The best thing about the notes on this post is the folks who are looking over the options and remarking that giant robot media as a genre is strikingly horny as though they're just realising this now.
Alas, of my mech pilots, only 'a fucking steering wheel' is covered.
'tip a jar of robot ants in there and run it via wildly hacked apps on your arm-phone, while upside down in the mechanisms rewiring things' wasn't an option.
ID: An illustration of a small flower fairy flying next to a walrus. The fairy points with one hand to the left and the other to the right, saying, "I'll try these doors, you try those, and maybe we'll find someone who can help!" The walrus replies, "Okie dokie." End ID
More for the ‘well, this explains a lot’ backstory for the original Mothermen team, from me and @thefalloficarus. There are allll the warnings in here.
Summary: The Mothermen have taken an old listening outpost, and Captain Waye sees the opportunity for a teaching moment.
Characters: C_K, Waye, Axe.
Words: 3175
-
It had been a long-listening outpost, once. A hunched-over concrete bunker with thick bracing struts set into its sides, looking for all the world like a huge grey beetle hunkered down on the landscape. The jagged metal of a comms array jutted out of the top, webbed about with cables, many of which had come loose in recent years and now dangled down the clustered masts.
Several had washing pegged out along their lower reaches, and more signs of habitation - if not the original function - clustered around the base of the building. A woodshed, built up against the wall and well-stocked with cut logs; a small livestock pen set back behind that; and rows of crops growing in branch-walled tiers down the more gentle natural hillside. The State had fallen, but not every fragment left behind was something broken.
Yet what tranquility there might have once been in this refitted scene was gone now; crushed, beneath a trio of uniform-booted feet.
The inhabitants of the former-bunker had been prepared for defence - because this was not the kind of land that encouraged complacency - and there was evidence of that too. Torn wiring hanging from the wall outside, where a recycled siren had been very recently ripped free; the busted-open remains of a hasty barricade, pushed together across the overridden main doorway; the traceries of acrid smoke still drifting in the air.
And the bloody, scalded gouge cut across the otherwise-clear skin of the Captain’s right shoulder.
Inside the building, in the cleared internal space that had functioned as main living area, by the look of it, the creak of rope was surprisingly loud.
“What we have here, is a learning experience.”
Waye moved as he spoke. He was stripped to the waist, his damaged jacket discarded across a nearby chair, his shirt knotted around his middle. Down to his undervest, the bulk of the man was only more evident. Muscle moved with lazy ease as he strolled around the centre of the room in a wide arc, gesturing towards the fresh wreckage of the furniture. A couple of thin trails of blood still traced down his arm, adding crimson addendums to the black Furtherance marks along his tricep, but he didn’t show much sign of discomfort about it.
“First? Squattin’ in State property is a real piss-poor life plan.” The smile bled a further across his face as he caught Axe’s gaze – sat across the room, leaning against the wall and watching his Captain with rapt intensity – and Waye gave a small rumble of amused laughter. “Specially if you’re fuckin’ dumb enough not to change the lock code. I’m a little bit insulted.”
The rope creaked again and a faint, muffled whimper followed. Waye cricked his neck from side to side thoughtfully, before turning his attention back to the figure hanging in the centre of the room. Arms held above their head, bound tightly around the forearms, and another length of rope wrapped in two layers of gag around an already-bruised face. Blindfolded. Tiptoes resting on the fouled floor below, just enough to take some weight but nowhere near enough.
The Captain’s dark eyes tracked up the rope, slung over a ceiling beam and down to the other end, where the third member of his team was braced against the strain; jaw tight, fingers shaking slightly with the effort, and with his green eyes turned away from the scene. Waye rolled his shoulders and strode over to the smaller Ward, clamping one big hand onto the top of C_K’s head and forced his face back towards the dangling shape.
“Not got time for you feeling delicate today, runt.” He dipped forwards, hand still in place, so close that his breath washed down C_K’s cheek. “Eyes. Front. Wouldn’t want you missin’ out.”
-
He’d not spoken out against the plans his Captain had for the inhabitants of this place. But it was clear that C_K disagreed. Each and every muscle tight and quivering as he held on the rope. The length wrapped around gloved hands and draped over his shoulder. He was strong for a Ward, but he’d been holding up their terrified cargo for quite some time now. Arms trembling with the effort and his legs shifting a little further apart to better anchor his feet.
Gaining Captain W_A’s attention was risky at the best of times, but when he was in one of his moods, C_K might as well hang himself up next to the Mothermen’s prey. Teeth gritted and a tick in his jaw as a large, heavy hand gripped his head and forced it around. He considered closing his eyes, petulantly refusing. But the hot breath against his cheek and the dangerous tone in that voice told him to play along.
“Yes, Captain. Thank you for including me.”
-
The grin poured back across Waye’s face and he gave a low rumble of approval.
“Better.” He straightened up, striding back over to the dangling shape, and cleared his throat. When he continued, there was an instructional tone to his voice.
“Second. Now, what you’ve got to keep in mind, boys, is that – we? Are professionals. And as such, we’ve got standards to keep up.”
Waye was tall for a Ward, and his chin was almost level with the hanging figure’s shoulders. He reached up and patted the binding rope wrapped around the raised forearms. Approvingly.
“Hands gotta be clear. Don’t damage the fingernails; don’t leave bruises. Uncivilised trash like this’ll have digits out all over the place, but we’ve got a bit more class.” His own gloved fingertips traced down the rope, and the smile on his face was something sharp and hungry. “Silver lining is that forearms give you a lot more leverage. Couldn’t have our misguided friend here up by the wrists – they’d have twisted almost off by now.”
“Third – not the face. Ain’t so much of a problem in this sort of situation, but keep it in mind. The Facilitator likes ‘em pretty. And what the Facilitator wants – ” His gaze dropped to C_K again, and the edge of his lip curled, just a little. “ – the Facilitator gets.”
-
If Waye’s tone didn’t get the point across accurately, then the way he looked at C_K certainly drove the point home.
He shifted his gaze away from Waye’s smirking features in order to try and catch his breath. Heart hammering in his chest and palms slick with sweat. His feet shifted a little further apart to try and balance out the ache in his shoulders. Glancing up to follow the trail of the Captain’s hands as they pointed out body parts and rope.
Body parts and rope.
He feared that was all this person would end up being by the time Captain W_A was done with them. But this was just punishment. Scare tactics. The prisoner would come back with them with cuts and bruises and maybe some broken ribs. But most importantly, alive.
-
“So. There, we’ve got what you’d call the pertinent points.” Waye dropped his hand away from the rope, back down onto the hanging figure’s shoulder. “So all we’ve really got left are the little things. The details.”
He leaned in a bit closer, putting more of his weight onto the dangling shape, and a fragment of a groan broke through already swollen-muted lips. The Captain’s eyes gleamed as he ran his thumb down his chin, before pressing the digit firmly across his other folded fingers.
“We gave you scum some instructions. Real fuckin’ clear ones.”
The force of the following punch sent the prisoner swinging backward, pendulum arc cut short by Waye’s other hand digging deep into their shoulder. Pulling back, holding the target steady as he swung again, driving his fist into trembling flesh as his victim spasmed and hunched ineffectually against the impacts. Finally, there was an internal crack, muffled and wet, and a hoarse scream broke the air as Waye stepped back, surveying his handiwork.
“Lie down. Hands on your head.” He reached out, twisting his fingers deep into brown tresses of damp hair, and tightened his grip. “Don’t try anything clever with your little guns. And then? Civvie ratfuck garbage: you shoot at me. Now, a lesser man – ” he swung again, abruptly, and his smile twitched with feral satisfaction as the blow hit home “ – could take that – ” and again, as crimson flecks peppered his bare arm, torn free by the force of each blow “ – real personal.”
The crack of another rib going added its own punctuation to Waye’s words.
-
“That’s enough, Captain.”
It took a good few seconds for C_K to realise that he had spoken, barely able to hear his own words above the hammering of his heartbeat. And about as long again to realise what it was that he had said.
...shit.
-
Waye stopped. Tension struck through his stance, quite different from the easy brutality he had been swinging around earlier, and a flicker of something like surprise set onto his face. He turned to look at C_K and his eyes narrowed, as the rest of his expression seemed to draw back from the glare.
“What’s that, See Kay?” He took a few steps towards the smaller Ward, letting go of his grip, as small clumps of hair dropped to the soiled floor. “You got somethin’ to contribute?”
-
If he could have snatched the words out of the air and stuffed them back into his mouth, he would have done. Chest tight and breath caught in his throat as eyes widened. Watched as the Captain moved in his direction. There was no taking it back. There was no pretending it didn’t happen. And so he had to live with his choices. No matter how long that was.
“I said…”
Clearing his throat and straightening his back a little. Another breath and he licked dry, cracked lips.
“That’s. Enough. Captain.”
-
Waye came to a halt barely a metre from C_K’s haltingly-defiant form. He loomed, obviously and deliberately, and for a long moment he didn’t speak, staring hard at C_K with an oddly calculating look in his black eyes.
Then he smiled, just a bit too slowly.
“Bit of those Furtherances firing up, runt? Got a some professional criticism of my methods, have we?”
C_K didn’t flinch. Wouldn’t flinch – even as Waye’s hand shot out and clamped firmly around the rope, just in front of C_K’s own hands. The Captain’s muscles tensed as he pulled down on the taut rope, taking much of the weight easily against his own, leaving C_K clutching limp hemp. Waye looked up, over, across the room to where Axe had half-risen to his feet, his heavy-lidded focus flicking from Ward to captive and back again.
“What d’you think, Axe?” Waye growled, his voice rough-velvet with the threat that poured strangely through his smile. “Think we should take a step back on this one?”
The stocky Ward blinked thickly, still staring at C_K, then shrugged. He straightened up, stomping across the wrecked room towards the door, and Waye snorted. The Captain looked down at C_K again and winked.
“Alright then. Over to you,” he said, oddly cheerfully, and let go of the rope.
-
There was a scrabble of rapidly numbing hands as the rope suddenly became taut again. Palms burning as C_K tried to tug and yank straining hemp before their prisoner hit the floor. It wouldn’t do much good to accidentally break their ankles. Although from the state of them and Waye’s grin, the Ward had his suspicions that would be the least of their worries.
“Captain… Look at him. If you’d have carried on, he’d be dead. Just…”
C_K glanced over at Axe. He’d long accepted the fact that there’d be no help coming from that corner. Too far gone. Lost to the flames and the lull of the Captain’s voice. But still he looked. Pleading clear in green eyes. But there was no help nor hope to be found.
“We should… It’s time to go now, Captain. Let’s gather the prisoners and leave. There’s nothing else here. No reason to stick around any longer.”
-
Sunlight streamed suddenly into the gloomy space – incongruously cheerful against the violent mess of the interior – as Axe shouldered the door open again and vanished out into the afternoon. C_K started carefully lowering the whimpering prisoner to the floor, gently letting the battered form fold onto the ground, and it wasn’t until he was able to loosen his grip on the rope that there was any sort of response from Waye. The Captain cleared his throat as C_K looked up, squinting a little at the bulky shadow outlined in the doorway, like a man-shaped void against the world.
But when he spoke, his voice had changed. The odd cheer was gone, even the rumbling threat pushed aside for a low, cold anger that C_K had heard before, and even the sound of it was enough to pour icy horror down his neck.
“You don’t contradict me. You don’t fucking contradict me, understand?” The words rolled deeper, harder, and each one carried the dull echo of impact with them. “Worthless fucked-out, Dreg-diving labrat trash; need to learn - your - place.”
-
Whatever bravado he’d had for such a short space of time was rapidly draining from him. Leaving mouth dry and eyes wide. A quivering form that could only stand and watch the anger fill the man before him. As if he were a vessel for the emotion. As if there was nothing else to him but rage and malice.
“I didn’t. To my understanding of orders given… I didn’t, Captain.”
Voice soft. Careful. Half a step taken back and a glance spared for their bound victim. He should have kept his mouth shut. He didn’t owe this stranger anything. His odd sense of morals and justice would be the death of him. And maybe that death would be coming sooner than expected.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I must have misunderstood.”
-
Waye laughed, but there was no humour in the sound.
“Then let’s make it clear, shall we? All you really understand anyway.” He stepped back, holding the door by the edge, and enough sunlight fell across his face to show the predatory curl to his lips as he spoke again. Just one word, and it was very, very clear.
“Siege.”
The door slammed closed – and let the darkness in.
-
If anyone asked, C_K would say it was like drowning. In fast forward. R E D filling his vision. Pouring down his throat. Filling him up and dragging him down. Choking him. R E D R E D R E D. Unable to breathe because of it. Unable to think. His entire being. The very person he was… Being dragged out and leaving behind that… thing.
He never remembered what he did when under Siege. Only got to see the carnage afterwards. Only got to taste blood thick on his tongue, and sometimes something of more… substance. His entire body ached. Pain vicious and sharp shooting up and down his spine. Flickering through spasming muscles. It hurt even to just open his eyes. But he had to. Had to see. Pale sunlight filtering sickly through roaming clouds assaulted his vision. Blinking blearily up at the sky.
-
There was smoke in the air. A near-distant crackling sound, intermixed with sharp pops and creaks of yielding structures, and the rising wash of heat far beyond anything the weakening sunlight could produce.
The outpost was burning. Flames licked up through ventilation holes, streaking tongues of soot against the concrete skin The doorway hung open, vomiting grey-brown coils, lit from within by flickering orange and occasional bursts of shock-white as internal electronics failed. The wood pile outside was a separate bonfire, with still-recognisable pieces of farming equipment settling into the blaze, sending papery fragments of ash spiralling up into the air.
Axe was stood far too close to the flames, half-leaning forwards over a rainwater barrel. His gloves hands were smeared with soot and clenched so tightly against the wood beneath that there was a trembling tension running up and down his arms. He didn’t move, even as something else collapsed inside and sent a fresh blast of scalding wind across his already-reddening face. Staring, slack jawed; eyes glazed with lidded rapture.
“Made our point.”
Waye was sat nearby, a few feet from C_K’s flattened form, leaning back against a line of fence that was still standing. He had his shirt back on, hanging open, and his jacket was carefully folded over the wooden slats behind. A thin white cylinder hung from his lips, adding its own spiced smoke to the air, as he watched Axe closely.
-
A long shuddering breath. Time to take stock of his own situation. Too much going on to deal with everything going on around him. The scalding heat of the flames. The rapture on Axe’s face. The calmness of the Captain. The overriding sense of what he’d done.
Another breath.
Blurred gaze scanned down his body. There was not a single inch of him not coated in crimson. His chest ached as breathing hitched. Lungs screaming in agony as each breath became faster and faster. Rapid. Desperate.
A strange sound. Something that didn’t match the rest of his surroundings. A rasping, gravelly sound. Sobbing. It took a few moments to realise it was him.
It never got any easier. And the guilt came over him in waves.
-
It took some time for Waye to give any indication that he’d even noticed C_K was awake. When he did look around, his lips curled in satisfaction as he watched the younger Ward sob. When C_K finally ran out of breath, when his fingers started to twitch again as the paralysis of horror started to wane, Waye leaned over, and clapped a hand companionably on his shoulder.
“Nice job, C_K.” There was a weight of warmth in his voice, and his grip tightened just a little on C_K’s shoulder. “I never get bored of seein’ that.”
-
There was something thick and warm lodged in the back of his throat. Causing further tears in his eyes which had nothing to do with his misery. He flinched at the heavy hand gripping his shoulder and turned to the side. Coughing and hacking until crimson gore spattered to the already blood soaked ground.
Another choked sob.
“Thank you, Captain.”
-
Waye grinned. His hand shifted, settling into C_K’s hair, and ruffling the bloodstained locks almost affectionately.
“Good boy,” he rumbled, as he reached up and plucked the half-smoked cigarette free, blowing against the tip until it glowed like a burning ruby, then pushed the filter between C_K’s bloody lips. He patted him again then stood up, heading towards Axe as he swung his jacket jauntily over his uninjured shoulder.
Starring: R_V; Chastity Halstead
In which the Commander and Halstead need to discuss something.
Warnings: Ravs, Val, implied murder, mention of blood, dead body
Specific note: Some of this is a very dark and dream-scene / abstract. Just for clarity - Captain W_A was a physically abusive / aggressive bully, but this is flashing back to beating, not sexual violence.
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