#seekay

[ceemuzic]

Mas MusiQ – Ama Bozza ft. Seekay & Young Stunna

Mas MusiQ Ama Bozza Mp3 Download Mas MusiQ, a South African music producer, DJ, singer and songwriter, delivers “Ama Bozza” featuring Seekay and Young Stunna, an Amapiano track from the album Auti ‘eSharp. The song blends smooth piano melodies, deep log drums, and soulful vocals from Seekay and Young Stunna, creating a warm and emotional vibe. Ama Bozza stands out as a heartfelt Amapiano song…

Mas MusiQ – Ama Bozza ft. Seekay & Young Stunna

[zuluhiphop]

Mas MusiQ – Ama Bozza ft. Seekay & Young Stunna

Mas MusiQ Ama Bozza Mp3 Download Mas MusiQ, a South African music producer, DJ, singer and songwriter, delivers “Ama Bozza” featuring Seekay and Young Stunna, an Amapiano track from the album Auti ‘eSharp. The song blends smooth piano melodies, deep log drums, and soulful vocals from Seekay and Young Stunna, creating a warm and emotional vibe. Ama Bozza stands out as a heartfelt Amapiano song…

Mas MusiQ – Ama Bozza ft. Seekay & Young Stunna

[princehenry11]

Biza Umama ft. Mr JazziQ, Seekay & Busta 929

Biza Umama ft. Mr JazziQ, Seekay & Busta 929

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[faircoarchives]

RP: Calling cards

After leaving R_V tied to a tree, the remaining MM (and reclamation AGRI team) reach the Silo.  They find more than they expected, in the form of an entrepreneurial figure with a rather unStately way of conducting himself.

Starring: C_K, S_R, Lennart.

Warnings: None

The landscape around ADEF-FAC is more visibly modified than the area around Fair-co.  Metal-specked concrete blisters jut out of the earth around the sullen dome of the main building, crowned with dead lamps and the angles of communication relays, all dark.  Patterns of abandoned fields are still visible, spread out around the more obvious buildings; fallow now, with scrub already rising into new woodland at the edges, where the once-rigid treeline is bleeding out across the old margins.  The actual structures stand firm but their edges are beginning to soften, worn down by the gradual entropy of wind and rain pitted against old engineering.

The more violent scars in the landscape’s recent history are also showing signs of succumbing to inevitability.  Impact craters and the mouldering remains of old testing rigs, crumpled outbuildings and broken crates, all wrapped in fresh tendrils of bellbind and colonising moss.  Weedy opportunists, but green and alive, in contrast to the slime-blacked mess of the rotten barley fields that ring the Silo.  Even the great, shock-sharp crater in front of the main door has yielded a little.  Some of the alien smoothness to the sides has given: split stones have dislodged, rolled to the bottom in small piles of scree amongst muddy pools; animal tracks and burrows trace new pathways into the earth, between patches of dandelions sprung up alongside the still-trickling streams, fed by the open mouths of severed pipes.

But it is not only nature that has been busy, in Mother’s absence.

The – unusual – residents of the mouldering husk in the hillside have been gone for months now, and the last legitimate ones long before that.  Yet the building is no longer empty; the door standing forced-ajar, and there is the faint sound of distant music crackling in the air.

-

* The specific effects of time and neglect on the scene do little to catch S_R’s attention.  The damn place was a wreck when they left it, and it’s more of a wreck now.  Big deal.  He has other things to focus on - and the idle chattering of the AGRI mob behind him isn’t helping.  They have come to the edge of the treeline, just north of the FAC, and there is only unsettlingly-open ground between them and the building now.

*He turns to the hulking idiots in tow, and snaps his fingers a few times to get their attention.

[S_R] Right.  We - *he jabs a sharp gesture towards C_K* - are going to scout this out.  You lot.  Stay.  Here.  ...what?

*He stops, irritated, as an AGRI near the front raises one callous-mangled hand cautiously.

[Sage] Y’mean, like right here, or…?

[S_R] I mean don’t fucking waltz off and get yourselves killed.  Stay in cover, don’t go attracting attention.  Pick flowers.  Scratch your ass.  I don’t care.

[S_R] You’ve got the radio.  Don’t move until you hear from us.  Clear?

*A mumbled chorus of ‘yes’ follows, as the two remaining Mothermen spread out, dropping down to lower their profiles as they head out into the open space.

It wasn’t that C_K wasn’t listening to his Captain, more that he was paying more attention to the world around them. A tension between his shoulderblades, his head cocked slightly to one side and gaze turned away from S_R and the gathered AGRI Wards. Listening.

Listening to the faint sound of music filtering through air much fresher than he was used to. The rush of wind through the cracks in crumbling walls. The tiny sounds of creatures scurrying unseen. Waiting for something to come along that wasn’t as harmless as rats and insects. As always his primary objective was watching his Captain’s back. And then waiting for orders.

As soon as S_R was on the move, C_K fell into step behind him. Ever on guard and silent on his feet. Not needing an order to hunker down and make himself smaller, less visible to the naked eye. He knew the ropes better than most and as a unit, the two men were like a well oiled machine. Despite the bickering.

[C_K] Nice pep talk there, Captain. I think they’re really starting to warm to you.

[S_R] Imagine how much I care.

*There are a few rusting remains of old boobytraps still scattered around the barley, but the rotting stalks do little to hide them now, and they are easily avoided.  As the two men get closer to the Silo doors, skirting the edge of the crater, the sound of music is even more obvious to intently-listening ears.  S_R crouches down, batting with disgust at a few insects that buzz idly up from the disturbed flowers, and peers across at the wedged-open doorway.

[S_R] We closed that, didn’t we?

*Not much passed by C_K’s notice. Never really had done and it was something that he clung to. Not quite a photographic memory, but close. And they certainly had closed that door. But it was the tracks surrounding the silo that he had noticed first. Nothing that animals could have done. And it was from someone who wasn’t trying to hide. Who didn’t think that anyone else would be coming this way.*

[C_K] Made double sure we did.

*S_R nods, slightly.  He’s pretty sure - very sure, and it isn’t like he’s a man especially prone to self-doubt - but it is… reassuring, to have C_K’s assessment match his own.  He’s willing to admit to himself at least that the little prat’s tracking skills are rather above his own.  Which is fine.  That’s what delegation is for.

*The Mothermen make their way down the side of the crater - carefully, just about managing not to slip on the mud and rocks - and after a few more checks for new boobytraps, or ambushes, slip in through the opened doors.  The inside of the building certainly hasn’t improved since they were last here, and indeed the upper room looks even more of a wreck than before.  Not just from degradation of the previous damage, either.  Someone has been doing some serious scavenging, and S_R’s narrowed gaze tracks along the torn scars in the walls, where panels have been wrenched free and the empty shells of wiring insulation hang limp.

Music is floating up the stairs.  The two Wards spread out again, checking the room as they rotated around the stairwell; C_K’s fingers twitching; S_R’s pistol drawn.  Positioned in an opened pincer - they wait.

*A large segment of panelling joins them from the corridor, clattering against the grated floor. After a brief pause, a tall gentleman in a somewhat travel-worn green suit enters the room, swigging from a rather old-looking bottle of whiskey; some archaic brand. A freshly-torn bundle of cabling sits crammed into one of his suit pockets. He pauses, mid-step, then licks his lips clean of the strong alcohol. His lips break into a wide smile.

[Lennart] : Good morning, friends! Quite a day for endeavouring spirits such as ourselves, mm? What an opportunity, left to fester in the dirt~

*Lennart tilts the bottle-neck towards them meaningfully, looking around the cavernous space of the Silo’s entrance hall.

*Both Wards start slightly at the sudden clang, and for a few heartbeats the sharp poise in their movements gives out, as identical expressions of abrupt confusion staple across both bearded faces.  C_K recovers first.

[C_K] I… Fuck… What?

*Not his most eloquent moment. The Ward visibly shook himself and stood straighter, rolling his shoulders back and cocking his head slightly to one side. Green eyes narrowed on the taller man, annoyed by how he had to tilt his head back slightly to take him all in. A breath. Held. Let out slowly. The man was not like any he’d seen before, but he was absolutely certain his Captain would know what to do. And the slight glance to the man at his side along with an eyebrow raise said as much.*

*S_R takes a bit longer to react.  Considering the tangle of concerns, half-suspicions and paranoia that had wrapped around this trip in his mind - this isn’t what he was expecting.  Some overgrown idiot dressed like a bush and swigging something that smelled like solvent even from here.  When he does react, it’s closer to instinct, and the gun swings out in that familiar action, pointed at the new grinning face.

[S_R] Who. The hell. Are you?

*The stranger gives a broad, (not literally) disarming smile

[Lennart] : Lennart Pengersen, my friend! Here, I do remember…

*He gives an apologetic grin, patting himself down, rummaging in pockets and hidden compartments of the tailored suit.

[Lennart] : Ah, yes! Here we go! It has been some time since I’ve had to use one of these!

*The businessman presents a small card, stamped with a monochrome gear design and embossed with flourishing font, because of course it is. It reads ‘Lennart Pengersen - Businessman and Champion of Blessed Opportunity’. He holds it between the two Statesmen, making no real effort to move closer but taking an exceptionally real swig of the whiskey once more.

* S_R doesn’t move for another second or so, other than his eyebrows, which are making a break for his hairline.  Finally he nods C_K towards the card, not moving his aim from the big man.  Who seems annoyingly disinterested in having a gun pointed at him.

*His own eyebrows finally lower and after a quick scan for any weapons that might be about the man’s person, C_K reached out and took the card. Eyes quickly scanning it before letting out a little huff of disbelief.*

[C_K] Yeah… It really does say that…

*The card was turned over and over in gloved hands but it didn’t make sense from any angle.*

[C_K] He’s… Got his name on a bit of card…

[S_R] ...in case you fucking forget?

*Lennart looks between them, finds straight faces, and begins to laugh. His large chest heaves with mirth as he shakes his head, finishing the whiskey bottle and sitting down on a piece of debris (formerly a storage container, contents 26 x Can of Mushroom Soup).

[Lennart] : Oh, it has been such a long time since I have dealt with Mother’s Boys, forgive me!

*He sets the bottle down on the floor between them.

[Lennart] : Say we meet at a business gathering, and it is a very cordial affair, with much exchanging of information between businessfolk such as ourselves. Very useful! But in two months time, perhaps when you require my services, how will you recall it all? Surely it is much more… efficient to have all of the vital statistics kept before you in attractive font, yes?

[S_R] If I couldn’t remember, you clearly didn’t make much of an impression.

*The Captain is starting to unfreeze from his initial confusion.  Still has the gun raised, but his expression is settling back into a more habitual scowl, as his gaze tracks across the man in front of him.

[S_R] Alright, card-boy.  We’ve got your name.  Now - what are you doing?  Bearing in mind this is a State Facility, and you’ve sure as shit recognised what we are.

*Lennart smirks, leaning back against the wall.

[Lennart] Is it? It doesn’t look much like one, my friend. Why, usually one of your lovely little FACs has plenty more people, no? Some electricity, even? Maybe an AI?

*He examines the back of one of his gloves, thick and brown. Durable. He doesn’t actually remember buying them…

[Lennart] Seems more like a ruin to me, although I’m not an expert…

*S_R’s eyes narrow a little further.

[S_R] This A-D-E-F-Facility is under the purview of FAIR-CO, and the - * it isn’t a hesitation, not quite, but there is a flicker of fresh scorn somewhere under his voice that isn’t entirely aimed at Lennart* - ‘Mothermen’ Security Extraction Force.  All property, resource, personnel and anything nailed down or not: Is ours.

[S_R] So.  I’ll ask you.  Again.

[S_R] What. Are you doing.  Here?

*Lennart’s grin doesn’t falter

[Lennart] Listen, this does not need to be difficult, my dear, well-armed friend.

*He stands up, cracking his knuckles a little bit. A few more bones crack than are meant to in his older form.

[Lennart] We are both here for the same reason; just picking apart a wreck, no? The only difference is you get paid by your… facilitator, or something, and I am paid by you, ideally. I have retrieved plenty of valuable material, documents, components and equipment, and would be more than happy to part with them, with only minimal labour costs incurred…

*C_K had chosen to be silent for the moment. Straightening his back and rolling back his shoulders to be the silent shadow at his Captain’s side. Breathing slowing and form becoming completely still. Almost unnaturally so. As the strange man stood and cracked his knuckles, a further shift came over the Ward. An almost dangerous air as his eyes narrowed slightly and his hands curled into fists at his sides.*

[C_K] Careful…

*The card crumpled in his palm*

[C_K] We have no intention of giving you anything. But we will be taking back what you’ve stolen.

*Lennart’s eyebrows raise, his grin remaining fixed. He briefly contemplates the distance from his hand to the drill strapped to his back-plate, the distance from the drill to his conversation partners. Perhaps later.

[Lennart] Friend, friend. My ‘stolen’ items have not even left the premises…

[S_R] Then what - exactly - makes them yours?

*He studies Lennart again.  The faintest flicker in the man’s stare, under the irritatingly-jovial facade.  Something more dangerous.  More interesting.

Something that might be useful.

*S_R tilts his gun upwards, enough to take it out of line of the man’s forehead, and his expression returns to something more conspiratorial.

[S_R] Although I’ll admit, it saves us some time.  If you’ve found anything of actual use in this chlorinated shithole, I might be persuaded to forget we met you.  Or better.

*Lennart smiles wide, his older face creasing.

[Lennart] See, much better… Even in the State, business is important… deals might as well be my lifeblood, my boy…

*He suppresses a chuckle

[Lennart] But eh, forgive me, I don’t keep up with the young ones’ interests so much. What is of use to you, dear ‘Mothermen’? Enough to come back to a barely-chlorinated shithole by this point..?

[S_R] First?  I’m not your boy.

*He holsters the pistol, and instead fishes something out of one of the pockets of his jacket.  Doesn’t show it, just yet, but folds his arms firmly with his fists closed tight across his chest.

[S_R] Captain.  S_R.  I don’t have it on a card, so I guess you’ll just have to remember me.

[S_R] Operational records.  Functioning electronics; storage ideally.  The AI’s scrap and half the general systems are outdated and fried, so you can keep any of that garbage you’ve dragged up.  Anything with a State security mark above Rank Three, or looks like it’s been Redacted in a real fucking hurry.  And -

*now his fingers uncurl, revealing a small vial, with a copper cylinder inside, stained with ichor*

[S_R] Anything that looks like this.

*Lennart frowns, leaning in to squint at the vial-held substance.

[Lennart] Electronics..? You would be lucky, friend S_R. Please, tell me you can smell the burnt plastic in the air…

*He smirks, stepping back once again.

[Lennart] There is a reason I had resorted to liberating the basic wiring, rather than more… complex technology, ha ha. Records, those I may be able to help with. Your… Facilitator’s rooms are always bountiful with information~

[S_R] The less of this fetid tomb I can breathe in, the better.  *His nose wrinkles at the mention of burnt plastic.* Right.  You know what we want.  Our own team will be joining us for our work, and I seriously suggest you don’t get in their way, or try taking any blessed opportunities.

*S_R turns to C_K, still eyeing Lennart with sharp suspicion.

[S_R] Send the signal.  And watch the door, once they’re in.  Wouldn’t want anyone getting any funny ideas.

[faircoarchives]

RP: Taking a trip

The Mothermen’s trip to the Silo begins.  Perhaps not quite in the way everyone involved may have assumed…

Starring: C_K; S_R; R_V

Warnings: Threats

Departure of the Mothermen team from Fairco had historically been an event of some ceremony.  Captain W_A was always very keen on ‘showing support to your boys. What with us keeping you all safe and snug down in here.’  

S_R had put a stop to that. They have a fucking job to do, and it wasn’t running a damn parade.

The current preparations are more of a circus than he is happy with, but he has to admit that the chaos is… less than it might have been.  Arranging field kits for seven people – the three Mothermen themselves, and four AGRIs – as well as Reclamation gear, weapons and camp-rolls should, by all experiences he had had so far in this damn place, have been an abject nightmare to achieve.

Yet this time S_R finds himself bizarrely unopposed. Requisitions completed.  Maintenance checks done, in a timely fashion. Paperwork actually filled in.

It is weird.  And unsettlingly… welcome.

Most of the little group is now congregated just outside the main door, carefully passing out packs and distributing equipment.  The AGRIs aren’t new to this sort of work, but it’s infrequent enough that there is an unconcealed air of excitement about them, and S_R ignores the snatches of conversation that rumble on around him, predicting riches and possible treasures. It isn’t riches he expects to find in that chlorinated tomb, unless bleached, rotting concrete really does it for you.  But they don’t know that. Don’t need to know that.

The small canister containing Halstead’s damn battery seems to weigh unaccountably heavily against his side, shoved deep into one uniform pocket, and S_R tries to shakes off the leaden mood as he looks up towards the non-haulage parts of the team.

[S_R] You carry your own fucking kit.  So you might want to get to picking one.

R_V takes a deep breath and takes the step from cold metal onto the grass just outside. He strides towards the equipment in a pile by the Captain, making a point of nudging past his injured arm to collect a rucksack and sling it over his shoulder.

[R_V] Are you sure you don’t need someone to carry your kit too, Captain? You know, after the accident you had in the gym you should have more issue than usual.

He smirks and turns from the group to see the world outside of the Facility; the smirk quickly turns into a frown as his eyes dart from trees to plants to lake.

[R_V] Regardless, we should be on our way. Try not to hold us up too much Captain - see to it that he doesn't, hmm, C_K?

Forest green eyes narrow at the former astronaut as he purposefully brushes past the Captain’s injured arm. For the moment C_K say nothings. Merely adding it to the mental list of lashes to take out of R_V’s hide later. There would most certainly be a later. Gaze lowering, he picks up one of the packs and briefly checks through it. There is no doubt in his mind that S_R would have gone through them and checked at least five times, but his Captain had taught him to be thorough. And so he was going to check until satisfied.

[C_K] The Captain’s arm is well on the way to recovery. I for one am impressed.

A slight raise of his eyebrows but soon followed by a docile little smile, cocking his head slightly to one side as he pats R_V on the shoulder in a friendly manner.*

[C_K] But be assured I’ll keep an eye on him. With your good self on our team, I’m sure we’ll get there in no time.

He’s pleased that manages to sound genuine, despite the bile rising at the mere sight of the man.*

R_V glances at his shoulder and back to C_K, his scowl quickly becoming a grin after the compliment.

[R_V] Your medical knowledge may be lacking, I am however impressed by your optimism C_K, and rightfully so.

Another smug, chrome smile breaks out across his face as he places his hands on his hips just as he posed for his posters as he addresses the AGRI-Wards, a brief glance at S_R also..

[R_V] Well then, no time like the present - keep close to the Mothermen Extraction Unit at all times, do not attempt to flee, failure to comply will result in injury or expiration.

[Sage] No worryin’ Commander. Done this sorta thing before. We gotcha!

She lightly cuffs R_V on the arm, grinning broadly.

[Sage] Though if yer offerin’ t’stay close, I ain’t sayin’ no.

[S_R] If you’ve quite finished?

He glares daggers at R_V as he grabs the nearest pack, swinging it into place with minimal difficulty. That he totally hasn’t been practising. At all.

[S_R] We’ll hit the first waypoint around noon.  R_V, since you’re so fucking keen to show off, you can put your muscle where your mouth is and take a Rec bag as well.

R_V bends down at the pile again, slinging another bag over his shoulder. He stands again with arms held out, taunting S_R.

[R_V] Why of course Captain, you certainly won’t be able to carry it. In a way me carrying more will help you heal. It was lifting that injured you in the first place, after all.

He again glances from his arm and this time to Sage, he gives the woman a look of disgust.

[R_V] Close, S_G. Not that close.

Sage shrugs.

[Sage] Suit yerself. *She grabs a couple of packs, turning back to the AGRI group, and another amused rumble runs the circuit*.

[S_R] I am very aware of what ‘injured’ me. *His free hand twitches a little, but he swallows whatever other retort was rising, and his expression cools again.*

[S_R] Right. Let’s get this over with.

-

The journey falls into routine quickly.  S_R or C_K lead, familiar as they are with the route through the canyons and trackways that surround Fairco; one at the head of the party and one at the rear, swapping periodically with a brief exchange of update.  Mismatched stares of forest-green and black amber rove constantly; observing, watching. Wary even in this known path. The AGRI group are far less cautious - chatting, joking, occasionally stopping to grab handfuls of recognised weeds or herbs and stuff them into waiting pockets - but other than a few sharp rebukes when they get too loud, S_R mostly ignores this.

They reach the first waypoint indeed a little after noon. It’s a natural clearing in the woodlands either side, where thin soil and slabs of weathered surface rock have held back the trees, and there is a smooth stone set into the ground in the centre. Man-high, clad thickly with moss, and with unfamiliar symbols half-visible beneath the green layer.

S_R eyes the distinctly un-State marker with a faint flicker of something approaching discomfort. A reminder, that this borderland area was always at the very edge of Mother’s sight, and now…  He shakes off the mood and turns back to the group. The AGRIs have settled down, unwrapping the first of their ration packs, and S_R catches C_K’s eye; nodding.

Now.

[S_R] Commander. Time for another line on your arm: Recruitment posts.

[R_V] Recruitment posts, Captain? Is that how you ended up here? Random squabble amongst the wild? The quality shows.

S_R’s teeth grit and he leans in a little closer, dropping his voice slightly.

[S_R] You might think this is all a big joke, space-boy, but if I have to drag. You. Screaming. Into being a damned competent officer, then I fucking will.

[S_R] Now.

[S_R] Monitoring recruitment posts is going to be something you’d better get real interested in, really quickly. Because scraping starved Wards off branded landscape is very fucking dull.

R_V raises his brows briefly and smirks at S_R, hands behind his back he stands to attention.

[R_V] Competence and compliant are two things I learned to be way before the rank of officer Captain, perhaps this explains you - again.

R_V throws the bags he was carrying against the foot of a tree, kneeling down carefully beside them to retrieve a ration pack.

[R_V] Regardless Captain - this task shall be trivial.

[S_R] Then it should suit you completely.

C_K has been watching over proceedings with a keen gaze. Following his Captain’s orders silently and constantly, but subtly, checking over R_V and planning how to do this. They already have something set in stone, but plans change and the Ward is still very unsure of R_V. The man could be capable of anything. As soon as the former astronaut’s back is turned, C_K’s demeanour changes dramatically. Slipping from docile and compliant to something predatory. His movements are fluid and almost cat-like as he moves over to where Oak is sat (the large Agri who had taken a shine to him at the Blue Moon Ball) and retrieves the bag he needs, with a smile that was more of a baring of teeth than anything pleasant.*

[C_K] The Captain and I will be showing the new recruit how to monitor the Recruitment posts. You and Sage can keep an eye on things, yeah?

The large Agriward grins widely and pats C_K hard on the back before affectionately ruffling his hair. Something C_K kind of wishes he hadn’t done, but… He supposes it’s an Agri thing.*

[O_K] Don’ you worry, Seekay. I’m good at watchin’.

A brief smile that is gentler than the one before.*

[C_K] Good.

A nod, before that predatory grace is back and he moves to stand at S_R’s injured left side, slightly behind. Shoulders rolled back and standing to attention. Waiting.*

[S_R] Right, let’s get this farce moving again.

He strides off into the treeline, making for a trodden-in path amongst the undergrowth. Not as flat as the road, and with whip-like fronds of this year’s growth edging in from the sides.  

R_V follows, brushing vines and loose leaves and branches from his path with a look of disgust on his face.

The small clearing falls away behind them and is soon lost in the blur of trees.  There are few animal noises on the main road - a party with AGRIs in it does not lend well to stealth or naturalism - but with the three Mothermen alone, moving carefully, rustles and small sounds come back, filtering towards them as they walk.

R_V nervously glances around at each chirp of a bird or snap of a twig underfoot, a gloved hand resting on the hilt of a small dagger he carries with him on his belt.

[R_V] Quite a trek for a recruitment post is it not Brothers, amongst all these hideous trees - Tell me what kind of people do you expect to find around here?

[S_R] If we’re lucky? None. The last fucking thing we need is to be dragging some gibbering wreckage around with us.  Present company excluded, for professional courtesy.

He ducks under a low-hanging branch, letting it go behind him close enough to waft past R_V’s face.

[S_R] Wards, mostly. The broadcasts go out with co-ordinates, same as on the posters. And whatever flyover littering drops Hawkins has done recently. The Civs have fucked off, on the whole, or got their acts together a long way away from here, and Citizens are Mister Fairfax’s problem right up until they’re ours.

He glances back at R_V, sneering.

[S_R] So wasn’t it nice for you we pulled you out of that shithole directly?  Or you’d have been hanging around in these ‘hideous trees’...

[R_V] I would much rather bring back a Brother or Sister of the Chain that have to suffer another moment of conversation with a Citizen -

R_V trips over a loose root and stumbles forward, he disguises his fall by swiftly kicking the top off a nearby mushroom and glancing at the others.

[R_V] I may find the outdoors… disgusting, but I would have survived without your so called assistance - I’m not so sure about Mr. Vesalius however.

[S_R] While I’m not sure you can die from a lack of moustache wax - I think we have to agree on that.

C_K follows the other two silently, keeping one ear on the bickering - making sure his Captain isn’t being too antagonistic; yet - while the rest of his attention strays this way and that, drawn by the rustling in their surroundings.  He’s quite aware that out of the three of them, he is the only one who actually enjoys spending time outside the FAC’s walls, the only one whose glances after nearby scuttling noises is from curiosity, rather than wariness.  He likes these trips.  And this particular one has been coming for a while...

The small group continues for about ten more minutes, taking the occasional side track. There is no signposting here now, no visible landmarks past the shading autumn patchwork of the trees. No obvious path back to the road, if you didn’t already know the way.

It is - in short - perfect.

S_R stops, grunts, and lets his pack slide to the floor.  He tightens his free hand against his bound arm and grimaces slightly with apparent pain.

R_V looks around at the thick woodland around them, looking out for a road or path or clearing, finding none.

[R_V] Well this seems like the perfect spot to set up a watchpost. If a poor Citizen were to find themselves out here they’d never survive before we got to them. It’d make our job a lot easier.

[S_R] Oh, it does.

There is a click; a soft, metal noise that nonetheless manages to cut across every other sound in the clearing, and an abrupt point of threatening pressure settles against the back of R_V’s head.  When S_R speaks again, the earlier strain has gone from his voice, replaced with liquid threat.

[S_R] Don’t move, Commander.  Twitch, or try anything - anything - and I’ll blow your brains all over this wretched clearing.  We’re in the ass end of nowhere.  No witnesses; no chalked-up leeches to tattle on my misdeeds.  

R_V freezes in place, tensing his body, he clenches his fists and growls before raising his hands slowly, defeated after thinking about the gun to his head.

[S_R] I could kill you now, right where you stand, and I swear on Mother’s rotting heart it’s a tempting fucking option.

[S_R] But.

The Captain’s other hand - freed from the brace that now lies discarded on the leafy floor - jerks up, bunching his gloved fingers roughly in R_V’s hair, and pulls the bigger man’s head back more firmly against the pistol barrel.  S_R leans forward, the closeness of the raised threat only slightly diminished by the fact that he’s speaking into R_V’s shoulder rather than his ear.

[S_R] You want to be a Motherman, Arr-Vee?  Then you’re going to fucking learn when, and when not, to throw that bulk around. On. My. Orders.

[S_R] So. In the spirit of camaraderie, Brotherhood, and all that other rancid garbage you lap right up - I have a test for you.

C_K becomes as still as a statue. Eyes sharp as cut emeralds as he simply watches his Captain grapple with the taller man. The only movement for the moment a twitch of his lips into a slight smirk when S_R is not quite tall enough to make his movements as dramatic as he clearly desires. A sigh and a roll of his eyes as the brace is dropped to the ground. Movements liquid as he steps forward without fear and ducks down to pick up the brace. Turning slightly to S_R as he speaks in a lowered tone and with narrowed eyes*

[C_K] If you fuck up your Chain-Damned arm just because you wanted to be a melodramatic little shit, I will be displeased, Sir.

He steps back and turns swiftly on his heel to walk around the two men until he is facing R_V. His smile wide and welcoming, but there is something vicious in his eyes. Spiteful.

[C_K] Doing okay there, brother? I really wouldn’t move, he’s not kidding, you know. I wouldn’t call our esteemed Captain trigger happy, but he’s a man of his word.

R_V looks sickly white with fear.  He glares at C_K as the man approaches, his body still stiffly locked in place and then begins to nervously laugh.

[R_V] You know I think you might be right for once Brother C_K.  Now tell me S_R - is the bullet with my name on it even in the chamber? I doubt it is - if I recall I remember seeing it tucked neatly into that little ammo pouch of yours -

R_V slowly lowers his left hand to remove the small knife from his belt, tossing it to the ground in front of C_K, his pale smirk now faded he carefully presses his legs together tightly to conceal the small dagger hilt in his boot.

[R_V] Since I don’t really have a choice I’ll entertain this game or test or whatever you want to call it Captain, spit it out.

S_R laughs, but just once.  A low, rough single bark of something only slightly akin to amusement.

[S_R] You think I’ve only made one bullet for you?  R_V, you’ve got a whole fucking clip.

[S_R] Now, you’re going to walk slowly over to that big - *a pause, only slight, as a flick of uncertainty enters S_R’s voice* - ‘...beech tree - ‘

[C_K] *mutters, under his breath* That’d be an oak, Captain.

[S_R] ...big tree over there, and get your back against it.

R_V lets out a quick laugh at C_K’s correction before turning quickly to face S_R.  The barrel of the gun presses against his forehead.

[R_V] Smart man, you’ll need more than one bullet Captain.

R_V’s face is expressionless, he lingers for a moment staring down S_R before slowly walking backwards to the tree, finally pressing his back against it.

S_R’s teeth grind together audibly.  It would be nice if the overgrown moron could scrape together brains enough to look worried when he had a fucking gun to his head.  He locks gaze with the bigger man, black amber on unearthly-blue, and there’s a gravity in his fingers, as if the trigger beneath his touch is hauling itself backwards.

It’s easy.  He knows it’s easy.  He’s pulled this same damn trigger enough times.  He -

The rasp of failing mechanical tones; harsh and skipping like a Citizen’s broken record player, but still damnably clear enough.

I would - have looked you - in the eyes, Commander...’

S_R jerks slightly as the memory breaks, trying to cover his slip with a snarl.

[S_R] C_K. Rope. Now.

There is a moment in which C_K looks worried. Glancing over at S_R as his Captain seems to malfunction for a second. A brief furrow of his brow before he is lowering his head and hooding his eyes; the expression vanishing. He is very carefully blank. Something that his Captain would recognise, but hopefully R_V will not notice.*

[C_K] Yes, Captain. Right away, Sir.

His tone is as yielding as his body language. A Good Ward following the orders of his superior. His gaze almost glassy as he approaches R_V, unravelling the ropes between his hands. There is a slight edge of guilt piercing his chest for correcting S_R about the tree. They need to be a unified team, he can’t be seen to be insubordinate.*

[C_K] Hold still, kid… Would hate to have to ruin the glamour of all those posters of yours.

[R_V] Very good little dog, follow your master's orders.

R_V leans slightly into C_K’s neck as he wraps the rope around him, a wicked smile on his face.  With his eyes fixated on S_R over C_K’s shoulder still, he whispers in his ear.

[R_V] I really do hope the good Captain here has taught you how to properly tie a knot. You wouldn’t like to see what might happen - or… would you, hmm?

R_V leans back again resting his head against the bark of the tree, one eyebrow now raised as his gaze was now on the man in front of him.

[C_K] ~Whoops.~

The Ward jerks on of the ropes so it slips from around R_V’s chest to his throat. A slight tug to give the impression that he wouldn’t be above choking him for the fun of it. Tight enough to make breathing uncomfortable if not impossible. The risk of rope burn present if he struggled.

[C_K] With all due respect, Sir…

The word Sir spoken like it is filth coating his tongue. With none of the awe it had held when directed at S_R*

[C_K] You harm him again, not even Mother Herself could save you from me

The ropes are tightened and knotted. Bound by his hands, torso and throat. C_K gives a wide grin and pats R_V’s cheek before sauntering back over to his Captain*

R_V squirms uncomfortably, trying to ease the pressure of the rope against his neck and hands.  Angrily he stares down the two smaller Wards and spits on the ground in their direction, rather than risk trying to speak.

S_R keeps the gun pointed at R_V for a few more seconds, focusing on the welcome sight of that damn face twisted in discomfort for once.  Bringing himself back to now, back to here.  He’d seen C_K’s glance, knew the man had noticed his own lapse, but… he could live with that.  As long as R_V hadn’t.

When he’s confident enough that his hand won’t shake while he does it, S_R holsters the weapon, and gives R_V one last, withering glance.

[S_R] Now, be a good little lickspittle and try not to throttle yourself until we get back.  If anyone’s going to choke you, I’d like it to be me -

S_R stops, glaring aside as he hears the muttered ‘oh really, Captain?’ from C_K, then continues.

[S_R] Now, you’ve got a nice, long time to think about your position in this unit R_V.  I suggest you think real fucking hard about where your loyalties lie.

[S_R] Have a good couple of days, Commander.

[S_R] And hope we don’t find ourselves… delayed.

With that, the two free Mothermen pick up their packs, and head back the way they came.

-

[mm-unit]

(RP / fic) The Devil and the Details

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.

Title: The Devil and the Details

Setting: Men of Violence. (Fairco backstory.)

Warnings: Violence, manipulation, abuse (physical), hypnotic suggestion, dissociative states, blood, gore, torture.

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.

 Good boy.

 -

[brysontillerteam]

Jabroni (Jabroni Fony)

[faircoarchives]

Visit Original Link

Starring: C_K; N_X; S_R.

In which S_R’s dislocated shoulder receives treatment.

Warnings: Arm injury, vomiting.

Using FromTextToSpeech.com

The muted silence of Level Four is broken by angry footsteps, and angrier voices, one struck through with not a little pain.

[S_R] This is – fucking – ridiculous.

*His teeth are audibly gritted, and as the bickering pair slowly descend the staircase, it is obvious that the Captain is the source of the sharpened breathing.  He is hunched awkwardly, gripping his right arm to his side with the opposite hand, and is visibly pale.

[C_K] No. Ridiculous is the fact that you decided it would be a great fucking idea to antagonise R_V.

*C_K’s voice holds the tone of an irritated father. One hand wrapping its fingers around S_R’s uninjured upper arm. Both to steady him and to make sure he wouldn’t just run off.*

[C_K] Ridiculous is the fact that you were going to try and set your shoulder back in with the fucking door.

*His pace quickens, as if he were afraid that the longer it took to get there, the more likely it would be for the Captain to do a runner*

[C_K] Ridiculous is the fact that you were going to forgo medical attention because of your fucking pride!

[S_R] I’m -

*He stops, choking a little on both the magnitude of the lie that his habitual ‘I’m fine’ would entail, and his own breath when his injured arm brushes against the wall as they step out of the stairwell.

[S_R] -nnghfuck-

[S_R] I am so - sick - of his bullshit.  And I know how to treat a wrenched -

*Another cut-short breath and S_R falls silent, keeping pace with C_K as they head towards the wide white door of the clinic.

*C_K forces a halt just before they make it to the door. Turning to look at S_R properly, but keeping hold of his arm. His voice a low hiss*



[C_K] And you think I’m not? You think I enjoy listening to that tin-toothed arsehole go on about his fucking exploits? You think I like hearing him talk like he’s better than us? No. I fucking don’t. But I need you in top condition because I am not taking orders from a fucking grounded spaceman!

* A deep breath and a gentle tug before he leads them through the door*

[C_K] Play nice… Just a little while longer. We’ll deal with him soon enough…

*S_R takes a few more breaths, his lips twitching violently, but then he nods.

[S_R] ...fine.  Let’s get this - over with.

*The medbay is, mostly, a quiet place. Mostly. Nix looks up with a slight frown from his desk and closes the files in front of him, placing them aside for a moment. The muffled voices from the other side of the door are incomprehensible, except for, for some reason, a rather loud: ‘...grounded spaceman!’

*Nix stands when the door opens. It takes only a few seconds to see there is something wrong with S_R’s arm.

[Nix] -Are You In Need Of Medical Care?-

*S_R’s eyes narrow and he takes a sharp breath as he reads the sign.

[S_R] N-

*C_K swiftly clamps the hand not holding S_R’s arm over his Captain’s mouth. A sharp look before smiling broadly at Nix*

[C_K] Had a bit of an issue in training the new guy, doc. Our good Captain got his shoulder dislocated and we’d really appreciate you popping it back in for him.

*S_R visibly snarls behind the hand - winces - than then deflates, nodding sullenly.  He settles for fixing Nix with a disparaging up-and-down glare.

*Nix’ face grimaces slightly, glancing at S_R’s shoulder. He points towards his examination table, leading the way. Nix looks back at S_R and gestures across the length of the table; ‘lie down’.

[Nix] -Please Remove Your-…-

*He keeps the rest of the card covered with thumb and tugs at his own shirt.

[S_R] Iffph hy cfan movhe

*The focus of his glare moves back to C_K, and he jerks his head against the restraining hand.*

*There is a brief moment in which C_K gives S_R’s jaw a warning squeeze. A narrow of his eyes and a cock of his head tells the other man to behave himself.*

[C_K] You need help removing your shirt? I’ll know if you lie…



*He removes his hand and takes half a step back. His tone stays low in an effort to keep the words between himself and his Captain.*

*S_R jerks away and stomps over to the bed, sitting down heavily.  There is an awkward few moments of pained wriggling before he relents, elbow wedged awkwardly in one strap of his vest.

[S_R] ...well?

*There is a brief moment in which C_K thinks he may start laughing. His facial features twist into something bordering on pain before he becomes carefully neutral.*

[C_K] Of course, Captain. Right away, Sir…

*The corners of his mouth continue to twitch in their losing battle against smiling as he approaches S_R. Hands gentler than one might think as he carefully removes S_R’s vest. Extra mindful of his injured shoulder.*

[C_K] He’s all yours, doc.

*A nod towards Nix before he goes to stand by the door. Both keeping guard and watching over proceedings.*

*There are already spots of angry colour on S_R’s face, even over the general pained palor, but now there is something more embarrassed about the expression.  His lips thin as he glares at Nix.  He doesn’t like the muted man.  It’s not quite personal, but there’s only so much sad-eyed silence he can take from some ill-assigned idiot who keeps looking unnerved that his patients can actually speak.

*Ultimately, he just objects to being sent to the fucking vet.  Maybe it's the best they’ve got, but that, in particular, is too close to the bone for him to be anything but prickly.

*Nix inhales deeply. He looks momentarily concerned when he notes C_K has removed himself from the scene by guarding the door. He can't blame him. Looking back at the tensing Captain, that is probably the best decision.

*Nix turns to S_R, wringing his hands in nervous anticipation. Fingertips barely touching S_R’s shoulder to assess the damage. After a moment of observation, he gently moves the arm in the starting position; the humerus parallel with the chest, the elbow flexed and the arm in a neutral position.

*He pauses. Perhaps asking for C_K’s assistance might not be such a bad idea after all. He looks up, still holding S_R’s arm steady; turns his attention from him to C_K as if he were about to ‘say’ something.

*Without warning, Nix turns S_R’s arm outwards, keeping the elbow in the same position. Two other swift movements follow directly after: pulling the upper arm up and then moving the lower arm back towards his chest. The shoulder pops back into place, as it should, and Nix takes a step back almost instantly.

*S_R has his head turned away from Nix’s attentions, lips pressed tight across his clenched teeth, as the silent Ward carefully assesses his injury.  He manages to keep most of his reaction to the contact down to a few sharp breaths, very deliberately ignoring the man’s turn towards C_K and -

*This time, he does scream.  Already-bruised muscle and bone jams hard, jolting back into place with a whiteout flare that freezes him in place, choking what breath remains after the initial howl.  For a few moments - heartbeat hammering in his ears - he can’t do more than hunch forward, clutching automatically at his abused arm and trying not to throw up, as nausea surges close behind pain.

*Nix waits a moment until S_R’s strongest reactions have all subsided. It’s only when S_R leans forward slightly to cradle his arm, Nix dares to come closer again. But before he does, he reaches out to a book on his desk and flips through the pages.*

*He places the book down in front of S_R. There is only one drawing to be seen: the muscle- and bone- structure of a horse’s shoulder. Nix points at the text next to the picture.*

-”Unless fixed, a broken or dislocated shoulder means an almost certain death for the equine.”-

*Nix smiles, tapping the word ‘fixed’ several times before gesturing at S_R’s shoulder.

*S_R manages to tilt himself up a bit, squinting at the proffered book with watery eyes.  He has gone very pale, and small muscles in his throat are still twitching.

[S_R] Do I - look like a - fucking horse?

*Nix makes a face and closes the book, taking it back to his desk.*

*C_K winces, and has to stop himself from charging across the room and knocking Nix to the ground. Hearing his Captain scream is unnerving at best and verging on terrifying at worst. That need to defend him crawling beneath his skin and making his fingers twitch. The glove muffled CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! of his fingertips snapping together as he regulates his breathing.*

[C_K] Depends on the angle…

*A weak joke, but it is all he can come up with his mind fizzed and rushed. Taking steady steps towards the table and quickly and carefully checking over S_R for himself. It isn't that he doesn't trust Nix and his capabilities, but he just wants to make sure.*

[C_K] Deep breaths, Captain.

*S_R winces a little as C_K touches him, reflexively tightening his own grip on his arm - which is a mistake.  The nausea clamps down again hard, and it is all he can do to hunch further forward, as acid surges in his throat and his stomach clenches violently.  He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and there was never a lot of that, so the overall result is noise rather than volume; unfortunately, C_K’s proximity only serves to maximise that impact.

*C_K knew it was coming but it still doesn’t give him the time to move out of the way. A long resigned sigh as S_R empties the contents of his stomach over C_K’s shoes. He glances down and gives his Captain a look that can only be described as withering.*

[C_K] Really? I suppose I should be grateful that you exist on a mostly liquid diet, otherwise that could have been a hell of a lot messier. Have you eaten anything other than breakfast today?

*A step back and he shakes one foot and then the other, trying to get rid of the mix of stomach acid, bile and what little food S_R had actually consumed.*

*S_R hauls himself up, scrubbing at his mouth.  He’s still pale and tilts his head back, eyes closed, as he lets out a shaking breath.

[S_R] ...my pride, apparently.

*Nix does little to hide his expression of baffled disgust when the few contents of S_R’s stomach spilled all over his freshly cleaned floor tiles. He lowers his brow, giving both men a stern look.*

*As he decides to avoid stepping into something he’d regret, Nix quickly searches through his pile of cards while taking position on the other side of the table.

[Nix] -You Are Required To Remain Still For The Duration Of This Procedure.-

*He bends down, grabbing something from a drawer underneath the table. His smile is far more reassuring as he shows S_R the dark blue sling for his arm.

*S_R takes a few more moments, sightlessly staring upwards into his own eyelids, before he inches one open and looks over at Nix and what he is proffering.  Much of the prickling tension has drained out of the Captain’s stance, and right now he just looks tired.*

[S_R] Fine.  Shall I just write ‘R_V was here’ directly on the damn cast, or is it calibrated for maximum embarrassment on its own?

*He swivels himself around, carefully avoiding getting any of the mess on his own shoes, and scowls at Nix.

[S_R] Get on with it.

*Nix ‘laughs’ by breathing out through his nose in short bursts. He avoids showing his teeth but can’t help to part his lips just a little bit. On the back of one of his cards, he writes something in pencil.*

[Nix] -’I also have a dog cone if you prefer.’-

[S_R] Hah - fucking - hah.

*C_K lets out a short bark of laughter and turns to grin at Nix. Something very genuine in his eyes; soon hooded. Another shake of both feet before he steps back further out of the mess and out of S_R’s way.*

[C_K] I don’t know, S_R, I think you’d look kinda fetching in a cone. It’ll really bring out the spite in your eyes.

*Another appreciative glance at Nix, then he staunters over to the door. Notably more relaxed now that S_R’s arm was back in place.*

[C_K] Come on, Captain… Let’s get you fed. -