or else we'll be here all day."

"Yeah, it's real helpful." He grumbles as well, the car now slowing to a crawl.

McCoy thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure. It looks like these are abandoned anyway, and.." he grins, showing his holster. "I got my raygun back for this mission. Dunno why 'cause I doubt I'll need it, but maybe we'll get lucky and bring back a killjoy this time!"

"got your raygun back, huh? well now, let's just hope that you can aim properly." he grins, climbing out of the car. he stretches, very pleased to be out of that death trap McCoy was driving. "bringing a killjoy back as a little trophy don't sound too bad at all."

he pauses for a moment as he glances around. it's eerily quiet . . . as if the whole desert came to a standstill once he got out. his piercing gaze searching, coming up with nothing. he glances back to the other. "well then, i suppose i'll head off this way and you go the other way? if you find what we're looking for, make sure to radio me." he turns his attention back to the line of abandoned buildings in front of him, muttering. "i want to get this over quickly."

"Of course I know how to aim. I was trained, you know." He rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, locking the doors behind him. "Yup. We might even get a promotion!"

McCoy looks in the opposite directions that Alecsander does—eventually deeming the area safe enough. "Alright. If you see any killjoys or anything tell me." He crosses his arms, a grin on his face. "Wonder who'll find it first. . .Well, sooner we find it the sooner we can leave."

He starts to head off in the opposite direction, his eyes wandering. "Have fun!"

"i better get a promotion . . . after all, i was the only one brave enough to be in the car with you while you drove." he begins to walk off, hand lingering on the holster attached to his belt.

he grins, turning back to yell one last thing. "if i find it first you owe me a kiss!" he then runs off, eager to win. he disappears into the furthest building, the smell of dust instantly hitting him as he enters "ugh . . . gross."

"Well I was brave enough to drive." He shrugs, smiling.

McCoy whirls around at that moment. "What?!" There's a second before he sighs and continues his way into the building ahead of him—the door creaking loudly as he pushes it. "That's not creepy at all.." He takes a breath and goes in.

The inside is dark—dust layered upon every remaining piece of furniture in sheets. A clank grabs McCoy's attention and he looks down, noticing empty cans on the ground. "Dog food? Is that what they're eating out here?"

he slowly walks around the dark building, the only light source being from the smashed windows. he looks under floor planks and behind doors, there not being many hiding spots for killjoy loot. he finds old weapons and empty cans. nothing useful.

shortly thereafter, he moves to the next building, this one being . . . cleaner. seeming to be visited more regularly. after a moment, he sneezes from all the dust he inhales. "ugh . . . i do not miss being out here . . ." in fact, he remembers coming here quite a few times with xenon, bonfires and get-together usually happening outside the buildings. now that he's getting a good look inside, he understands why no one would come in. he hears a floorboard creak behind him, quickly whipping around only to find . . . nothing. he continues on with a tired sigh.

He pushes furniture aside, dust attaching itself to his hands which he shakes off. "Eugh.. this is disgusting."

The further he goes into the building the less he's able to see—eventually relying on feeling around the room. "Should've brought a flashlight.." he grumbles, wincing as he walks into what might be a table. "Dammit."

he swears he hears people talking, but whatever he turns to the noise, he comes up with nothing. he's probably just paranoid . . . the desert is just too empty, too quiet. his brain must be making up noises to fill the silence.

that is, until he hears some glass shatter.

. . .

he stands still, back turned to the noise. almost as if he's waiting for whatever it is to strike first.

and one thing he knows about killjoys, is that they never go after someone alone - like the animals they are, it's almost as if they travel in packs.

taking home a few killjoys don't sound too bad after all.

McCoy raises his head—feeling vaguely like he's just heard something. Though after a moment of silence he decides it must've been his imagination. Eventually he makes his way back to the only light source in the room.

However, he stops just before getting to the doorway and reaches for his radio. It seems like he should ask just to be sure nothing's happened.

gunshots ring out from the building alecsander is in, then it falls silent again.

inside, he wrestles a masked killjoy for his gun, shots flying everywhere. he managed to get one in a headshot, but the second one is putting up too much of a fight.

he knows there's more around - having seen a few run out of the building he's in once his gun first went off. as worried as he is, mccoy should surely be able to handle himself.

more shots echo through the desert.

McCoy runs straight for the building Alecsander seems to be in—a hand fumbling to get his raygun from its holster.

He manages to get his raygun out, but a sound near him stops him in his tracks and he turns around—narrowly avoiding being shot at. A shot of his own rings out and he returns to his job of finding his coworker.

Though, before he can make it there, a blur of colour rushes past him. For a moment it seems like nothing really happened, until he starts to rush forward again and pain shoots throughout him—enough to knock him off his feet and into the sand.

McCoy wraps his arms around his stomach and curls into a ball—his t-shirt slashed and growing increasingly stained with red. "Dammit.."

Alecsander finally manages to disarm the killjoy, and after one more shot, he allows them to join their friend in the afterlife. he shakily stands up, grabbing onto a nearby wall for support.

he's drenched in blood and he's not sure who it belongs to anymore. but either way, he's relatively unharmed - all those terrible hours of training nonstop came in handy.

he reaches for his radio, tuning it to McCoy's signal. "McCoy, do you read me? where are you? i just got ambushed by some killjoys and i think there might be some more around." as he pauses waiting for an answer, he kicks at a floorboard. he pauses as it comes loose.

McCoy takes a shaky breath, his hands warm with his own blood. It takes him longer than he'd like to will himself to reach for his radio—his voice shaking as much as his hands. The antenna got bent when he fell, so mainly buzzing can be heard.

"--- outside.. - got ------- too." He hisses, setting the radio aside to focus on putting pressure on the wound. Surely what he said was enough for Alecsander to understand.

he pauses at the others words, standing silent for a moment. ". . . what? McCoy I - I can't hear you. you're - you're going to have to speak up. what's happened? are you okay?"

once he finishes speaking, the sound of static fills the air. after a moment of consideration, he crouches down to lift up the floorboard. he finds medical supplies, electronics, carbons, and many city branded things. he grins to himself, accomplished.

bingo.

He groans, curling up with his back up and his face pressed against the sand below. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat—his heartbeat in his ears. It seems the killjoys left, because if they had stayed he would've surely been killed. Either that or they'd prefer him to die slow.

The sun beats down on him—worsening how he feels. In all honesty he would rather have gotten ambushed in the creepy dark building.

he frowns when he gets no response from his coworker. he turns his radio off, and begins to walk out of the building.

once he sees McCoy curled up in the sand, he hurries over. blood from his clothes drips onto the sand as he crouches down next to him. "holy shit - what happened? i-" he pauses, checking him over. he reaches for his pulse, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow. he whispers to himself, "shit."

McCoy raises his head slightly, his glasses falling off his face. "Killjoys." He mutters, wincing as he takes a deep breath. "Prob'ly a kit in the car. Get it."

he nods, quickly jumping up and grabbing the kit from the glovebox in the car. he pauses for a moment, face turning confused as he sees some things in their wrongful place in the vehicle. although, his attention is quickly turned back to getting back to McCoy.

although once he arrives back, he stands in front of the person on the ground in front of him. he drops the kit to the ground only just out of McCoy's reach.

he stands unmoving for a moment as his face twists into . . . something else. ". . .you really need me, huh?"

he falls quiet again, staring down with his piercing gaze - as if his coworker is a dying bug that he just stepped on. ". . . you need me."

. . .

the faint wind is the only sound that can be heard now, with the occasional dripping coming from Alecsanders clothes.

"say it."

. . .

"say you need me."

He reaches fruitlessly for the kit, although he's aware he can't patch it up himself. Once he notices it's out of reach, however, he looks up at his coworker. Even with his face blurry, McCoy can feel the gaze piercing through him.

McCoy takes another deep breath, a pained whine escaping him—something which he'll be embarrassed about later.

"W-what? What th' hell are you doing?" He squints, pain impossible to ignore. "Yeah, I need you to hurry th' hell up before I die here? Please?"

. . .

. . .

"I need you-" he cuts off with a pained hiss—blood covering the sand and his arms. He looks pitiful as he stares up at Alecsander. "Fuck- I need you, just.. please. Don't do this now."

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

McCoy's eyes widen and he halfheartedly tries to push Alecsander off of him. "Yeah, zone four." He clears his throat, standing up straight again. "We'll head off now."

The higher up leaves them to it, unamused about the whole thing. McCoy turns back to his coworker, face slightly red. "Dude! I was talking! You can't just interrupt." He glares for a moment before sighing. "Whatever.. zone four. I'll drive this time."

he doesn't budge, boredly glancing around as if he has no clue as to what's happening. he watches their superior walk off, still not letting go.

he glances down at the other, slightly confused. "interrupt? i didn't interrupt. i was just standing here listening." he frowns at the suggestion of driving ". . . are you even allowed to?" he releases mccoy from his arms, crossing them now.

"No, you interrupted." His words lack any actual bite, but there's still slight annoyance.

McCoy shrugs, a small grin on his face. "Well, I don't think it matters. I can drive just as well as you. Plus, I doubt they'd even notice."

he scoffs, turning around and beginning to make his way out to the patrol car. "fine. but if you crash, i'll never trust you to drive again. after all, i'd get in way more trouble for letting you drive . . ." he pauses at the door. "you better not mess this up for me. d'you have the keys?"

he walks outside, the air still chilly from the morning wind. he checks his phone to look at what their mission is, frowning when he realises they have to go all the way out to zone four. he mutters to himself about it being a waste of time, now looking very unimpressed.

"I only crashed that one time, and it wasn't my fault." He holds up the keys and unlocks the car, feeling much more at home in the driver's seat.

"I don't wanna go all the way to four, but it's supposed to be a pretty quick mission, so maybe we'll get back before dark." He shrugs, starting up the car and happily listening to the engine rumble. "Ah.. I missed driving. Ready?"

he huffs, climbing into the passenger seat, obviously internally sulking about not being able to drive. "wasn't your fault, huh? don't think that's how that works . . . but what do i know? i'm your passenger prince, aren't i?" he grins, putting his seatbelt on.

"you better not drive like a lunatic." he watches the other suspiciously, already bracing for the impact of a crash despite the fact they haven't moved.

"It wasn't! It was that stupid killjoy's fault." McCoy looks over at Alecsander, then looks away briefly. "Yeah, I guess now you are actually the passenger prince."

"I won't. Stop acting like I'll crash into a building or something." He puts the car into gear and goes ever so slightly over the speed limit—a smile plastered on his face as the car beeps because he's unbuckled.

he huffs out an amused laugh, briefly glancing over to judge the others . . . concerning driving skills.

he pauses, frowning at the car beeping. ". . .put your seatbelt on. i'm not going to listen to this sound for the whole ride."

"Fine." He sighs, but slows enough to safely buck up. "Once we get out to the zones we'll be at zone four in no time." McCoy brags, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

he frowns, rolling his eyes. "it'll be a miracle if we make it back to the city tonight alive." he hums, stretching his arms up. "what're we doing in zone four anyway? sounds to me like they're getting us to do their dirty work . . . first zone five now four? we're taking the jobs no one else wants."

"My driving isn't that terrible." He doesn't slow down at a checkpoint, instead just giving a brief wave out the window. "I was told there's important stuff that was taken by killjoys. Medical stuff, probably."

McCoy pushes the car to its limits, but it'll still take a bit to get all the way to four. "Seems like it. This one sounds easy enough, so I guess we got lucky this time."

he sighs, mentally preparing himself for a crash at some point during the day. ". . . you were supposed to slow down there so they could check the mission report." Alecsander smacks the other upside the head at this statement. "killjoys stealing stuff? whats new."

he briefly glances at the other, grinning as an idea pops into his head. "it is pretty lucky, isnt it? getting to go on another mission with you - what're the chances?" he hums, one of his hands sliding over to rest on the others thigh. "out of everyone else in our department - i suppose they must think we work well together."

"Well they'll hear it from someone." McCoy simply shrugs, then huffs when he gets smacked. "Don't hit me when I'm the one driving." He turns the radio up slightly to fill the silence between words. "I guess it's good stuff to send us out to get it."

McCoy looks away briefly, trying to hide a slight cringe. "I guess so. Or the others just really don't wanna work with us." He shrugs again, focusing on the road.

"well i wouldn't have to if you actually did your job properly."

he frowns when he gets no reaction out of mccoy, retracting his hand. he sighs, beginning to play with the radio stations. "i don't see why people wouldn't want to work with us. you know, back before i got re-educated people would fight over me . . . you should've seen it. it was embarrassing, honestly!"

"Who says I'm doing it wrong?" He grins, the expression fleeting.

McCoy just listens for a moment; eventually giving his coworker a look of disbelief. "Fighting? Over you?" Despite himself he laughs—the sound loud but not harsh—and wipes an eye. "That's funny, man. If we crash it's gonna be your fault 'cause you keep distracting me."

he huffs. "me. i've genuinely never seen anyone be as shit at their job as you."

he grins once mccoy starts laughing, biting back one himself. "i'm telling you, man. everyone wanted to work with me . . . no one could keep their hands off me." the briefly glances at the other, his face turning slightly red. the laughter is music to his ears - a sound only he has the privilege of hearing right now. no one else. he continues "hm? i'm distracting you, am i? perhaps you really shouldn't be driving."

"Hey, you can't say that about the guy who climbed the radio tower." He smiles, glancing over at Alecsander again.

"Yeah.. are you sure they weren't trying to fight you?" McCoy sinks back into the seat. The smile hasn't left him yet. "You drove last time, I'm not letting you switch now." He adjusts his glasses. "Maybe the passenger prince needs to sit in the back?"

"you weren't very enthusiastic about doing it though, were you?" he tilts his head, glancing over once more. "seemed like you spent more time upside down than actually fixing the thing . . ." he shrugs. "you did look pretty doing it though, i'll give you that."

he hums, his genuine smile more of a . . . smirk. "you know, now that i think about it they did all have their guns pointed at me"

he huffs. "what? you don't like me sitting up here with you? it's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off me . . ."

"Nope." He pops the 'p'. "But I got it fixed. You spent the whole time smoking if I remember right.." He trails off, face going slightly red at the casual compliment.

"Then I think that means they wanted you dead." He shrugs, smiling. "Although.. I'm not sure why they had their guns pointed at you in the first place. I'm sure that's against city laws."

McCoy quickly side-eyes his coworker. "What? I'm not even looking at you, I'm watching the road." They pass a large sign and McCoy squints up at the rearview mirror. "I think that said we just left two."

he shrugs. "i mean, i drove all the way there. is it such a crime to take a small break?"

he huffs out a laugh. "really? i took it as a compliment . . . they couldn't contain their excitement perhaps?"

he turns his attention to watching the sandy dunes pass by outside. he dramatically sighs, obviously messing with the other now. "honestly, McCoy, keep your attention on the road . . . it's almost embarrassing how your eyes continue to trail back to me . . ." he frowns. "we've left two already? how fast are you going?"

"No but it should be a crime to leave your coworker hanging."

He huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, man. If it helps you sleep at night."

". . .Stop being weird, we've got work to do." Despite saying that he's definitely blushing, although he turns his face away. "And I'm going.. about 78. Not too fast."

"it's not my fault you kept slipping off the ladder. i mean, how hard is it to climb up then back down again? i probably could've done it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back."

he playfully rolls his eyes in response before speaking up again. "what? i'm not doing anything. i'm just trying to have a normal conversation with my lovely coworker!"

he blinks once, then twice, before slowly turning to face McCoy. ". . .78? alright . . . there's no way i'm getting back home alive . . ."

"How the hell do you expect to climb a ladder with your hands tied? We both know you'd fall off the first step."

He almost gives Alecsander a look, but decides against it after the recent teasing. "Sure. And I'm not driving right now."

McCoy gives the speedometer a quick glance. "What? 78 isn't even that fast. I bet we're gonna get there and back before the sun sets thanks to my driving." He kicks it up to about 80. "And you're being too pessimistic."

he shrugs. "i'd find a way."

he's about to come back with a witty remark, before McCoy speeds up even more. his hands quickly grip onto his seat and the inside wall of the door next to him. he winces, tensing up. "it's not a race, you know . . . it doesn't matter if we get back before sunset or not. it's not like you have anything better to be doing than going on this mission." he frowns, trying to sit straight in his seat again. "i'm just being realistic"

This time he looks over, easing off the gas. "I know that. Look, we're entering four now! How lucky." He slows down even more, keeping an eye out.

"He said the stuff should be in some old building somewhere. Guess they're trackin' it or something." He shrugs. "Might be further in though. Just keep an eye out."

he grumbles, looking out the window once more. his voice drips with sarcasm. "just in any old building? sure does narrow it down, huh?"

he frowns, scanning any buildings they go past for suspicious activity. "theres a lot around here . . . i'm sure i've heard killjoys often hide out around here since theres a lot of shelter - perhaps we should split up to cover more ground? or else we'll be here all day."

"Yeah, it's real helpful." He grumbles as well, the car now slowing to a crawl.

McCoy thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure. It looks like these are abandoned anyway, and.." he grins, showing his holster. "I got my raygun back for this mission. Dunno why 'cause I doubt I'll need it, but maybe we'll get lucky and bring back a killjoy this time!"

"got your raygun back, huh? well now, let's just hope that you can aim properly." he grins, climbing out of the car. he stretches, very pleased to be out of that death trap McCoy was driving. "bringing a killjoy back as a little trophy don't sound too bad at all."

he pauses for a moment as he glances around. it's eerily quiet . . . as if the whole desert came to a standstill once he got out. his piercing gaze searching, coming up with nothing. he glances back to the other. "well then, i suppose i'll head off this way and you go the other way? if you find what we're looking for, make sure to radio me." he turns his attention back to the line of abandoned buildings in front of him, muttering. "i want to get this over quickly."

"Of course I know how to aim. I was trained, you know." He rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, locking the doors behind him. "Yup. We might even get a promotion!"

McCoy looks in the opposite directions that Alecsander does—eventually deeming the area safe enough. "Alright. If you see any killjoys or anything tell me." He crosses his arms, a grin on his face. "Wonder who'll find it first. . .Well, sooner we find it the sooner we can leave."

He starts to head off in the opposite direction, his eyes wandering. "Have fun!"

"i better get a promotion . . . after all, i was the only one brave enough to be in the car with you while you drove." he begins to walk off, hand lingering on the holster attached to his belt.

he grins, turning back to yell one last thing. "if i find it first you owe me a kiss!" he then runs off, eager to win. he disappears into the furthest building, the smell of dust instantly hitting him as he enters "ugh . . . gross."

"Well I was brave enough to drive." He shrugs, smiling.

McCoy whirls around at that moment. "What?!" There's a second before he sighs and continues his way into the building ahead of him—the door creaking loudly as he pushes it. "That's not creepy at all.." He takes a breath and goes in.

The inside is dark—dust layered upon every remaining piece of furniture in sheets. A clank grabs McCoy's attention and he looks down, noticing empty cans on the ground. "Dog food? Is that what they're eating out here?"

he slowly walks around the dark building, the only light source being from the smashed windows. he looks under floor planks and behind doors, there not being many hiding spots for killjoy loot. he finds old weapons and empty cans. nothing useful.

shortly thereafter, he moves to the next building, this one being . . . cleaner. seeming to be visited more regularly. after a moment, he sneezes from all the dust he inhales. "ugh . . . i do not miss being out here . . ." in fact, he remembers coming here quite a few times with xenon, bonfires and get-together usually happening outside the buildings. now that he's getting a good look inside, he understands why no one would come in. he hears a floorboard creak behind him, quickly whipping around only to find . . . nothing. he continues on with a tired sigh.

He pushes furniture aside, dust attaching itself to his hands which he shakes off. "Eugh.. this is disgusting."

The further he goes into the building the less he's able to see—eventually relying on feeling around the room. "Should've brought a flashlight.." he grumbles, wincing as he walks into what might be a table. "Dammit."

he swears he hears people talking, but whatever he turns to the noise, he comes up with nothing. he's probably just paranoid . . . the desert is just too empty, too quiet. his brain must be making up noises to fill the silence.

that is, until he hears some glass shatter.

. . .

he stands still, back turned to the noise. almost as if he's waiting for whatever it is to strike first.

and one thing he knows about killjoys, is that they never go after someone alone - like the animals they are, it's almost as if they travel in packs.

taking home a few killjoys don't sound too bad after all.

McCoy raises his head—feeling vaguely like he's just heard something. Though after a moment of silence he decides it must've been his imagination. Eventually he makes his way back to the only light source in the room.

However, he stops just before getting to the doorway and reaches for his radio. It seems like he should ask just to be sure nothing's happened.

gunshots ring out from the building alecsander is in, then it falls silent again.

inside, he wrestles a masked killjoy for his gun, shots flying everywhere. he managed to get one in a headshot, but the second one is putting up too much of a fight.

he knows there's more around - having seen a few run out of the building he's in once his gun first went off. as worried as he is, mccoy should surely be able to handle himself.

more shots echo through the desert.

McCoy runs straight for the building Alecsander seems to be in—a hand fumbling to get his raygun from its holster.

He manages to get his raygun out, but a sound near him stops him in his tracks and he turns around—narrowly avoiding being shot at. A shot of his own rings out and he returns to his job of finding his coworker.

Though, before he can make it there, a blur of colour rushes past him. For a moment it seems like nothing really happened, until he starts to rush forward again and pain shoots throughout him—enough to knock him off his feet and into the sand.

McCoy wraps his arms around his stomach and curls into a ball—his t-shirt slashed and growing increasingly stained with red. "Dammit.."

Alecsander finally manages to disarm the killjoy, and after one more shot, he allows them to join their friend in the afterlife. he shakily stands up, grabbing onto a nearby wall for support.

he's drenched in blood and he's not sure who it belongs to anymore. but either way, he's relatively unharmed - all those terrible hours of training nonstop came in handy.

he reaches for his radio, tuning it to McCoy's signal. "McCoy, do you read me? where are you? i just got ambushed by some killjoys and i think there might be some more around." as he pauses waiting for an answer, he kicks at a floorboard. he pauses as it comes loose.

McCoy takes a shaky breath, his hands warm with his own blood. It takes him longer than he'd like to will himself to reach for his radio—his voice shaking as much as his hands. The antenna got bent when he fell, so mainly buzzing can be heard.

"--- outside.. - got ------- too." He hisses, setting the radio aside to focus on putting pressure on the wound. Surely what he said was enough for Alecsander to understand.

he pauses at the others words, standing silent for a moment. ". . . what? McCoy I - I can't hear you. you're - you're going to have to speak up. what's happened? are you okay?"

once he finishes speaking, the sound of static fills the air. after a moment of consideration, he crouches down to lift up the floorboard. he finds medical supplies, electronics, carbons, and many city branded things. he grins to himself, accomplished.

bingo.

He groans, curling up with his back up and his face pressed against the sand below. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat—his heartbeat in his ears. It seems the killjoys left, because if they had stayed he would've surely been killed. Either that or they'd prefer him to die slow.

The sun beats down on him—worsening how he feels. In all honesty he would rather have gotten ambushed in the creepy dark building.

he frowns when he gets no response from his coworker. he turns his radio off, and begins to walk out of the building.

once he sees McCoy curled up in the sand, he hurries over. blood from his clothes drips onto the sand as he crouches down next to him. "holy shit - what happened? i-" he pauses, checking him over. he reaches for his pulse, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow. he whispers to himself, "shit."

McCoy raises his head slightly, his glasses falling off his face. "Killjoys." He mutters, wincing as he takes a deep breath. "Prob'ly a kit in the car. Get it."

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

McCoy's eyes widen and he halfheartedly tries to push Alecsander off of him. "Yeah, zone four." He clears his throat, standing up straight again. "We'll head off now."

The higher up leaves them to it, unamused about the whole thing. McCoy turns back to his coworker, face slightly red. "Dude! I was talking! You can't just interrupt." He glares for a moment before sighing. "Whatever.. zone four. I'll drive this time."

he doesn't budge, boredly glancing around as if he has no clue as to what's happening. he watches their superior walk off, still not letting go.

he glances down at the other, slightly confused. "interrupt? i didn't interrupt. i was just standing here listening." he frowns at the suggestion of driving ". . . are you even allowed to?" he releases mccoy from his arms, crossing them now.

"No, you interrupted." His words lack any actual bite, but there's still slight annoyance.

McCoy shrugs, a small grin on his face. "Well, I don't think it matters. I can drive just as well as you. Plus, I doubt they'd even notice."

he scoffs, turning around and beginning to make his way out to the patrol car. "fine. but if you crash, i'll never trust you to drive again. after all, i'd get in way more trouble for letting you drive . . ." he pauses at the door. "you better not mess this up for me. d'you have the keys?"

he walks outside, the air still chilly from the morning wind. he checks his phone to look at what their mission is, frowning when he realises they have to go all the way out to zone four. he mutters to himself about it being a waste of time, now looking very unimpressed.

"I only crashed that one time, and it wasn't my fault." He holds up the keys and unlocks the car, feeling much more at home in the driver's seat.

"I don't wanna go all the way to four, but it's supposed to be a pretty quick mission, so maybe we'll get back before dark." He shrugs, starting up the car and happily listening to the engine rumble. "Ah.. I missed driving. Ready?"

he huffs, climbing into the passenger seat, obviously internally sulking about not being able to drive. "wasn't your fault, huh? don't think that's how that works . . . but what do i know? i'm your passenger prince, aren't i?" he grins, putting his seatbelt on.

"you better not drive like a lunatic." he watches the other suspiciously, already bracing for the impact of a crash despite the fact they haven't moved.

"It wasn't! It was that stupid killjoy's fault." McCoy looks over at Alecsander, then looks away briefly. "Yeah, I guess now you are actually the passenger prince."

"I won't. Stop acting like I'll crash into a building or something." He puts the car into gear and goes ever so slightly over the speed limit—a smile plastered on his face as the car beeps because he's unbuckled.

he huffs out an amused laugh, briefly glancing over to judge the others . . . concerning driving skills.

he pauses, frowning at the car beeping. ". . .put your seatbelt on. i'm not going to listen to this sound for the whole ride."

"Fine." He sighs, but slows enough to safely buck up. "Once we get out to the zones we'll be at zone four in no time." McCoy brags, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

he frowns, rolling his eyes. "it'll be a miracle if we make it back to the city tonight alive." he hums, stretching his arms up. "what're we doing in zone four anyway? sounds to me like they're getting us to do their dirty work . . . first zone five now four? we're taking the jobs no one else wants."

"My driving isn't that terrible." He doesn't slow down at a checkpoint, instead just giving a brief wave out the window. "I was told there's important stuff that was taken by killjoys. Medical stuff, probably."

McCoy pushes the car to its limits, but it'll still take a bit to get all the way to four. "Seems like it. This one sounds easy enough, so I guess we got lucky this time."

he sighs, mentally preparing himself for a crash at some point during the day. ". . . you were supposed to slow down there so they could check the mission report." Alecsander smacks the other upside the head at this statement. "killjoys stealing stuff? whats new."

he briefly glances at the other, grinning as an idea pops into his head. "it is pretty lucky, isnt it? getting to go on another mission with you - what're the chances?" he hums, one of his hands sliding over to rest on the others thigh. "out of everyone else in our department - i suppose they must think we work well together."

"Well they'll hear it from someone." McCoy simply shrugs, then huffs when he gets smacked. "Don't hit me when I'm the one driving." He turns the radio up slightly to fill the silence between words. "I guess it's good stuff to send us out to get it."

McCoy looks away briefly, trying to hide a slight cringe. "I guess so. Or the others just really don't wanna work with us." He shrugs again, focusing on the road.

"well i wouldn't have to if you actually did your job properly."

he frowns when he gets no reaction out of mccoy, retracting his hand. he sighs, beginning to play with the radio stations. "i don't see why people wouldn't want to work with us. you know, back before i got re-educated people would fight over me . . . you should've seen it. it was embarrassing, honestly!"

"Who says I'm doing it wrong?" He grins, the expression fleeting.

McCoy just listens for a moment; eventually giving his coworker a look of disbelief. "Fighting? Over you?" Despite himself he laughs—the sound loud but not harsh—and wipes an eye. "That's funny, man. If we crash it's gonna be your fault 'cause you keep distracting me."

he huffs. "me. i've genuinely never seen anyone be as shit at their job as you."

he grins once mccoy starts laughing, biting back one himself. "i'm telling you, man. everyone wanted to work with me . . . no one could keep their hands off me." the briefly glances at the other, his face turning slightly red. the laughter is music to his ears - a sound only he has the privilege of hearing right now. no one else. he continues "hm? i'm distracting you, am i? perhaps you really shouldn't be driving."

"Hey, you can't say that about the guy who climbed the radio tower." He smiles, glancing over at Alecsander again.

"Yeah.. are you sure they weren't trying to fight you?" McCoy sinks back into the seat. The smile hasn't left him yet. "You drove last time, I'm not letting you switch now." He adjusts his glasses. "Maybe the passenger prince needs to sit in the back?"

"you weren't very enthusiastic about doing it though, were you?" he tilts his head, glancing over once more. "seemed like you spent more time upside down than actually fixing the thing . . ." he shrugs. "you did look pretty doing it though, i'll give you that."

he hums, his genuine smile more of a . . . smirk. "you know, now that i think about it they did all have their guns pointed at me"

he huffs. "what? you don't like me sitting up here with you? it's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off me . . ."

"Nope." He pops the 'p'. "But I got it fixed. You spent the whole time smoking if I remember right.." He trails off, face going slightly red at the casual compliment.

"Then I think that means they wanted you dead." He shrugs, smiling. "Although.. I'm not sure why they had their guns pointed at you in the first place. I'm sure that's against city laws."

McCoy quickly side-eyes his coworker. "What? I'm not even looking at you, I'm watching the road." They pass a large sign and McCoy squints up at the rearview mirror. "I think that said we just left two."

he shrugs. "i mean, i drove all the way there. is it such a crime to take a small break?"

he huffs out a laugh. "really? i took it as a compliment . . . they couldn't contain their excitement perhaps?"

he turns his attention to watching the sandy dunes pass by outside. he dramatically sighs, obviously messing with the other now. "honestly, McCoy, keep your attention on the road . . . it's almost embarrassing how your eyes continue to trail back to me . . ." he frowns. "we've left two already? how fast are you going?"

"No but it should be a crime to leave your coworker hanging."

He huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, man. If it helps you sleep at night."

". . .Stop being weird, we've got work to do." Despite saying that he's definitely blushing, although he turns his face away. "And I'm going.. about 78. Not too fast."

"it's not my fault you kept slipping off the ladder. i mean, how hard is it to climb up then back down again? i probably could've done it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back."

he playfully rolls his eyes in response before speaking up again. "what? i'm not doing anything. i'm just trying to have a normal conversation with my lovely coworker!"

he blinks once, then twice, before slowly turning to face McCoy. ". . .78? alright . . . there's no way i'm getting back home alive . . ."

"How the hell do you expect to climb a ladder with your hands tied? We both know you'd fall off the first step."

He almost gives Alecsander a look, but decides against it after the recent teasing. "Sure. And I'm not driving right now."

McCoy gives the speedometer a quick glance. "What? 78 isn't even that fast. I bet we're gonna get there and back before the sun sets thanks to my driving." He kicks it up to about 80. "And you're being too pessimistic."

he shrugs. "i'd find a way."

he's about to come back with a witty remark, before McCoy speeds up even more. his hands quickly grip onto his seat and the inside wall of the door next to him. he winces, tensing up. "it's not a race, you know . . . it doesn't matter if we get back before sunset or not. it's not like you have anything better to be doing than going on this mission." he frowns, trying to sit straight in his seat again. "i'm just being realistic"

This time he looks over, easing off the gas. "I know that. Look, we're entering four now! How lucky." He slows down even more, keeping an eye out.

"He said the stuff should be in some old building somewhere. Guess they're trackin' it or something." He shrugs. "Might be further in though. Just keep an eye out."

he grumbles, looking out the window once more. his voice drips with sarcasm. "just in any old building? sure does narrow it down, huh?"

he frowns, scanning any buildings they go past for suspicious activity. "theres a lot around here . . . i'm sure i've heard killjoys often hide out around here since theres a lot of shelter - perhaps we should split up to cover more ground? or else we'll be here all day."

"Yeah, it's real helpful." He grumbles as well, the car now slowing to a crawl.

McCoy thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure. It looks like these are abandoned anyway, and.." he grins, showing his holster. "I got my raygun back for this mission. Dunno why 'cause I doubt I'll need it, but maybe we'll get lucky and bring back a killjoy this time!"

"got your raygun back, huh? well now, let's just hope that you can aim properly." he grins, climbing out of the car. he stretches, very pleased to be out of that death trap McCoy was driving. "bringing a killjoy back as a little trophy don't sound too bad at all."

he pauses for a moment as he glances around. it's eerily quiet . . . as if the whole desert came to a standstill once he got out. his piercing gaze searching, coming up with nothing. he glances back to the other. "well then, i suppose i'll head off this way and you go the other way? if you find what we're looking for, make sure to radio me." he turns his attention back to the line of abandoned buildings in front of him, muttering. "i want to get this over quickly."

"Of course I know how to aim. I was trained, you know." He rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, locking the doors behind him. "Yup. We might even get a promotion!"

McCoy looks in the opposite directions that Alecsander does—eventually deeming the area safe enough. "Alright. If you see any killjoys or anything tell me." He crosses his arms, a grin on his face. "Wonder who'll find it first. . .Well, sooner we find it the sooner we can leave."

He starts to head off in the opposite direction, his eyes wandering. "Have fun!"

"i better get a promotion . . . after all, i was the only one brave enough to be in the car with you while you drove." he begins to walk off, hand lingering on the holster attached to his belt.

he grins, turning back to yell one last thing. "if i find it first you owe me a kiss!" he then runs off, eager to win. he disappears into the furthest building, the smell of dust instantly hitting him as he enters "ugh . . . gross."

"Well I was brave enough to drive." He shrugs, smiling.

McCoy whirls around at that moment. "What?!" There's a second before he sighs and continues his way into the building ahead of him—the door creaking loudly as he pushes it. "That's not creepy at all.." He takes a breath and goes in.

The inside is dark—dust layered upon every remaining piece of furniture in sheets. A clank grabs McCoy's attention and he looks down, noticing empty cans on the ground. "Dog food? Is that what they're eating out here?"

he slowly walks around the dark building, the only light source being from the smashed windows. he looks under floor planks and behind doors, there not being many hiding spots for killjoy loot. he finds old weapons and empty cans. nothing useful.

shortly thereafter, he moves to the next building, this one being . . . cleaner. seeming to be visited more regularly. after a moment, he sneezes from all the dust he inhales. "ugh . . . i do not miss being out here . . ." in fact, he remembers coming here quite a few times with xenon, bonfires and get-together usually happening outside the buildings. now that he's getting a good look inside, he understands why no one would come in. he hears a floorboard creak behind him, quickly whipping around only to find . . . nothing. he continues on with a tired sigh.

He pushes furniture aside, dust attaching itself to his hands which he shakes off. "Eugh.. this is disgusting."

The further he goes into the building the less he's able to see—eventually relying on feeling around the room. "Should've brought a flashlight.." he grumbles, wincing as he walks into what might be a table. "Dammit."

he swears he hears people talking, but whatever he turns to the noise, he comes up with nothing. he's probably just paranoid . . . the desert is just too empty, too quiet. his brain must be making up noises to fill the silence.

that is, until he hears some glass shatter.

. . .

he stands still, back turned to the noise. almost as if he's waiting for whatever it is to strike first.

and one thing he knows about killjoys, is that they never go after someone alone - like the animals they are, it's almost as if they travel in packs.

taking home a few killjoys don't sound too bad after all.

McCoy raises his head—feeling vaguely like he's just heard something. Though after a moment of silence he decides it must've been his imagination. Eventually he makes his way back to the only light source in the room.

However, he stops just before getting to the doorway and reaches for his radio. It seems like he should ask just to be sure nothing's happened.

gunshots ring out from the building alecsander is in, then it falls silent again.

inside, he wrestles a masked killjoy for his gun, shots flying everywhere. he managed to get one in a headshot, but the second one is putting up too much of a fight.

he knows there's more around - having seen a few run out of the building he's in once his gun first went off. as worried as he is, mccoy should surely be able to handle himself.

more shots echo through the desert.

McCoy runs straight for the building Alecsander seems to be in—a hand fumbling to get his raygun from its holster.

He manages to get his raygun out, but a sound near him stops him in his tracks and he turns around—narrowly avoiding being shot at. A shot of his own rings out and he returns to his job of finding his coworker.

Though, before he can make it there, a blur of colour rushes past him. For a moment it seems like nothing really happened, until he starts to rush forward again and pain shoots throughout him—enough to knock him off his feet and into the sand.

McCoy wraps his arms around his stomach and curls into a ball—his t-shirt slashed and growing increasingly stained with red. "Dammit.."

Alecsander finally manages to disarm the killjoy, and after one more shot, he allows them to join their friend in the afterlife. he shakily stands up, grabbing onto a nearby wall for support.

he's drenched in blood and he's not sure who it belongs to anymore. but either way, he's relatively unharmed - all those terrible hours of training nonstop came in handy.

he reaches for his radio, tuning it to McCoy's signal. "McCoy, do you read me? where are you? i just got ambushed by some killjoys and i think there might be some more around." as he pauses waiting for an answer, he kicks at a floorboard. he pauses as it comes loose.

McCoy takes a shaky breath, his hands warm with his own blood. It takes him longer than he'd like to will himself to reach for his radio—his voice shaking as much as his hands. The antenna got bent when he fell, so mainly buzzing can be heard.

"--- outside.. - got ------- too." He hisses, setting the radio aside to focus on putting pressure on the wound. Surely what he said was enough for Alecsander to understand.

he pauses at the others words, standing silent for a moment. ". . . what? McCoy I - I can't hear you. you're - you're going to have to speak up. what's happened? are you okay?"

once he finishes speaking, the sound of static fills the air. after a moment of consideration, he crouches down to lift up the floorboard. he finds medical supplies, electronics, carbons, and many city branded things. he grins to himself, accomplished.

bingo.

He groans, curling up with his back up and his face pressed against the sand below. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat—his heartbeat in his ears. It seems the killjoys left, because if they had stayed he would've surely been killed. Either that or they'd prefer him to die slow.

The sun beats down on him—worsening how he feels. In all honesty he would rather have gotten ambushed in the creepy dark building.

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

McCoy's eyes widen and he halfheartedly tries to push Alecsander off of him. "Yeah, zone four." He clears his throat, standing up straight again. "We'll head off now."

The higher up leaves them to it, unamused about the whole thing. McCoy turns back to his coworker, face slightly red. "Dude! I was talking! You can't just interrupt." He glares for a moment before sighing. "Whatever.. zone four. I'll drive this time."

he doesn't budge, boredly glancing around as if he has no clue as to what's happening. he watches their superior walk off, still not letting go.

he glances down at the other, slightly confused. "interrupt? i didn't interrupt. i was just standing here listening." he frowns at the suggestion of driving ". . . are you even allowed to?" he releases mccoy from his arms, crossing them now.

"No, you interrupted." His words lack any actual bite, but there's still slight annoyance.

McCoy shrugs, a small grin on his face. "Well, I don't think it matters. I can drive just as well as you. Plus, I doubt they'd even notice."

he scoffs, turning around and beginning to make his way out to the patrol car. "fine. but if you crash, i'll never trust you to drive again. after all, i'd get in way more trouble for letting you drive . . ." he pauses at the door. "you better not mess this up for me. d'you have the keys?"

he walks outside, the air still chilly from the morning wind. he checks his phone to look at what their mission is, frowning when he realises they have to go all the way out to zone four. he mutters to himself about it being a waste of time, now looking very unimpressed.

"I only crashed that one time, and it wasn't my fault." He holds up the keys and unlocks the car, feeling much more at home in the driver's seat.

"I don't wanna go all the way to four, but it's supposed to be a pretty quick mission, so maybe we'll get back before dark." He shrugs, starting up the car and happily listening to the engine rumble. "Ah.. I missed driving. Ready?"

he huffs, climbing into the passenger seat, obviously internally sulking about not being able to drive. "wasn't your fault, huh? don't think that's how that works . . . but what do i know? i'm your passenger prince, aren't i?" he grins, putting his seatbelt on.

"you better not drive like a lunatic." he watches the other suspiciously, already bracing for the impact of a crash despite the fact they haven't moved.

"It wasn't! It was that stupid killjoy's fault." McCoy looks over at Alecsander, then looks away briefly. "Yeah, I guess now you are actually the passenger prince."

"I won't. Stop acting like I'll crash into a building or something." He puts the car into gear and goes ever so slightly over the speed limit—a smile plastered on his face as the car beeps because he's unbuckled.

he huffs out an amused laugh, briefly glancing over to judge the others . . . concerning driving skills.

he pauses, frowning at the car beeping. ". . .put your seatbelt on. i'm not going to listen to this sound for the whole ride."

"Fine." He sighs, but slows enough to safely buck up. "Once we get out to the zones we'll be at zone four in no time." McCoy brags, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

he frowns, rolling his eyes. "it'll be a miracle if we make it back to the city tonight alive." he hums, stretching his arms up. "what're we doing in zone four anyway? sounds to me like they're getting us to do their dirty work . . . first zone five now four? we're taking the jobs no one else wants."

"My driving isn't that terrible." He doesn't slow down at a checkpoint, instead just giving a brief wave out the window. "I was told there's important stuff that was taken by killjoys. Medical stuff, probably."

McCoy pushes the car to its limits, but it'll still take a bit to get all the way to four. "Seems like it. This one sounds easy enough, so I guess we got lucky this time."

he sighs, mentally preparing himself for a crash at some point during the day. ". . . you were supposed to slow down there so they could check the mission report." Alecsander smacks the other upside the head at this statement. "killjoys stealing stuff? whats new."

he briefly glances at the other, grinning as an idea pops into his head. "it is pretty lucky, isnt it? getting to go on another mission with you - what're the chances?" he hums, one of his hands sliding over to rest on the others thigh. "out of everyone else in our department - i suppose they must think we work well together."

"Well they'll hear it from someone." McCoy simply shrugs, then huffs when he gets smacked. "Don't hit me when I'm the one driving." He turns the radio up slightly to fill the silence between words. "I guess it's good stuff to send us out to get it."

McCoy looks away briefly, trying to hide a slight cringe. "I guess so. Or the others just really don't wanna work with us." He shrugs again, focusing on the road.

"well i wouldn't have to if you actually did your job properly."

he frowns when he gets no reaction out of mccoy, retracting his hand. he sighs, beginning to play with the radio stations. "i don't see why people wouldn't want to work with us. you know, back before i got re-educated people would fight over me . . . you should've seen it. it was embarrassing, honestly!"

"Who says I'm doing it wrong?" He grins, the expression fleeting.

McCoy just listens for a moment; eventually giving his coworker a look of disbelief. "Fighting? Over you?" Despite himself he laughs—the sound loud but not harsh—and wipes an eye. "That's funny, man. If we crash it's gonna be your fault 'cause you keep distracting me."

he huffs. "me. i've genuinely never seen anyone be as shit at their job as you."

he grins once mccoy starts laughing, biting back one himself. "i'm telling you, man. everyone wanted to work with me . . . no one could keep their hands off me." the briefly glances at the other, his face turning slightly red. the laughter is music to his ears - a sound only he has the privilege of hearing right now. no one else. he continues "hm? i'm distracting you, am i? perhaps you really shouldn't be driving."

"Hey, you can't say that about the guy who climbed the radio tower." He smiles, glancing over at Alecsander again.

"Yeah.. are you sure they weren't trying to fight you?" McCoy sinks back into the seat. The smile hasn't left him yet. "You drove last time, I'm not letting you switch now." He adjusts his glasses. "Maybe the passenger prince needs to sit in the back?"

"you weren't very enthusiastic about doing it though, were you?" he tilts his head, glancing over once more. "seemed like you spent more time upside down than actually fixing the thing . . ." he shrugs. "you did look pretty doing it though, i'll give you that."

he hums, his genuine smile more of a . . . smirk. "you know, now that i think about it they did all have their guns pointed at me"

he huffs. "what? you don't like me sitting up here with you? it's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off me . . ."

"Nope." He pops the 'p'. "But I got it fixed. You spent the whole time smoking if I remember right.." He trails off, face going slightly red at the casual compliment.

"Then I think that means they wanted you dead." He shrugs, smiling. "Although.. I'm not sure why they had their guns pointed at you in the first place. I'm sure that's against city laws."

McCoy quickly side-eyes his coworker. "What? I'm not even looking at you, I'm watching the road." They pass a large sign and McCoy squints up at the rearview mirror. "I think that said we just left two."

he shrugs. "i mean, i drove all the way there. is it such a crime to take a small break?"

he huffs out a laugh. "really? i took it as a compliment . . . they couldn't contain their excitement perhaps?"

he turns his attention to watching the sandy dunes pass by outside. he dramatically sighs, obviously messing with the other now. "honestly, McCoy, keep your attention on the road . . . it's almost embarrassing how your eyes continue to trail back to me . . ." he frowns. "we've left two already? how fast are you going?"

"No but it should be a crime to leave your coworker hanging."

He huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, man. If it helps you sleep at night."

". . .Stop being weird, we've got work to do." Despite saying that he's definitely blushing, although he turns his face away. "And I'm going.. about 78. Not too fast."

"it's not my fault you kept slipping off the ladder. i mean, how hard is it to climb up then back down again? i probably could've done it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back."

he playfully rolls his eyes in response before speaking up again. "what? i'm not doing anything. i'm just trying to have a normal conversation with my lovely coworker!"

he blinks once, then twice, before slowly turning to face McCoy. ". . .78? alright . . . there's no way i'm getting back home alive . . ."

"How the hell do you expect to climb a ladder with your hands tied? We both know you'd fall off the first step."

He almost gives Alecsander a look, but decides against it after the recent teasing. "Sure. And I'm not driving right now."

McCoy gives the speedometer a quick glance. "What? 78 isn't even that fast. I bet we're gonna get there and back before the sun sets thanks to my driving." He kicks it up to about 80. "And you're being too pessimistic."

he shrugs. "i'd find a way."

he's about to come back with a witty remark, before McCoy speeds up even more. his hands quickly grip onto his seat and the inside wall of the door next to him. he winces, tensing up. "it's not a race, you know . . . it doesn't matter if we get back before sunset or not. it's not like you have anything better to be doing than going on this mission." he frowns, trying to sit straight in his seat again. "i'm just being realistic"

This time he looks over, easing off the gas. "I know that. Look, we're entering four now! How lucky." He slows down even more, keeping an eye out.

"He said the stuff should be in some old building somewhere. Guess they're trackin' it or something." He shrugs. "Might be further in though. Just keep an eye out."

he grumbles, looking out the window once more. his voice drips with sarcasm. "just in any old building? sure does narrow it down, huh?"

he frowns, scanning any buildings they go past for suspicious activity. "theres a lot around here . . . i'm sure i've heard killjoys often hide out around here since theres a lot of shelter - perhaps we should split up to cover more ground? or else we'll be here all day."

"Yeah, it's real helpful." He grumbles as well, the car now slowing to a crawl.

McCoy thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure. It looks like these are abandoned anyway, and.." he grins, showing his holster. "I got my raygun back for this mission. Dunno why 'cause I doubt I'll need it, but maybe we'll get lucky and bring back a killjoy this time!"

"got your raygun back, huh? well now, let's just hope that you can aim properly." he grins, climbing out of the car. he stretches, very pleased to be out of that death trap McCoy was driving. "bringing a killjoy back as a little trophy don't sound too bad at all."

he pauses for a moment as he glances around. it's eerily quiet . . . as if the whole desert came to a standstill once he got out. his piercing gaze searching, coming up with nothing. he glances back to the other. "well then, i suppose i'll head off this way and you go the other way? if you find what we're looking for, make sure to radio me." he turns his attention back to the line of abandoned buildings in front of him, muttering. "i want to get this over quickly."

"Of course I know how to aim. I was trained, you know." He rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, locking the doors behind him. "Yup. We might even get a promotion!"

McCoy looks in the opposite directions that Alecsander does—eventually deeming the area safe enough. "Alright. If you see any killjoys or anything tell me." He crosses his arms, a grin on his face. "Wonder who'll find it first. . .Well, sooner we find it the sooner we can leave."

He starts to head off in the opposite direction, his eyes wandering. "Have fun!"

"i better get a promotion . . . after all, i was the only one brave enough to be in the car with you while you drove." he begins to walk off, hand lingering on the holster attached to his belt.

he grins, turning back to yell one last thing. "if i find it first you owe me a kiss!" he then runs off, eager to win. he disappears into the furthest building, the smell of dust instantly hitting him as he enters "ugh . . . gross."

"Well I was brave enough to drive." He shrugs, smiling.

McCoy whirls around at that moment. "What?!" There's a second before he sighs and continues his way into the building ahead of him—the door creaking loudly as he pushes it. "That's not creepy at all.." He takes a breath and goes in.

The inside is dark—dust layered upon every remaining piece of furniture in sheets. A clank grabs McCoy's attention and he looks down, noticing empty cans on the ground. "Dog food? Is that what they're eating out here?"

he slowly walks around the dark building, the only light source being from the smashed windows. he looks under floor planks and behind doors, there not being many hiding spots for killjoy loot. he finds old weapons and empty cans. nothing useful.

shortly thereafter, he moves to the next building, this one being . . . cleaner. seeming to be visited more regularly. after a moment, he sneezes from all the dust he inhales. "ugh . . . i do not miss being out here . . ." in fact, he remembers coming here quite a few times with xenon, bonfires and get-together usually happening outside the buildings. now that he's getting a good look inside, he understands why no one would come in. he hears a floorboard creak behind him, quickly whipping around only to find . . . nothing. he continues on with a tired sigh.

He pushes furniture aside, dust attaching itself to his hands which he shakes off. "Eugh.. this is disgusting."

The further he goes into the building the less he's able to see—eventually relying on feeling around the room. "Should've brought a flashlight.." he grumbles, wincing as he walks into what might be a table. "Dammit."

he swears he hears people talking, but whatever he turns to the noise, he comes up with nothing. he's probably just paranoid . . . the desert is just too empty, too quiet. his brain must be making up noises to fill the silence.

that is, until he hears some glass shatter.

. . .

he stands still, back turned to the noise. almost as if he's waiting for whatever it is to strike first.

and one thing he knows about killjoys, is that they never go after someone alone - like the animals they are, it's almost as if they travel in packs.

taking home a few killjoys don't sound too bad after all.

McCoy raises his head—feeling vaguely like he's just heard something. Though after a moment of silence he decides it must've been his imagination. Eventually he makes his way back to the only light source in the room.

However, he stops just before getting to the doorway and reaches for his radio. It seems like he should ask just to be sure nothing's happened.

gunshots ring out from the building alecsander is in, then it falls silent again.

inside, he wrestles a masked killjoy for his gun, shots flying everywhere. he managed to get one in a headshot, but the second one is putting up too much of a fight.

he knows there's more around - having seen a few run out of the building he's in once his gun first went off. as worried as he is, mccoy should surely be able to handle himself.

more shots echo through the desert.

McCoy runs straight for the building Alecsander seems to be in—a hand fumbling to get his raygun from its holster.

He manages to get his raygun out, but a sound near him stops him in his tracks and he turns around—narrowly avoiding being shot at. A shot of his own rings out and he returns to his job of finding his coworker.

Though, before he can make it there, a blur of colour rushes past him. For a moment it seems like nothing really happened, until he starts to rush forward again and pain shoots throughout him—enough to knock him off his feet and into the sand.

McCoy wraps his arms around his stomach and curls into a ball—his t-shirt slashed and growing increasingly stained with red. "Dammit.."

Alecsander finally manages to disarm the killjoy, and after one more shot, he allows them to join their friend in the afterlife. he shakily stands up, grabbing onto a nearby wall for support.

he's drenched in blood and he's not sure who it belongs to anymore. but either way, he's relatively unharmed - all those terrible hours of training nonstop came in handy.

he reaches for his radio, tuning it to McCoy's signal. "McCoy, do you read me? where are you? i just got ambushed by some killjoys and i think there might be some more around." as he pauses waiting for an answer, he kicks at a floorboard. he pauses as it comes loose.

McCoy takes a shaky breath, his hands warm with his own blood. It takes him longer than he'd like to will himself to reach for his radio—his voice shaking as much as his hands. The antenna got bent when he fell, so mainly buzzing can be heard.

"--- outside.. - got ------- too." He hisses, setting the radio aside to focus on putting pressure on the wound. Surely what he said was enough for Alecsander to understand.

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

McCoy's eyes widen and he halfheartedly tries to push Alecsander off of him. "Yeah, zone four." He clears his throat, standing up straight again. "We'll head off now."

The higher up leaves them to it, unamused about the whole thing. McCoy turns back to his coworker, face slightly red. "Dude! I was talking! You can't just interrupt." He glares for a moment before sighing. "Whatever.. zone four. I'll drive this time."

he doesn't budge, boredly glancing around as if he has no clue as to what's happening. he watches their superior walk off, still not letting go.

he glances down at the other, slightly confused. "interrupt? i didn't interrupt. i was just standing here listening." he frowns at the suggestion of driving ". . . are you even allowed to?" he releases mccoy from his arms, crossing them now.

"No, you interrupted." His words lack any actual bite, but there's still slight annoyance.

McCoy shrugs, a small grin on his face. "Well, I don't think it matters. I can drive just as well as you. Plus, I doubt they'd even notice."

he scoffs, turning around and beginning to make his way out to the patrol car. "fine. but if you crash, i'll never trust you to drive again. after all, i'd get in way more trouble for letting you drive . . ." he pauses at the door. "you better not mess this up for me. d'you have the keys?"

he walks outside, the air still chilly from the morning wind. he checks his phone to look at what their mission is, frowning when he realises they have to go all the way out to zone four. he mutters to himself about it being a waste of time, now looking very unimpressed.

"I only crashed that one time, and it wasn't my fault." He holds up the keys and unlocks the car, feeling much more at home in the driver's seat.

"I don't wanna go all the way to four, but it's supposed to be a pretty quick mission, so maybe we'll get back before dark." He shrugs, starting up the car and happily listening to the engine rumble. "Ah.. I missed driving. Ready?"

he huffs, climbing into the passenger seat, obviously internally sulking about not being able to drive. "wasn't your fault, huh? don't think that's how that works . . . but what do i know? i'm your passenger prince, aren't i?" he grins, putting his seatbelt on.

"you better not drive like a lunatic." he watches the other suspiciously, already bracing for the impact of a crash despite the fact they haven't moved.

"It wasn't! It was that stupid killjoy's fault." McCoy looks over at Alecsander, then looks away briefly. "Yeah, I guess now you are actually the passenger prince."

"I won't. Stop acting like I'll crash into a building or something." He puts the car into gear and goes ever so slightly over the speed limit—a smile plastered on his face as the car beeps because he's unbuckled.

he huffs out an amused laugh, briefly glancing over to judge the others . . . concerning driving skills.

he pauses, frowning at the car beeping. ". . .put your seatbelt on. i'm not going to listen to this sound for the whole ride."

"Fine." He sighs, but slows enough to safely buck up. "Once we get out to the zones we'll be at zone four in no time." McCoy brags, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

he frowns, rolling his eyes. "it'll be a miracle if we make it back to the city tonight alive." he hums, stretching his arms up. "what're we doing in zone four anyway? sounds to me like they're getting us to do their dirty work . . . first zone five now four? we're taking the jobs no one else wants."

"My driving isn't that terrible." He doesn't slow down at a checkpoint, instead just giving a brief wave out the window. "I was told there's important stuff that was taken by killjoys. Medical stuff, probably."

McCoy pushes the car to its limits, but it'll still take a bit to get all the way to four. "Seems like it. This one sounds easy enough, so I guess we got lucky this time."

he sighs, mentally preparing himself for a crash at some point during the day. ". . . you were supposed to slow down there so they could check the mission report." Alecsander smacks the other upside the head at this statement. "killjoys stealing stuff? whats new."

he briefly glances at the other, grinning as an idea pops into his head. "it is pretty lucky, isnt it? getting to go on another mission with you - what're the chances?" he hums, one of his hands sliding over to rest on the others thigh. "out of everyone else in our department - i suppose they must think we work well together."

"Well they'll hear it from someone." McCoy simply shrugs, then huffs when he gets smacked. "Don't hit me when I'm the one driving." He turns the radio up slightly to fill the silence between words. "I guess it's good stuff to send us out to get it."

McCoy looks away briefly, trying to hide a slight cringe. "I guess so. Or the others just really don't wanna work with us." He shrugs again, focusing on the road.

"well i wouldn't have to if you actually did your job properly."

he frowns when he gets no reaction out of mccoy, retracting his hand. he sighs, beginning to play with the radio stations. "i don't see why people wouldn't want to work with us. you know, back before i got re-educated people would fight over me . . . you should've seen it. it was embarrassing, honestly!"

"Who says I'm doing it wrong?" He grins, the expression fleeting.

McCoy just listens for a moment; eventually giving his coworker a look of disbelief. "Fighting? Over you?" Despite himself he laughs—the sound loud but not harsh—and wipes an eye. "That's funny, man. If we crash it's gonna be your fault 'cause you keep distracting me."

he huffs. "me. i've genuinely never seen anyone be as shit at their job as you."

he grins once mccoy starts laughing, biting back one himself. "i'm telling you, man. everyone wanted to work with me . . . no one could keep their hands off me." the briefly glances at the other, his face turning slightly red. the laughter is music to his ears - a sound only he has the privilege of hearing right now. no one else. he continues "hm? i'm distracting you, am i? perhaps you really shouldn't be driving."

"Hey, you can't say that about the guy who climbed the radio tower." He smiles, glancing over at Alecsander again.

"Yeah.. are you sure they weren't trying to fight you?" McCoy sinks back into the seat. The smile hasn't left him yet. "You drove last time, I'm not letting you switch now." He adjusts his glasses. "Maybe the passenger prince needs to sit in the back?"

"you weren't very enthusiastic about doing it though, were you?" he tilts his head, glancing over once more. "seemed like you spent more time upside down than actually fixing the thing . . ." he shrugs. "you did look pretty doing it though, i'll give you that."

he hums, his genuine smile more of a . . . smirk. "you know, now that i think about it they did all have their guns pointed at me"

he huffs. "what? you don't like me sitting up here with you? it's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off me . . ."

"Nope." He pops the 'p'. "But I got it fixed. You spent the whole time smoking if I remember right.." He trails off, face going slightly red at the casual compliment.

"Then I think that means they wanted you dead." He shrugs, smiling. "Although.. I'm not sure why they had their guns pointed at you in the first place. I'm sure that's against city laws."

McCoy quickly side-eyes his coworker. "What? I'm not even looking at you, I'm watching the road." They pass a large sign and McCoy squints up at the rearview mirror. "I think that said we just left two."

he shrugs. "i mean, i drove all the way there. is it such a crime to take a small break?"

he huffs out a laugh. "really? i took it as a compliment . . . they couldn't contain their excitement perhaps?"

he turns his attention to watching the sandy dunes pass by outside. he dramatically sighs, obviously messing with the other now. "honestly, McCoy, keep your attention on the road . . . it's almost embarrassing how your eyes continue to trail back to me . . ." he frowns. "we've left two already? how fast are you going?"

"No but it should be a crime to leave your coworker hanging."

He huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, man. If it helps you sleep at night."

". . .Stop being weird, we've got work to do." Despite saying that he's definitely blushing, although he turns his face away. "And I'm going.. about 78. Not too fast."

"it's not my fault you kept slipping off the ladder. i mean, how hard is it to climb up then back down again? i probably could've done it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back."

he playfully rolls his eyes in response before speaking up again. "what? i'm not doing anything. i'm just trying to have a normal conversation with my lovely coworker!"

he blinks once, then twice, before slowly turning to face McCoy. ". . .78? alright . . . there's no way i'm getting back home alive . . ."

"How the hell do you expect to climb a ladder with your hands tied? We both know you'd fall off the first step."

He almost gives Alecsander a look, but decides against it after the recent teasing. "Sure. And I'm not driving right now."

McCoy gives the speedometer a quick glance. "What? 78 isn't even that fast. I bet we're gonna get there and back before the sun sets thanks to my driving." He kicks it up to about 80. "And you're being too pessimistic."

he shrugs. "i'd find a way."

he's about to come back with a witty remark, before McCoy speeds up even more. his hands quickly grip onto his seat and the inside wall of the door next to him. he winces, tensing up. "it's not a race, you know . . . it doesn't matter if we get back before sunset or not. it's not like you have anything better to be doing than going on this mission." he frowns, trying to sit straight in his seat again. "i'm just being realistic"

This time he looks over, easing off the gas. "I know that. Look, we're entering four now! How lucky." He slows down even more, keeping an eye out.

"He said the stuff should be in some old building somewhere. Guess they're trackin' it or something." He shrugs. "Might be further in though. Just keep an eye out."

he grumbles, looking out the window once more. his voice drips with sarcasm. "just in any old building? sure does narrow it down, huh?"

he frowns, scanning any buildings they go past for suspicious activity. "theres a lot around here . . . i'm sure i've heard killjoys often hide out around here since theres a lot of shelter - perhaps we should split up to cover more ground? or else we'll be here all day."

"Yeah, it's real helpful." He grumbles as well, the car now slowing to a crawl.

McCoy thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure. It looks like these are abandoned anyway, and.." he grins, showing his holster. "I got my raygun back for this mission. Dunno why 'cause I doubt I'll need it, but maybe we'll get lucky and bring back a killjoy this time!"

"got your raygun back, huh? well now, let's just hope that you can aim properly." he grins, climbing out of the car. he stretches, very pleased to be out of that death trap McCoy was driving. "bringing a killjoy back as a little trophy don't sound too bad at all."

he pauses for a moment as he glances around. it's eerily quiet . . . as if the whole desert came to a standstill once he got out. his piercing gaze searching, coming up with nothing. he glances back to the other. "well then, i suppose i'll head off this way and you go the other way? if you find what we're looking for, make sure to radio me." he turns his attention back to the line of abandoned buildings in front of him, muttering. "i want to get this over quickly."

"Of course I know how to aim. I was trained, you know." He rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, locking the doors behind him. "Yup. We might even get a promotion!"

McCoy looks in the opposite directions that Alecsander does—eventually deeming the area safe enough. "Alright. If you see any killjoys or anything tell me." He crosses his arms, a grin on his face. "Wonder who'll find it first. . .Well, sooner we find it the sooner we can leave."

He starts to head off in the opposite direction, his eyes wandering. "Have fun!"

"i better get a promotion . . . after all, i was the only one brave enough to be in the car with you while you drove." he begins to walk off, hand lingering on the holster attached to his belt.

he grins, turning back to yell one last thing. "if i find it first you owe me a kiss!" he then runs off, eager to win. he disappears into the furthest building, the smell of dust instantly hitting him as he enters "ugh . . . gross."

"Well I was brave enough to drive." He shrugs, smiling.

McCoy whirls around at that moment. "What?!" There's a second before he sighs and continues his way into the building ahead of him—the door creaking loudly as he pushes it. "That's not creepy at all.." He takes a breath and goes in.

The inside is dark—dust layered upon every remaining piece of furniture in sheets. A clank grabs McCoy's attention and he looks down, noticing empty cans on the ground. "Dog food? Is that what they're eating out here?"

he slowly walks around the dark building, the only light source being from the smashed windows. he looks under floor planks and behind doors, there not being many hiding spots for killjoy loot. he finds old weapons and empty cans. nothing useful.

shortly thereafter, he moves to the next building, this one being . . . cleaner. seeming to be visited more regularly. after a moment, he sneezes from all the dust he inhales. "ugh . . . i do not miss being out here . . ." in fact, he remembers coming here quite a few times with xenon, bonfires and get-together usually happening outside the buildings. now that he's getting a good look inside, he understands why no one would come in. he hears a floorboard creak behind him, quickly whipping around only to find . . . nothing. he continues on with a tired sigh.

He pushes furniture aside, dust attaching itself to his hands which he shakes off. "Eugh.. this is disgusting."

The further he goes into the building the less he's able to see—eventually relying on feeling around the room. "Should've brought a flashlight.." he grumbles, wincing as he walks into what might be a table. "Dammit."

he swears he hears people talking, but whatever he turns to the noise, he comes up with nothing. he's probably just paranoid . . . the desert is just too empty, too quiet. his brain must be making up noises to fill the silence.

that is, until he hears some glass shatter.

. . .

he stands still, back turned to the noise. almost as if he's waiting for whatever it is to strike first.

and one thing he knows about killjoys, is that they never go after someone alone - like the animals they are, it's almost as if they travel in packs.

taking home a few killjoys don't sound too bad after all.

McCoy raises his head—feeling vaguely like he's just heard something. Though after a moment of silence he decides it must've been his imagination. Eventually he makes his way back to the only light source in the room.

However, he stops just before getting to the doorway and reaches for his radio. It seems like he should ask just to be sure nothing's happened.

gunshots ring out from the building alecsander is in, then it falls silent again.

inside, he wrestles a masked killjoy for his gun, shots flying everywhere. he managed to get one in a headshot, but the second one is putting up too much of a fight.

he knows there's more around - having seen a few run out of the building he's in once his gun first went off. as worried as he is, mccoy should surely be able to handle himself.

more shots echo through the desert.

McCoy runs straight for the building Alecsander seems to be in—a hand fumbling to get his raygun from its holster.

He manages to get his raygun out, but a sound near him stops him in his tracks and he turns around—narrowly avoiding being shot at. A shot of his own rings out and he returns to his job of finding his coworker.

Though, before he can make it there, a blur of colour rushes past him. For a moment it seems like nothing really happened, until he starts to rush forward again and pain shoots throughout him—enough to knock him off his feet and into the sand.

McCoy wraps his arms around his stomach and curls into a ball—his t-shirt slashed and growing increasingly stained with red. "Dammit.."

#(( White boy down #(( gyurp I haven't written a fight scene in so long

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

McCoy's eyes widen and he halfheartedly tries to push Alecsander off of him. "Yeah, zone four." He clears his throat, standing up straight again. "We'll head off now."

The higher up leaves them to it, unamused about the whole thing. McCoy turns back to his coworker, face slightly red. "Dude! I was talking! You can't just interrupt." He glares for a moment before sighing. "Whatever.. zone four. I'll drive this time."

he doesn't budge, boredly glancing around as if he has no clue as to what's happening. he watches their superior walk off, still not letting go.

he glances down at the other, slightly confused. "interrupt? i didn't interrupt. i was just standing here listening." he frowns at the suggestion of driving ". . . are you even allowed to?" he releases mccoy from his arms, crossing them now.

"No, you interrupted." His words lack any actual bite, but there's still slight annoyance.

McCoy shrugs, a small grin on his face. "Well, I don't think it matters. I can drive just as well as you. Plus, I doubt they'd even notice."

he scoffs, turning around and beginning to make his way out to the patrol car. "fine. but if you crash, i'll never trust you to drive again. after all, i'd get in way more trouble for letting you drive . . ." he pauses at the door. "you better not mess this up for me. d'you have the keys?"

he walks outside, the air still chilly from the morning wind. he checks his phone to look at what their mission is, frowning when he realises they have to go all the way out to zone four. he mutters to himself about it being a waste of time, now looking very unimpressed.

"I only crashed that one time, and it wasn't my fault." He holds up the keys and unlocks the car, feeling much more at home in the driver's seat.

"I don't wanna go all the way to four, but it's supposed to be a pretty quick mission, so maybe we'll get back before dark." He shrugs, starting up the car and happily listening to the engine rumble. "Ah.. I missed driving. Ready?"

he huffs, climbing into the passenger seat, obviously internally sulking about not being able to drive. "wasn't your fault, huh? don't think that's how that works . . . but what do i know? i'm your passenger prince, aren't i?" he grins, putting his seatbelt on.

"you better not drive like a lunatic." he watches the other suspiciously, already bracing for the impact of a crash despite the fact they haven't moved.

"It wasn't! It was that stupid killjoy's fault." McCoy looks over at Alecsander, then looks away briefly. "Yeah, I guess now you are actually the passenger prince."

"I won't. Stop acting like I'll crash into a building or something." He puts the car into gear and goes ever so slightly over the speed limit—a smile plastered on his face as the car beeps because he's unbuckled.

he huffs out an amused laugh, briefly glancing over to judge the others . . . concerning driving skills.

he pauses, frowning at the car beeping. ". . .put your seatbelt on. i'm not going to listen to this sound for the whole ride."

"Fine." He sighs, but slows enough to safely buck up. "Once we get out to the zones we'll be at zone four in no time." McCoy brags, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

he frowns, rolling his eyes. "it'll be a miracle if we make it back to the city tonight alive." he hums, stretching his arms up. "what're we doing in zone four anyway? sounds to me like they're getting us to do their dirty work . . . first zone five now four? we're taking the jobs no one else wants."

"My driving isn't that terrible." He doesn't slow down at a checkpoint, instead just giving a brief wave out the window. "I was told there's important stuff that was taken by killjoys. Medical stuff, probably."

McCoy pushes the car to its limits, but it'll still take a bit to get all the way to four. "Seems like it. This one sounds easy enough, so I guess we got lucky this time."

he sighs, mentally preparing himself for a crash at some point during the day. ". . . you were supposed to slow down there so they could check the mission report." Alecsander smacks the other upside the head at this statement. "killjoys stealing stuff? whats new."

he briefly glances at the other, grinning as an idea pops into his head. "it is pretty lucky, isnt it? getting to go on another mission with you - what're the chances?" he hums, one of his hands sliding over to rest on the others thigh. "out of everyone else in our department - i suppose they must think we work well together."

"Well they'll hear it from someone." McCoy simply shrugs, then huffs when he gets smacked. "Don't hit me when I'm the one driving." He turns the radio up slightly to fill the silence between words. "I guess it's good stuff to send us out to get it."

McCoy looks away briefly, trying to hide a slight cringe. "I guess so. Or the others just really don't wanna work with us." He shrugs again, focusing on the road.

"well i wouldn't have to if you actually did your job properly."

he frowns when he gets no reaction out of mccoy, retracting his hand. he sighs, beginning to play with the radio stations. "i don't see why people wouldn't want to work with us. you know, back before i got re-educated people would fight over me . . . you should've seen it. it was embarrassing, honestly!"

"Who says I'm doing it wrong?" He grins, the expression fleeting.

McCoy just listens for a moment; eventually giving his coworker a look of disbelief. "Fighting? Over you?" Despite himself he laughs—the sound loud but not harsh—and wipes an eye. "That's funny, man. If we crash it's gonna be your fault 'cause you keep distracting me."

he huffs. "me. i've genuinely never seen anyone be as shit at their job as you."

he grins once mccoy starts laughing, biting back one himself. "i'm telling you, man. everyone wanted to work with me . . . no one could keep their hands off me." the briefly glances at the other, his face turning slightly red. the laughter is music to his ears - a sound only he has the privilege of hearing right now. no one else. he continues "hm? i'm distracting you, am i? perhaps you really shouldn't be driving."

"Hey, you can't say that about the guy who climbed the radio tower." He smiles, glancing over at Alecsander again.

"Yeah.. are you sure they weren't trying to fight you?" McCoy sinks back into the seat. The smile hasn't left him yet. "You drove last time, I'm not letting you switch now." He adjusts his glasses. "Maybe the passenger prince needs to sit in the back?"

"you weren't very enthusiastic about doing it though, were you?" he tilts his head, glancing over once more. "seemed like you spent more time upside down than actually fixing the thing . . ." he shrugs. "you did look pretty doing it though, i'll give you that."

he hums, his genuine smile more of a . . . smirk. "you know, now that i think about it they did all have their guns pointed at me"

he huffs. "what? you don't like me sitting up here with you? it's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off me . . ."

"Nope." He pops the 'p'. "But I got it fixed. You spent the whole time smoking if I remember right.." He trails off, face going slightly red at the casual compliment.

"Then I think that means they wanted you dead." He shrugs, smiling. "Although.. I'm not sure why they had their guns pointed at you in the first place. I'm sure that's against city laws."

McCoy quickly side-eyes his coworker. "What? I'm not even looking at you, I'm watching the road." They pass a large sign and McCoy squints up at the rearview mirror. "I think that said we just left two."

he shrugs. "i mean, i drove all the way there. is it such a crime to take a small break?"

he huffs out a laugh. "really? i took it as a compliment . . . they couldn't contain their excitement perhaps?"

he turns his attention to watching the sandy dunes pass by outside. he dramatically sighs, obviously messing with the other now. "honestly, McCoy, keep your attention on the road . . . it's almost embarrassing how your eyes continue to trail back to me . . ." he frowns. "we've left two already? how fast are you going?"

"No but it should be a crime to leave your coworker hanging."

He huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, man. If it helps you sleep at night."

". . .Stop being weird, we've got work to do." Despite saying that he's definitely blushing, although he turns his face away. "And I'm going.. about 78. Not too fast."

"it's not my fault you kept slipping off the ladder. i mean, how hard is it to climb up then back down again? i probably could've done it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back."

he playfully rolls his eyes in response before speaking up again. "what? i'm not doing anything. i'm just trying to have a normal conversation with my lovely coworker!"

he blinks once, then twice, before slowly turning to face McCoy. ". . .78? alright . . . there's no way i'm getting back home alive . . ."

"How the hell do you expect to climb a ladder with your hands tied? We both know you'd fall off the first step."

He almost gives Alecsander a look, but decides against it after the recent teasing. "Sure. And I'm not driving right now."

McCoy gives the speedometer a quick glance. "What? 78 isn't even that fast. I bet we're gonna get there and back before the sun sets thanks to my driving." He kicks it up to about 80. "And you're being too pessimistic."

he shrugs. "i'd find a way."

he's about to come back with a witty remark, before McCoy speeds up even more. his hands quickly grip onto his seat and the inside wall of the door next to him. he winces, tensing up. "it's not a race, you know . . . it doesn't matter if we get back before sunset or not. it's not like you have anything better to be doing than going on this mission." he frowns, trying to sit straight in his seat again. "i'm just being realistic"

This time he looks over, easing off the gas. "I know that. Look, we're entering four now! How lucky." He slows down even more, keeping an eye out.

"He said the stuff should be in some old building somewhere. Guess they're trackin' it or something." He shrugs. "Might be further in though. Just keep an eye out."

he grumbles, looking out the window once more. his voice drips with sarcasm. "just in any old building? sure does narrow it down, huh?"

he frowns, scanning any buildings they go past for suspicious activity. "theres a lot around here . . . i'm sure i've heard killjoys often hide out around here since theres a lot of shelter - perhaps we should split up to cover more ground? or else we'll be here all day."

"Yeah, it's real helpful." He grumbles as well, the car now slowing to a crawl.

McCoy thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure. It looks like these are abandoned anyway, and.." he grins, showing his holster. "I got my raygun back for this mission. Dunno why 'cause I doubt I'll need it, but maybe we'll get lucky and bring back a killjoy this time!"

"got your raygun back, huh? well now, let's just hope that you can aim properly." he grins, climbing out of the car. he stretches, very pleased to be out of that death trap McCoy was driving. "bringing a killjoy back as a little trophy don't sound too bad at all."

he pauses for a moment as he glances around. it's eerily quiet . . . as if the whole desert came to a standstill once he got out. his piercing gaze searching, coming up with nothing. he glances back to the other. "well then, i suppose i'll head off this way and you go the other way? if you find what we're looking for, make sure to radio me." he turns his attention back to the line of abandoned buildings in front of him, muttering. "i want to get this over quickly."

"Of course I know how to aim. I was trained, you know." He rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, locking the doors behind him. "Yup. We might even get a promotion!"

McCoy looks in the opposite directions that Alecsander does—eventually deeming the area safe enough. "Alright. If you see any killjoys or anything tell me." He crosses his arms, a grin on his face. "Wonder who'll find it first. . .Well, sooner we find it the sooner we can leave."

He starts to head off in the opposite direction, his eyes wandering. "Have fun!"

"i better get a promotion . . . after all, i was the only one brave enough to be in the car with you while you drove." he begins to walk off, hand lingering on the holster attached to his belt.

he grins, turning back to yell one last thing. "if i find it first you owe me a kiss!" he then runs off, eager to win. he disappears into the furthest building, the smell of dust instantly hitting him as he enters "ugh . . . gross."

"Well I was brave enough to drive." He shrugs, smiling.

McCoy whirls around at that moment. "What?!" There's a second before he sighs and continues his way into the building ahead of him—the door creaking loudly as he pushes it. "That's not creepy at all.." He takes a breath and goes in.

The inside is dark—dust layered upon every remaining piece of furniture in sheets. A clank grabs McCoy's attention and he looks down, noticing empty cans on the ground. "Dog food? Is that what they're eating out here?"

he slowly walks around the dark building, the only light source being from the smashed windows. he looks under floor planks and behind doors, there not being many hiding spots for killjoy loot. he finds old weapons and empty cans. nothing useful.

shortly thereafter, he moves to the next building, this one being . . . cleaner. seeming to be visited more regularly. after a moment, he sneezes from all the dust he inhales. "ugh . . . i do not miss being out here . . ." in fact, he remembers coming here quite a few times with xenon, bonfires and get-together usually happening outside the buildings. now that he's getting a good look inside, he understands why no one would come in. he hears a floorboard creak behind him, quickly whipping around only to find . . . nothing. he continues on with a tired sigh.

He pushes furniture aside, dust attaching itself to his hands which he shakes off. "Eugh.. this is disgusting."

The further he goes into the building the less he's able to see—eventually relying on feeling around the room. "Should've brought a flashlight.." he grumbles, wincing as he walks into what might be a table. "Dammit."

he swears he hears people talking, but whatever he turns to the noise, he comes up with nothing. he's probably just paranoid . . . the desert is just too empty, too quiet. his brain must be making up noises to fill the silence.

that is, until he hears some glass shatter.

. . .

he stands still, back turned to the noise. almost as if he's waiting for whatever it is to strike first.

and one thing he knows about killjoys, is that they never go after someone alone - like the animals they are, it's almost as if they travel in packs.

taking home a few killjoys don't sound too bad after all.

McCoy raises his head—feeling vaguely like he's just heard something. Though after a moment of silence he decides it must've been his imagination. Eventually he makes his way back to the only light source in the room.

However, he stops just before getting to the doorway and reaches for his radio. It seems like he should ask just to be sure nothing's happened.

McCoy's talking to a higher up—his posture more strained and professional-like than usual. It's obvious whatever he's being told is important. Eventually, the conversation seems to be close to concluding.

"Yes sir," he nods, "we're on it."

@mccoy-bli

he confidently emerges from the shadow of a doorway, walking up to McCoy and casually pulling him in from behind as if no one else is around. he merely acknowledges their superior with a glance, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him.

he hums, leaning his chin atop the others head. "going out for another mission, are we?" he sighs, arms protectively keeping his coworker close. "what a shame . . ."

unbeknownst to McCoy, Alecsander glares at their superior, waiting for him to leave as if he's the one in charge.

McCoy's eyes widen and he halfheartedly tries to push Alecsander off of him. "Yeah, zone four." He clears his throat, standing up straight again. "We'll head off now."

The higher up leaves them to it, unamused about the whole thing. McCoy turns back to his coworker, face slightly red. "Dude! I was talking! You can't just interrupt." He glares for a moment before sighing. "Whatever.. zone four. I'll drive this time."

he doesn't budge, boredly glancing around as if he has no clue as to what's happening. he watches their superior walk off, still not letting go.

he glances down at the other, slightly confused. "interrupt? i didn't interrupt. i was just standing here listening." he frowns at the suggestion of driving ". . . are you even allowed to?" he releases mccoy from his arms, crossing them now.

"No, you interrupted." His words lack any actual bite, but there's still slight annoyance.

McCoy shrugs, a small grin on his face. "Well, I don't think it matters. I can drive just as well as you. Plus, I doubt they'd even notice."

he scoffs, turning around and beginning to make his way out to the patrol car. "fine. but if you crash, i'll never trust you to drive again. after all, i'd get in way more trouble for letting you drive . . ." he pauses at the door. "you better not mess this up for me. d'you have the keys?"

he walks outside, the air still chilly from the morning wind. he checks his phone to look at what their mission is, frowning when he realises they have to go all the way out to zone four. he mutters to himself about it being a waste of time, now looking very unimpressed.

"I only crashed that one time, and it wasn't my fault." He holds up the keys and unlocks the car, feeling much more at home in the driver's seat.

"I don't wanna go all the way to four, but it's supposed to be a pretty quick mission, so maybe we'll get back before dark." He shrugs, starting up the car and happily listening to the engine rumble. "Ah.. I missed driving. Ready?"

he huffs, climbing into the passenger seat, obviously internally sulking about not being able to drive. "wasn't your fault, huh? don't think that's how that works . . . but what do i know? i'm your passenger prince, aren't i?" he grins, putting his seatbelt on.

"you better not drive like a lunatic." he watches the other suspiciously, already bracing for the impact of a crash despite the fact they haven't moved.

"It wasn't! It was that stupid killjoy's fault." McCoy looks over at Alecsander, then looks away briefly. "Yeah, I guess now you are actually the passenger prince."

"I won't. Stop acting like I'll crash into a building or something." He puts the car into gear and goes ever so slightly over the speed limit—a smile plastered on his face as the car beeps because he's unbuckled.

he huffs out an amused laugh, briefly glancing over to judge the others . . . concerning driving skills.

he pauses, frowning at the car beeping. ". . .put your seatbelt on. i'm not going to listen to this sound for the whole ride."

"Fine." He sighs, but slows enough to safely buck up. "Once we get out to the zones we'll be at zone four in no time." McCoy brags, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

he frowns, rolling his eyes. "it'll be a miracle if we make it back to the city tonight alive." he hums, stretching his arms up. "what're we doing in zone four anyway? sounds to me like they're getting us to do their dirty work . . . first zone five now four? we're taking the jobs no one else wants."

"My driving isn't that terrible." He doesn't slow down at a checkpoint, instead just giving a brief wave out the window. "I was told there's important stuff that was taken by killjoys. Medical stuff, probably."

McCoy pushes the car to its limits, but it'll still take a bit to get all the way to four. "Seems like it. This one sounds easy enough, so I guess we got lucky this time."

he sighs, mentally preparing himself for a crash at some point during the day. ". . . you were supposed to slow down there so they could check the mission report." Alecsander smacks the other upside the head at this statement. "killjoys stealing stuff? whats new."

he briefly glances at the other, grinning as an idea pops into his head. "it is pretty lucky, isnt it? getting to go on another mission with you - what're the chances?" he hums, one of his hands sliding over to rest on the others thigh. "out of everyone else in our department - i suppose they must think we work well together."

"Well they'll hear it from someone." McCoy simply shrugs, then huffs when he gets smacked. "Don't hit me when I'm the one driving." He turns the radio up slightly to fill the silence between words. "I guess it's good stuff to send us out to get it."

McCoy looks away briefly, trying to hide a slight cringe. "I guess so. Or the others just really don't wanna work with us." He shrugs again, focusing on the road.

"well i wouldn't have to if you actually did your job properly."

he frowns when he gets no reaction out of mccoy, retracting his hand. he sighs, beginning to play with the radio stations. "i don't see why people wouldn't want to work with us. you know, back before i got re-educated people would fight over me . . . you should've seen it. it was embarrassing, honestly!"

"Who says I'm doing it wrong?" He grins, the expression fleeting.

McCoy just listens for a moment; eventually giving his coworker a look of disbelief. "Fighting? Over you?" Despite himself he laughs—the sound loud but not harsh—and wipes an eye. "That's funny, man. If we crash it's gonna be your fault 'cause you keep distracting me."

he huffs. "me. i've genuinely never seen anyone be as shit at their job as you."

he grins once mccoy starts laughing, biting back one himself. "i'm telling you, man. everyone wanted to work with me . . . no one could keep their hands off me." the briefly glances at the other, his face turning slightly red. the laughter is music to his ears - a sound only he has the privilege of hearing right now. no one else. he continues "hm? i'm distracting you, am i? perhaps you really shouldn't be driving."

"Hey, you can't say that about the guy who climbed the radio tower." He smiles, glancing over at Alecsander again.

"Yeah.. are you sure they weren't trying to fight you?" McCoy sinks back into the seat. The smile hasn't left him yet. "You drove last time, I'm not letting you switch now." He adjusts his glasses. "Maybe the passenger prince needs to sit in the back?"

"you weren't very enthusiastic about doing it though, were you?" he tilts his head, glancing over once more. "seemed like you spent more time upside down than actually fixing the thing . . ." he shrugs. "you did look pretty doing it though, i'll give you that."

he hums, his genuine smile more of a . . . smirk. "you know, now that i think about it they did all have their guns pointed at me"

he huffs. "what? you don't like me sitting up here with you? it's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off me . . ."

"Nope." He pops the 'p'. "But I got it fixed. You spent the whole time smoking if I remember right.." He trails off, face going slightly red at the casual compliment.

"Then I think that means they wanted you dead." He shrugs, smiling. "Although.. I'm not sure why they had their guns pointed at you in the first place. I'm sure that's against city laws."

McCoy quickly side-eyes his coworker. "What? I'm not even looking at you, I'm watching the road." They pass a large sign and McCoy squints up at the rearview mirror. "I think that said we just left two."

he shrugs. "i mean, i drove all the way there. is it such a crime to take a small break?"

he huffs out a laugh. "really? i took it as a compliment . . . they couldn't contain their excitement perhaps?"

he turns his attention to watching the sandy dunes pass by outside. he dramatically sighs, obviously messing with the other now. "honestly, McCoy, keep your attention on the road . . . it's almost embarrassing how your eyes continue to trail back to me . . ." he frowns. "we've left two already? how fast are you going?"

"No but it should be a crime to leave your coworker hanging."

He huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, man. If it helps you sleep at night."

". . .Stop being weird, we've got work to do." Despite saying that he's definitely blushing, although he turns his face away. "And I'm going.. about 78. Not too fast."

"it's not my fault you kept slipping off the ladder. i mean, how hard is it to climb up then back down again? i probably could've done it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back."

he playfully rolls his eyes in response before speaking up again. "what? i'm not doing anything. i'm just trying to have a normal conversation with my lovely coworker!"

he blinks once, then twice, before slowly turning to face McCoy. ". . .78? alright . . . there's no way i'm getting back home alive . . ."

"How the hell do you expect to climb a ladder with your hands tied? We both know you'd fall off the first step."

He almost gives Alecsander a look, but decides against it after the recent teasing. "Sure. And I'm not driving right now."

McCoy gives the speedometer a quick glance. "What? 78 isn't even that fast. I bet we're gonna get there and back before the sun sets thanks to my driving." He kicks it up to about 80. "And you're being too pessimistic."

he shrugs. "i'd find a way."

he's about to come back with a witty remark, before McCoy speeds up even more. his hands quickly grip onto his seat and the inside wall of the door next to him. he winces, tensing up. "it's not a race, you know . . . it doesn't matter if we get back before sunset or not. it's not like you have anything better to be doing than going on this mission." he frowns, trying to sit straight in his seat again. "i'm just being realistic"

This time he looks over, easing off the gas. "I know that. Look, we're entering four now! How lucky." He slows down even more, keeping an eye out.

"He said the stuff should be in some old building somewhere. Guess they're trackin' it or something." He shrugs. "Might be further in though. Just keep an eye out."

he grumbles, looking out the window once more. his voice drips with sarcasm. "just in any old building? sure does narrow it down, huh?"

he frowns, scanning any buildings they go past for suspicious activity. "theres a lot around here . . . i'm sure i've heard killjoys often hide out around here since theres a lot of shelter - perhaps we should split up to cover more ground? or else we'll be here all day."

"Yeah, it's real helpful." He grumbles as well, the car now slowing to a crawl.

McCoy thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure. It looks like these are abandoned anyway, and.." he grins, showing his holster. "I got my raygun back for this mission. Dunno why 'cause I doubt I'll need it, but maybe we'll get lucky and bring back a killjoy this time!"

"got your raygun back, huh? well now, let's just hope that you can aim properly." he grins, climbing out of the car. he stretches, very pleased to be out of that death trap McCoy was driving. "bringing a killjoy back as a little trophy don't sound too bad at all."

he pauses for a moment as he glances around. it's eerily quiet . . . as if the whole desert came to a standstill once he got out. his piercing gaze searching, coming up with nothing. he glances back to the other. "well then, i suppose i'll head off this way and you go the other way? if you find what we're looking for, make sure to radio me." he turns his attention back to the line of abandoned buildings in front of him, muttering. "i want to get this over quickly."

"Of course I know how to aim. I was trained, you know." He rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, locking the doors behind him. "Yup. We might even get a promotion!"

McCoy looks in the opposite directions that Alecsander does—eventually deeming the area safe enough. "Alright. If you see any killjoys or anything tell me." He crosses his arms, a grin on his face. "Wonder who'll find it first. . .Well, sooner we find it the sooner we can leave."

He starts to head off in the opposite direction, his eyes wandering. "Have fun!"

"i better get a promotion . . . after all, i was the only one brave enough to be in the car with you while you drove." he begins to walk off, hand lingering on the holster attached to his belt.

he grins, turning back to yell one last thing. "if i find it first you owe me a kiss!" he then runs off, eager to win. he disappears into the furthest building, the smell of dust instantly hitting him as he enters "ugh . . . gross."

"Well I was brave enough to drive." He shrugs, smiling.

McCoy whirls around at that moment. "What?!" There's a second before he sighs and continues his way into the building ahead of him—the door creaking loudly as he pushes it. "That's not creepy at all.." He takes a breath and goes in.

The inside is dark—dust layered upon every remaining piece of furniture in sheets. A clank grabs McCoy's attention and he looks down, noticing empty cans on the ground. "Dog food? Is that what they're eating out here?"

he slowly walks around the dark building, the only light source being from the smashed windows. he looks under floor planks and behind doors, there not being many hiding spots for killjoy loot. he finds old weapons and empty cans. nothing useful.

shortly thereafter, he moves to the next building, this one being . . . cleaner. seeming to be visited more regularly. after a moment, he sneezes from all the dust he inhales. "ugh . . . i do not miss being out here . . ." in fact, he remembers coming here quite a few times with xenon, bonfires and get-together usually happening outside the buildings. now that he's getting a good look inside, he understands why no one would come in. he hears a floorboard creak behind him, quickly whipping around only to find . . . nothing. he continues on with a tired sigh.

He pushes furniture aside, dust attaching itself to his hands which he shakes off. "Eugh.. this is disgusting."

The further he goes into the building the less he's able to see—eventually relying on feeling around the room. "Should've brought a flashlight.." he grumbles, wincing as he walks into what might be a table. "Dammit."

McCoy @mccoy-bli - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag