Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Year: 2813
Location: Hagur-343 | Round One Simulator
Time: 6:00 PM | Dog Fights

The Tributes’ feet met the ground with a resounding splash, the noise echoing all around them. Dudley was the first to standpoint, albeit slowly and with quiverings traveling through his legs. That… was insane. Insanely cool. Sure would be nice to feel it.

Ah, there he went being a pessimist again.

...And then he puked. Right into the comfortably warm water wading about his ankles, watching as the contents flowed ahead. His dull gaze followed its trail, before looking up completely, taking in his surroundings and realize just how… dimly lit it actually was. The ceiling of a cave towered high above their heads. Only one way to go, the distant strip of moonlight promising an outside world further ahead. Dots of neon blue blanketed the roof like stars of the cosmos, standing out starkly in the low light and shadows. Little globs of the substance plopped into the water.

Glow worms. “...They’re pooping on us,” Dudley muttered. His genius observation was usurped by Hana’s groaning, who finally found the strength to stand while using the cave wall as support. Eyes squinted with lingering dizziness, she blindly waved Dudley over.

“Dudley. C-come, my child. Come.”

Dudley answered promptly, strolling over to the woman and looping her arm around his shoulders with ease. He wasn’t the bulkiest prisoner around, but whatever physique he did have was composed mostly of muscle; practically living in the gym came with its perks, he guessed. The biggest one being that he was able to keep Hana upright. The woman in question took measured breaths, trying to keep the nausea at bay. However, she whipped around quickly as she remembered Bombay.

“Bombay? Are you the okay? Child!”

Bombay was a tad farther away, sitting upright with his back against the wall. A dead end. Two hands covering his face as his chest heaved rapidly, focusing desperately on his breathing until the illness drained from his system. Hana and Dudley limped over to his, the former dropping to her knees next to him as she tried to comfort the teen--

A booming voice traveled through the cavern.


Tags: Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , KatSea KatSea , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay
  • Love
Reactions: CloudyBlueDay


consistently inconsistent
Invitation Status
, , , ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Online Availability
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, No Preferences
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
As A Team
Collab with Mobley Eats Mobley Eats and Elle Joyner Elle Joyner

“You don’t have... to do this, you know.” Gram stood facing Snowman, fingers curling and uncurling at his side with a buzzing energy. Annoyance. Perhaps anxiety, perhaps not. Either way, the sparks kindling within his dull eyes were unmistakable.

“I want to,” Snowman signed, his lips pressed into a thin line. Stubborn. He was always so damn stubborn. Regardless, Gram knew that he could match that stubbornness and he shook his head, a hand raising to stop the white-haired man in his tracks.

“No. You’re staying… here. Your safety has… already been compromised.”

In the blink of an eye, the distance between them vanished. Snowman towered over Gram, glaring down at the man with as much ferocity as his soft disposition could offer. It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough to make Gram’s eyes widen ever so slightly before falling back into that blank stare. His fingers were entangled between Snowman’s, though they remained loose and unshaken within the firm grasp.

Snowman didn’t need to sign anything to express his emotions in that moment.

A stifling moment of silence. Then Gram freed his hand, only to cup the back of Snowman’s neck and pull him down until their foreheads touched. Their stares clashed like daggers. “She’s broken you,” Gram whispered firmly, “And Pandora’s broken you… That’s twice. I won’t… let a third time… happen.”

Snowman’s nostrils flared, a thin sheen of wetness collecting within his eyes. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how dangerous all of this was. How much of a gamble it’d all be. This was now an all for nothing battle--a declaration of war. But Romana underestimated the wrong ones. She underestimated a ship’s worth of killers and maniacs hellbound on severing her head from her shoulders.

Slowly, shakily, his lips parted. “We’re… already b-broken. So bring it… on.”

Gram’s other hand came to rest over Snowman’s mouth. He shook his head. “No more of that… I get it.” He got it. If speaking was ripped from his lungs, then Gram understood. He had no chance of convincing Snowman otherwise. “We’ll switch. You… take Archer and I’ll… take Pandora and Twitch.” His grip on the back of Snowman’s neck tightened. “You know what to do.”

Snowman nodded. He did.

They were already broken.

Gram had never realized such an obvious truth until Snowman uttered it into existence. Heh. Well, then, if that were the case, then he wouldn’t mind if the serial killer came back physically decimated as well.

Gram stood before a door--the door holding his targets. His goals. The future source of pain, if Pandora had anything to say about it.

On the brightside, her fury could be fun. Fuck the pain.

His fingers briefly ghosted against the fabric of his sleeve, right where his wrist was, and traced the edges of the device waiting underneath. His trump card.

Then, he knocked.

In the midst of pulling on her tanktop, Pandora's eyes shifted to the door, and a brow rose in curiosity, then concern, “Get dressed…” She suggested to Abe, before zipping up her jumpsuit, shaking tangles from her bright colored hair, before approaching the door.

Pulling it open, the color drained from her cheeks before flooding again, and without a word, she gripped Gram by his arm and slammed the man into the door frame, eyes narrowing as her free arm barred against his neck, “Gimme a damn good reason not to end you, you son of a bitch…”

Tugging the zipper if his jumpsuit Abraham stood, watching with narrowed eyes as Pandora pulled open the door. Frankly it was strange that anyone happened to knock at all, but as Gram came into view, a small chortle fell out of Abe as Pan had him pinned in the next second. “Aw, look at that.” He said with a smirk, standing beside Pandora defensively, prepared to do something if he moved. “It’s our favorite pal Graham Cracker coming to congratulate us on the win.”

Gram’s body grew limp the moment Pandora lashed out, a current of stinging pain traveling throughout his back and throat as she pinned him in place. He refused to stray his gaze from hers and met the fire behind her eyes head on with unshakable indifference. “Break me if… you want,” he wheezed, “But I have a… deal for you, you don’t… want to turn down.”

“Golly gee, Abe. A deal.” Pandora hissed, and despite the amusement in her words, her eyes held venom, posture tense, kinetic, “So your plan to blow me up doesn't work and you think you can appeal to me with… what… fresh sheets and a clean bar of soap?”

Abraham’s brows furrowed, arms crossed. The man was uncharacteristically limp in Pandora’s hold, and seemed a little docile, even. As his hands danced along the side of his thigh, eyes blinking furiously, Abe tilted his head. “I dunno. Fresh sheets and a clean bar of soap sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.” He hummed. “Don’t snap him in half quite yet, love, ‘else we’ll have to deal with the body.”

“The man’s got a point…” Gram drawled. Abe was right--clean sheets and a bar of soap was nothing to scoff at on Hagur, though the serial killer and Snowman were provided just that. Either way, he needed to focus on the matter at hand. “But no, that’s not… the offer. I’ve got an… even better one, in the form of… taking down our favorite… warden.” He held up both hands complacently, like a convict submitting themselves to the authorities. “Willing to hear me… out?”

“Hiding bodies isn’t the hard part, Abe.” Pan said, deadpan, without a trace of irony or humor. A brow rose, however, as Gram continued, and a frown found her lips, “Right. And I’m just supposed to trust that you’re on the up and up with this, and it’s not some pathetic trap to get us killed outside the games? What reason do I have to trust one word that comes out of your mouth?”

“She’s right. You’re not the type of guy I’m dyin’ to believe.” Abe muttered. “How do we know she ain’t watchin’ this conversation right now?” With a toothy grin Abraham poked his head out the door and searched the ceiling for a camera. “Hi, Romana, love! How dumb do you think we are?”

“You don’t have much reason…” Gram admitted. “If Romana knew of this… meeting or was watching, I’d… be dead already.” He gestured to his left wrist, the fabric falling only slightly to reveal a thin wristband with a rounded head. “And to answer your… question, Twitch. She believes you… are the dumbest of them all. But,” he shrugged, “She has a habit of… underestimating everyone.”

Eyes falling to the wristband, Pandora hesitated briefly, before lowering her arm from Gram’s neck. He had a point. Not necessarily that she’d believe he would be dead, but that no one had come yet to stop her from strangling him. Whatever favor he curried with the Warden, that he’d walk away with a sprained or broken thumb and the next morning showed no signs of the injury… she had no doubt she’d have been swarmed if they were watching.

“If she thinks Abe’s the dumb one, she’s stupider than I imagined...Start talking, Gram. I smell anything fishy, I’ll snap you in two…”

“Aww… you don’t mean that, do you? My feelings would be so hurt if she really thought that.” He flashed Pan a genuine smile at her rebuttal, and resumed his stance beside her. Though his posture was nonchalant, he could see the worry in Gram’s eyes, the tenseness of the situation. He nodded slowly, waving his hand at Gram to urge him to speak.

“I don’t mean it. Romana… does,” Gram muttered, though his eyes remained glued to Pandora. Ah, yes. That scalding fury, just as he predicted. He briefly wondered if she would just kill him afterwards but, then again, there was no need or chance or turning back now. Carefully, he reached around in the hold to pinch his wristband and with a confirming beep, a small projection screen emitted from it. On it appeared to be a bar graph titled Popularity Board. “I was given this the… moment I got onboard. Let’s just… say that you’re both very… very popular.”

Staring at it, Pandora’s frown deepened, her eyes shifting from the graph, back to Gram, “...What the hell is this? Prisoner poll?”

“Very popular?” Abraham echoed, staring at the poll. “Probably among the rich fucks that watch the Dog Fights, then?”

“Yeah… No. More than just the super rich,” Gram said, “Anyone on earth who can afford… it, they can watch. We’re all being watched… on a global scale. Every step. Every breath. Every word you say… everything you do. Romana… sees and records all of it.”

Straightening, Pandora stepped back from the serial killer, “...You’ve got to be kidding me. I knew it! I knew that bitch was manipulating this ship for a reason... “ Smacking her palm into the opposite doorframe, she swore, “We’re a frickin’ sport… a God damn reality show!”

Abe’s eyes widened, but his expression was unchanged, still staring at the projected poll in front of them. “...Oh.” He said softly, raking a hand through his hair. Watched. The Put Down incident… had to be for ratings. Everything he’d done, everything they'd wanted him to do… “Why you tellin’ us, Gram?”

Gram watched Pandora’s reaction while rubbing his neck. Disinterested. But grateful nonetheless to breathe properly once more. He nodded slowly. “Reality show is the… perfect word for it.” His gaze rolled over in Abe’s direction, just taking a moment to catch his breath before speaking again. “Because… I was a fucking idiot and thought… I could trust her. But she doesn’t… give a shit about blood.” His jaw clenched. “And I shouldn’t either… All that matters is… spilling hers.”

Spinning back to Gram, Pandora’s gaze hardened again, her fists balling at her sides, “...What the hell do you mean, ‘about blood’ ??” But she didn’t need the answer. It was apparent enough, “...That’s it. That’s the key, isn’t it? All the special attention, The special treatment. What is she… your sister?”

“Ew. You’re related to Romana? Damn.” Abraham chuckled, though it was somewhat strained. Between Gram’s taste for revenge and Pan’s boiling anger, Abe was trying not to freak out. “What, she break a pinky promise? Threaten your boy toy, now you wanna rope us into your flimsy scheme? Whatever the hell it is?” Abraham shook his head. “Sounds fishy to me. But then again, apparently everything on this ship is.”

A grimace immediately pulled at Gram’s countenance. “No. She’s my… mother’s sister. My aunt.” God. Bile climbed up the back of throat just admitting it out loud. He briefly wondered how his mother maintained sanity with Romana as a sibling. Or him as a son. However, his thoughts screeched to a halt upon hearing Twitch and the flames of annoyance crawled up his back. The prisoner inhaled slowly, shakily, attempting to stave off the emotion before hissing between clenched teeth, “She fucked me over and… that’s all that matters. As of… right now, I’m your best shot… at freedom. Do you want to listen… or not?”

“You realize if you dick us over, and anything goes south with this… I’m not comin’ for you, Gram. And given who your Aunt is, I imagine you know who I am and what I’m capable of, so I’m sure you know that’s a credible threat.” Unfurling her fists, she leaned against the doorframe, “Talk. And keep it nice and simple. No cryptic bullcrap.”

“Any threat of yours is credible, love, no matter what.” Abe chirped, smiling at Gram. “Freedom does sound nice, though. Real nice. We’ll hear you out. No cryptic bullcrap, remember.”

“You’re not coming for him… either,” Gram muttered, fire flashing in his eyes. She’d had to clamber over his dead body before coming anywhere near Snowman, before yanking loose of his grip beyond the grave. Regardless, he avoided eye contact with the woman, eyes trained to the tiles as he gathered his thoughts. No cryptic bullshit, they said. Fine. He’d be straightforward. “Romana uses Eavesbots all over the ship… to watch us. The cameras are… to mislead you. All of them… are linked to her mind. But… I know how to access the… system. In the conference chamber.”

He made a move to sit on the nearest bed… only to realize that the couple may have had sex in it and opted instead for standing. Disgusting rabbits. “I need the extra muscle… and you two are the only… ones I can ask because… of your ratings. Romana’s only human. She… can’t view thousands of recordings at… once. Especially not with the… games happening. So she won’t be paying… attention to high rankers.”

“...Eavesbots…” Frowning, Pandora shook her head. It made sense. It made too much sense, “It’s not just the games, is it? She’s got her hands in everything.” Looking up at him, she studied him, watching for ticks, for tells, for any indication he might be lying. He wasn’t an easy man to read, but the sincerity was reflected more in his words than anything, “What’s this plan of yours, then?”

Abraham’s foot tapped awkwardly, repeatedly, with agitation. This was fucked in so many ways but was it even surprising? How much of his life had been streamed on TV, how many people had watched, what had Romana seen? “This is bloody fantastic.” He groaned. “Amazing. Stunning. Just tell us how we can kill her already.”

Gram smoothed his hair back with a sigh. “Think about it. If I… hack the system, the same system… that’s linked to her brain… We could have her life at our… mercy, on top of blinding her. Without footage for her… customers, they’ll be pissed. Broadcasting will… stop. Higher ups will be furious and suddenly… her life won’t be so cushy anymore.” Gram didn’t want to just end her life, he wanted to thoroughly ruin it. “Romana is currently with AM… That’s where she always is… during the Dog Fights. Aside from… a few guards, it’s a clear… shot inside. They’ll let us in, but… once my infiltration is noticed you have… to protect me.”

There was logic to it, and Pandora couldn’t deny that… but it wasn’t a foolproof plan, and there were a lot of fools on Hagur, for sure… “So you hack the system and we play bodyguard till the job is done. What’re we supposed to do when it’s done? Walk away, whistlin’ and hop on a space shuttle for home?”

Abe shook his head, foot still tapping. “It’s risky as hell. If you fuck it up for Romana and we don’t escape, she’ll just lock us in the Cage for the rest of our sentence and call it a day. How do we get out of there? And..” He glanced at Pan, jaw tight. “Is it just us you’re askin’? Pan could take ten men bare handed, but I ain’t a heavy hitter. What about weapons?”

“I never said we… would strike today,” Gram said, “Today, we gather those… weapons you’re so worried about. That is… Snowman and Archer’s job.” The real risk of these missions resided in the timing; the periods they had to work with were guaranteed, as Romana never strayed away from schedule or routine, but they didn’t last long. Performing both missions in the same “blind period” was out of the question, but he knew that retrieval on Snowman’s end would draw far less suspicion. Gram could thank his connections with Fritz for that one.

“Tomorrow is when we… act. During the second round… of the Dog Fights. We’ll have even… more time to work then. And once… Romana’s bots are hacked? She and… every guard will be at… our mercy.” His eyes hardened like twin glaciers. “She might be a bitch, but… she’s a cowardly one. She’d never… put her life on the line.”

“Wait, wait… Hang on. Archer??” Her eyes narrowed, and pushing off the doorframe, Pandora shook her head, “No way. I wouldn’t trust that prick to use the same toilet as me. You want me to work with him on a mission to take down the Warden? You don’t think he’s gonna be just a little salty with us for taking him out of the game to begin with? How’re they getting the weapons?” Looking to Abe, trying to gauge his response to all of this, she shrugged, “And we’re not leavin’ Switch behind.”

Archer. Great. Abe’s jaw tightened, teeth clenched, fingers drumming along his crossed arms. “He’s not gonna be so happy to see us.” Abe grumbled, shaking his head. This plan had holes… Gram was too desperate for revenge. He’d been there before, wrapped up in the moment, thinking nothing could go wrong. Besides the usual jitters, Abe was tense. This didn’t feel right. “She’s right. We ain’t leaving Switch behind. Not anyway in hell. This is feelin’ a little wish-washy to me, Gram. I’m not sure how much I like it.”

“Have no choice to but use… him.” It took all of Gram’s might not to roll his eyes; the bombardment of questions were damn annoying, though he understood why they came. Didn’t make it any easier to practice patience, but still. “You saw the ratings… his is one of the highest and… Romana won’t pay attention to high raters… Hmm.” He hummed while raising both hands, raising and lowering them like the ends of a balance beam. “Get revenge for petty fight… or kill the Warden, who’s… the literally bane of our existence? I… wonder which one he’d choose.” It wasn’t wise to allow so much sarcasm to seep into this tone, but it was there, as bright and clear as day.

However, he just barely held in a sigh when Twitch and Pandora refused to budge without Switch. Ah, yes--the one who had a seizure. He knew all about her little condition. Unimpressed, his glazed eyes rolled over to stare pointedly at Abe. “Bringing Switch along. Doesn’t… that sound a bit… selfish?” His head cocked. “More stress on her? I’m sure… that’s exactly what she needs.”

“If you’re talkin’ about whatever the hell’s wrong with Switch, it ain’t somethin’ you need to worry about. We do this with her, or you find someone else. And from the sounds of it, I don’t think you have that luxury. As far as Archer’s concerned, I don’t buy for a second he’d choose freedom over revenge, because he’s a damn psycho and an idiot, but as long as he plays ball, it’s not any stress on my back. He’s not hard to put down, if I need to. Still didn’t explain how the hell we walk away from doing this without targets on our back… Just gonna ask Romana real nice to let us off the ship?”

Abe grimaced. It was true that he didn’t want to leave Switch, but the Dog Fights was already way too much for someone in a predicament such as hers. A risky plan that could very well end in their demise? Who knew what that type of stress would do to her. Despite his visible cringe, he kept his mouth shut about any resistance, and nodded slowly along with Pan’s words. This was their only chance. Didn’t matter how risky, didn’t matter how untrustworthy… it was a shot.

“What she said.” Abe grumbled, picking at a hangnail.

Gram heaved another sigh. Questions. Questions. And more questions. He never realized how much Pandora could run her mouth until now--he half expected it from Abe, but not her. Regardless, once again, he understood her suspicions. “We don’t need to ask… her for that, at all,” he said. His eyes strayed up to the ceiling, adopting a terribly fake expression of contemplation. “If I recall… correctly… Good ole Luca and Bahram were given… interesting offers recently.” He shrugged lightly. “Shame that they turned it… down. Even with a promise to use… those escape pods.” He tapped his temple as a flash of a grin pulled at his lips. “Gaining access to those… will take less time than cracking… those eavesbots… And fine. The sickly one can… come too.”

The confirmation wasn’t surprising, regarding Switch’s health, but it wasn’t easy to hear. She wondered now, no… didn’t wonder, but knew, rather, that this was what Abe was trying to get Switch to tell her. Which meant that somehow, Abe knew before she did… Abe knew Switch was sick before she’d told her own cellmate… She wouldn’t pretend that didn’t sting a little.

“...You said second round… how are we supposed to swing that, when we’re in the second round? Might’ve forgotten your little trick to blow us up didn’t exactly pan out.”

“Pan out.” Abe echoed with a weak chuckle. “Not surprised the goody two shoes turned down the offer.” The whole situation bothered him, especially the silence on Pan’s end about Switch’s ‘sickness.’ Damn, that was definitely out now. Abraham kept his gaze down.

“What do we both know? That… Romana is a fucking control freak,” Gram started. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “She needs these fights to… go exactly as she plans. If not… her higher ups will throw a… fit. Those weapons that… Snowman and Archer are jacking?” There was a hint of something sinister in his smile, that wonderful crazed feeling bubbling to the surface. “She can’t perform the… second round without it. She doesn’t… like to compromise or change shit… Knowing her, she’ll put the entire… Dog Fights on hold. Boss gets antsy. She gets… antsy. Distracted.”

Nodding slowly, Pan seemed to consider everything for a moment. There was nothing foolproof about it, that was for sure. In her mind she could see all of the potential flaws… the holes… the possible traps. But in the end it was also better than the opportunity they had on their own. Gram meant business - she could see it in the man’s eyes, and with Abe and Switch beside her, Pan wasn’t too worried about things going wrong on their end. Archer was a loose canon, and the last thing she wanted was to give him access to humanity again but hell if she cared enough not to get off the ship…

But it irked her - putting her life and the lives of her friends in the hands of a man who had quite literally tried to blow her up. It irked her to no end.

“...Alright. I’m in.”

Abe’s gut was twisted with concern, but he knew that this was their best shot. Their only shot. He’d rotted on this ship ten years, his youth, his prime. He was sick of it… especially now, that he had people to fight for.

“..I’m in too.” He muttered with a deep sigh.

If anyone were to point out the relief flooding his grin, Gram would deny it until his dying breath. “Excellent… I believe this is the start… of a wonderful team.”
  • Like
Reactions: KatSea

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Battle of the Means | Interactions: Luca Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , Chloe, Bah KatSea KatSea and Hana's Team

As he found solid purchase again, Luca doubled over, breathing deeply through his nose to stem off the feeling of nausea burning in his gut, spitting the taste of bile into the stream running beneath his feet. For a moment, hands shaking, he couldn't quite orient himself, but as the dizziness subsided and straightening, he turned to find Bah and Chloe.

Chloe could have sworn her organs had liquified, leaving her a nauseated and disgruntled bag of flesh. Finding her own two knees, she doubled over and practiced gentle inhales and exhales. The feeling was familiar. It nipped miserably at her stomach, but by some grace of God no sickness escaped her. Bitter bile piled up against the back of her teeth, coating her tongue, flooding her throat. Something sweet. Something overpowering to her taste. That would get the illness out of her, rather than keeping it in. However, she forced herself to prop herself back to her feet, placing her hand to her temple. “F-f-fuck-” She stammered, finding the faintest sliver of relief within her shuffled up words.

“Glad to see you are alright, lads.” She heard Bah call from a few feet away, for he seemed to have recovered at a decent rate. His hand was pressed firmly against his stomach, while he rubbed his eyes with the back of his knuckles. He did appear pale, and for a moment, Chloe thought he was going to grow dastardly ill. Rather, he found his footing and composed himself. “Welcome to hell, lads.”

The cavern closed in on all sides, leaving the only route obvious. It would no doubt lead to a central point of contact, which meant, as far as Luca was the last place they needed to rush towards. They had weapons that were intended for an upper hand close up… Defensive and observational. He'd never intended to hurt Hana or the boys… but her lack of eye contact getting into the pods told him that maybe, just maybe, she had intentions all her own.

It hurt a little… and not least of all because he revered the woman so deeply…

Moving to help Chloe upright, Luca looked between the two, “We need a plan… and we need it fast. You've seen the weapons they have. Won't do us any favors in a place like this. You okay, Clo?”

“N-no s-shit, S-Sherlock.” Chloe stammered, grimacing moments after having spoken. “S-sorry. S-sorry.” Eyes flickering up to Bahram, who appeared calm and leveled, already begun the process of activating the eavesbot.

“You two can discuss, I’m gonna try and get a read on this place.” Leveling the bot with his eyesight, Bahram felt a connection form between his consciousness and the small device, adjusting briefly to seeing through its lens. “The young lad has one as well, so we have to be swift about this. Cautious. Now…” Focusing his will upon the bot, he found that ease soon came with its controls, and he guided it down the caverns tunnel.

“I have an idea…” Luca said quietly, a small frown on his lips as Bah reminded them of the other bot, “We go out too far, we ain't gonna last long. Not with the weapons they have. Bah.. C’mere. Huddle up…”

“That’s never a good phrase.” Bahram grumbled uncertainly, blinking a few times to adjust his sight. Once he paused the eavesbot’s movement, he turned to face his roommate and Chloe. As to be expected, the plan could work on paper. In fact, cross out several factors of hesitation, anxiety, and big ass weapons, bahram could see something working. However, he could feel his own shoulders tense with every movement of his roommate’s big, idiotic but brilliant mouth. He brought his thumb to his brow and loosened the scowl. “You really think that will work, Lucky?”

“Hell if I know…” Luca muttered, “But it's the best I can come up with… And the only thing that won't get them or us killed.” His fingers grazed the bomb attached to his belt, frowning softly, “I'll need to give it a countdown.. Before I throw it, or they could chuck it back our way. Once it's dispersed, you know what to do.”

Turning, Luca pulled the bomb into his palm and started forward, but something… A gnawing uneasiness in his chest halted him. Hana was a good woman. A damn good woman. But she would do what she had to, to protect her kids… even from the people who cared about her. This wasn't a tea party. It was the Dog Fights… And hell if he expected anyone to lay down arms for the sake of a friend.

Swearing, he spun around again and moved back into the cavern. Seamlessly, his fingers wound through blonde curls, and cupping the back of Chloe's head, he pulled her forward, lips finding hers in a kiss.

“Lad, if we win or lose, know that this is equally the dumbest yet efficient plan I’ve heard in a while.” Bahram brushed his hair back, biting his lip harshly as the sharp realization that the clock was ticking down hit him square in the chest. He did not know what overtime looked like, but he feared the worst. If all went to plan, this should have only taken a few minutes… “You should take a glove with you, lad. Just to be…”

“Mmph!” The exclamation took Bahram from his thoughts, head swiveling back to find that Luca had… He turned his head back away, hand over his brow. His eyes meet the cavern walls, and with a simple shrug he muttered. “Ah, lucky boy.”

Chloe’s form was overwhelmed with shock as Luca had found courage to pull his lips to hers, and for a moment, surprise took control of her entirely. Finding an inhale, she pulled away, and claimed clear as day. “You. Come back. Alive.”

Reaching for the other bomb, Luca slid it into Chloe's hand, giving a nod, “I'll try my damndest, Carina... But just in case.” With a breathless chuckle, he turned to Bah, “Take care of the big guy here, Clo…” And with slightly more enthusiasm, he started forward again. Roughly a few feet from the end of the gap, where the cavern widened, he activated the smoke bomb and with a five count in his head, hurled it across the chasm, towards the opening on the other side.

Hana and Dudley heard Luca’s footsteps before they really saw him and even then, it was the object sailing overhead that briefly caught their attention. It landed in the mouth of the opposite cave with a resounding splash, followed by the clicks of slots opening all around it. A thin cloud of smoke ejected from the bomb and spread quickly, most of it filling into the cave.

A yelp echoed in the cave. Then a horrified scream. Bombay.

Hana could’ve sworn the air evacuated her lungs, dragging her own heart with it and depositing the organ into the water beneath her. She turned sharply on her heel, the plan nearly forgotten in the face of raging concern. “Child! It will be the okay! I am the com--”

Dudley seized her arm. Then shook his head. Don’t. A simple message that didn’t need any words, but it held more than enough persuasive power to ground Hana. The woman grit her teeth, the Blazer trembling within her grasp. First River, then Bombay, and soon Dudely too… Eyes burning, she turned back around with an infuriated and hoarse growl under her breath, chest heaving as she steadied her breathing. Without looking back, she called out, “Stay where you are, child! Stay the safe!”

Dudley turned the dial on his CWE.

Hana’s eyes narrowed. “We will come back for you the soon.”

A heartbeat.

Then another.

Hana sprinted to the right, while Dudley aimed at the cavern walls to the left. He pulled the trigger.

“Your boyfriend’s dumber than a bag of rocks.” The mountain of a man claimed, affection layering the majority of his gruff tone. Turning his attention back to the bot, he blinked once, then again, until he was able to connect with the small device’s line of vision.

“C-couldn’t a-agree more.” A gentle grumble boomed from behind him, and despite the severity of their situation, a soft laugh crawled from his lips. Raising the bot above his head, then allowing it to flurry for a few laps, Bahram shot down the device towards Luca’s path, requiring a brief moment or three to fully encase the current situation. Luca had appeared to complete his job, but rather than hitting Hana and Dudley, it seemed to arise some concern from the older woman. He must have hit something, then. Perhaps Bombay, who was not in his current line of sight. Bahram realized that as Dudley was moving around, attempting to get into a proper position to shoot, it was a more difficult situation to conduct his plan.

However, once Dudley was decently still and intent upon shooting the cavern wall, Bahram, with as much force as he could muster, sent the eavesbot hurtling through the small space of atmosphere, hoping to hand a crack straight over Dudley’s metal plate.

“W-w-we must l-look l-like fucking d-d-dorks.” Chloe muttered in the meantime, bringing Bahram temporarily out of his focus. Regaining the image from the bot, Bahram hurled it as far from his potential target as he could. “J-just s-standing h-here.” Another mumble, and before Bahram realized what was happening, Chloe placed a soft object into the palm of Bahram’s hand. Shutting the vision off briefly, he turned to notice a glove. “G-gonna b-be less s-strong, b-but we c-can use i-it as offense.” She suggested quietly, turning to the entrance of the cavern and allowing a thin rim of energy to cascade along the opening of their hall. “A l-little p-pap and p-pap action.” She teased, grinning.

“Deader than dead, lass.” Bahram muttered, attention geared to the bot as he fiercely attempted to flutter the damn object away from potential harm.

Leaning into the cavern wall, Luca flinched at the sound of Bombay’s screams. These were people he protected. People he defended, and his hands were being forced, just to survived… to keep the others alive. To keep Chloe safe. He hated it. He hated Romana… and in that moment, he felt the same fire he’d felt when he’d held his dying brother in his arms, eyes burning hot. Hana called for the panicked kid, and Luca’s fists balled at his side.

“This is what they make us give, Hana!” He called, voice shaking slightly, “You think it’s chance we’re pitted against each other?? They want you to choose! To choose between the people you care about! They want us to bring you down and watch how it breaks us! Listen to him, Hana! That kid! You think they give a damn about how scared he is right now? You think they give a damn about what any of us feel. Bread and circuses, and we’re the God damn clowns!” Rubbing his forehead, he breathed in, “I don’t wanna hurt you, Hana… But… but I can’t…” Voice breaking, he dropped his head back to the cavern wall, pinching his thumbs and fingers over his eyes with a softly uttered curse, “I can’t lose those years, Han. I need them. F-for her. I need to get her out…”


Dudley blinked as something small smacked him right in the metal plate on his head. His expression didn’t change, though his trigger finger relaxed with bland curiosity. Blinking, he watched as an Eavesbot raced away from him…


Then aimed and actually fired this time. The puck ejected from the CWE and latched onto the cavern wall with a muted thunk. Eyes squinting, the man stared at the little device, making sure that it would stick, before swinging his weapon around to aim a tad closer to the cavern the other team resided. Not quite above the opening, but still closer to the left half of the opening.

As his trigger finger fell into position, he gave pause at the sound of Luca’s words.

Hana didn’t.

Head lowered and powering through the water in a desperate run, the woman drew upon every ounce of willpower not to listen. Not to give in. She knew. Goddammit--of course she knew that she was playing right into Romana’s hands. This was all the devil woman wanted. To rip all of them apart, inside and out, mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually… until there was nothing left but pathetic piles of ashes. But her kids… her kids. Her friends. Her kids. Her children. Her reason for still living on this forsaken ship. Without them to look after, she would’ve… Everything would have ended years ago.

Even after all this time, she was playing into the hands of a master after all.

She came to a stop on top of raised gravel, just a few inches above water level, and looked about the clearing with wide, wet eyes. The puck was in place. According to plan, but… “O-oh Sky Father… Sky Father, I-I don’t…” she whimpered, staring down at the Blazer in her grasp. She knew what she had to do. It was all Dudley’s plan. The biggest part of it all. But she couldn’t bare the thought of doing so…

”No… no! I will not the do that! We come up with the different of plans--”

“Hana.” A hand clasped her shoulder. Dudley looked her dead in the eyes. “It’s okay. Maybe I’ll finally feel something for once.”

Tears rolling down her cheeks, she shakily raised the Blazer. “I’m sorry!”

Luca wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but whatever it was, it didn’t come. Hana’s apology resonated through the cavern, and while he could feel the emotion behind the words, and knew at heart they were genuine, it still felt like a knife, twisted in his gut. She’d chosen. Fair enough…

“So am I…” He murmured, and without waiting, he twisted away from the wall and as fast as he could, he sprinted back towards where Bah and Chloe were waiting, “...I think they’re trying to cause a cave in. Bombay’s blinded, but the smoke missed Dudley and Mo--… and Hana.”

Bahram’s focus on the device was shattered completely once Luca’s voice greeted him. He had seen as much from the device, and without a response, Bahram gingerly plucked the bomb from Chloe’s hand and directed her shield to the side, “If we’re fast enough we can try to bomb em with the spare.” he suggested gently, slipping the glove safely onto his hand. A gentle exhale escaped him, although he chuckled. “Ya know, I’m really too tense to be fightin out there, lad. Put down the gloves a while ago, really don't wanna slide the greasy bastards back on.” With a small huff, he turned from the two of them and winked. “Gonna go out there and try what I can, ya? Stay behind me would ya?”

Dudley heard Hana’s cries after Luca’s and somewhere, deep in the pit of his being, he could’ve sworn he felt a stir of… something. He didn’t want to get hopeful and assume it to be an emotion of some sort, but it had to be something. Maybe indigestion? Yeah, that could be it… But he was never good at lying to himself. To others? Oh yeah, no problem. But it was just Dudley and himself within that echoing freezer for a mind, and he knew the truth of the matter.

Nothing about this would turn out good.

So not a single ounce of hesitation seized him as he shot the second puck. A fraction of a second after it released, a faint beep emitted from the first puck and a ring of concussive destruction expelled outward. A ground-shaking boom filled the opening, nearly knocking Dudley off his feet as rubble spilled from the wall. Piles meters high cascaded and covered a majority of the elevated land on that side and as Dudley took in his handy work, he couldn’t help but huff to himself. “...It worked.”

Then, he looked back at Hana. They locked eyes once more. The woman delved into the empty, dull eyes of Dudley, searching vehemently for resistance, an inkling chance that he would change his mind. Any hope she had was shattered as he nodded. Once. Firmly. Slowly, he mouthed, “Do it.”

Sucking in a stuttering breath, Hana screwed her eyes shut, vision far too blurry with tears, and unleashed a bolt of electricity.

Straight into the water.

Angry energy traveled throughout the entire clearing and straight into the systems of every form within the water. With a pained grunt, Dudley seized up, agony ripping up his muscles and straight to the metal plate on his head. He felt it. He felt so much in that moment that he knew he’d never feel such a thing again for as long as his life lasted. He had almost forgotten. Pain. Man… feeling pain was overrated, but it was something.

If there was anything Chloe wanted to do in this moment, it was to push pass the men with too many hardened balls and put her hands up in surrender. This was foolish, and a cruel act brought upon Romana to get some entertainment out of their already miserable lives. If there was anything Chloe would practice over and over again to say, it would be a simple fuck you to the conniving bitch.
Yet the moment she gained courage to take a step forward, to consider what syallabes her tongue could form, pain shot up her ankles, spiking and travelling across her entire body in a fit of crackling agony. Her jaw slackened, already dull eyes lighting up in pain. She wanted to laugh, a little bit in that moment. The bear of a man in front of her seized like a deer in headlights, his form tensing and threatening to crumble to his knees. This wasn’t the worst thing she felt in her life, and yet it was enough to take down Bear. Teeth gritting, her body froze and her vision became blurry. Even if it hurt, even if it was a goddamn betrayal brought to her personally by the bitch from above, it was over. It was over and she wanted to laugh.

There were a few feelings felt more than others… Love, sadness, anger… but there was an emotion in particular that Luca had only really felt in his core that resonated with such passion that it had driven him to try and kill a man. Betrayal swept away bits of his soul, leaving him hollow and empty of all but rage. He’d felt it the day his brother died, and a part of him felt it there in the cavern, as he heard the rocks fall and his mind knew… knew what he’d missed. What was coming.

And for the second time in his life, he felt utterly betrayed. They’d stood together, against Romana, against her games and manipulations. They had protected those in need, those smaller and weaker. And maybe it was foolish, because hell, it was prison, but a part of him had thought, had dared to think that that meant something. But she’d chosen. She’d chosen a side. Chosen to give in. Like that, in a split second decision, she had severed the only opportunity he had to make a dent in Chloe’s years. And he couldn’t even shield Chloe from it. He had to watch her crumble… and that hurt worse than any pain he felt from the shock. It was over fast, but only physically…

Breathing shallow and rapid, Hana stood and watched as everyone seized with pain before falling immobile. She… She had done it. She’d really done it. In an instant, a spike of nausea and hatred and shame skewered her alive. An agonized groan ripped from her lungs as her gaze zeroed in on Dudley. Twitching. Lying supine. The thinnest, nearly invisible tendrils of smoke trailing up from his head… He was alive. But fuck… Fuck!

What had she done?

Sobs spilled from her, loud and unbidden and pitiful, as she plopped one foot into the water. A minor jolt, but nowhere near enough to incapacitate her. Then another step. Another. Another. Until she was standing over Luca’s body. She parted her lips to speak, only for utter silence and further cries to escape her. Talking wasn’t an option. Not right now. Still trembling from head to toe, she extracted a chip from her belt pouch and attached it to the back of his vest.

A flicker. And he was gone.

Those next few moments registered in Hana’s mind as fuzziness. Corners of her reality burning away like paper to fire. She chipped Chloe and Bah next. Another part of the plan. To give all of the chips to Hana. To place everything, the entirety of their plan, onto her shoulders as mother… She could’ve vomited then and there. The rest of the team flickered away and as Hana rose to her feet and stepped back out into the opening, her gaze snapped up. It was a hologram of the night sky, but it didn’t matter. Romana would see this face. Would take in the absolute rage and hatred kindling behind the woman’s eyes like hell fire.

Just as Bombay staggered out into the opening, eyes red and teary from the lingering effects of the bomb, his Eavesbot revealed itself, peeling from the wall just above their own cavern. The teen blindly crawled his way to Dudley’s side, hands hovering over his twitching form, unsure of what to do--

In the next instant, they were transported back to the ascension pods.

Elle Joyner

Invitation Status
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Pick Your Posion -- River, Wick & Fritz

That was… a deliciously surprising round. Fritz had his doubts that watching the band of preppy prisoners would lead to much bloodshed or violence, but he had been proven wrong. Pleasantly so. The emotional anecdotes on Mother Hen and dear Lucky’s part was a tad… overkill, but he enjoyed the tension, nonetheless.

“Such a marvelous display,” Fritz chuckled, his arm looped around Wick’s waist. Just as those words escaped him, Hana’s team appeared in the ascension pods and were immediately transported to the infirmary. He could only watch in bemusement as the Tributes hollered and mocked the woman--her reputation would be in the gutter come tomorrow, if it wasn’t already.

An intermission passed, but Fritz could’ve sworn he only blinked when the guard’s booming voice filled the chamber.

“Adrian, Wicker and River versus Elijah, Capheus, and Wyatt! Step forward and choose your weapon of choice! After making your selection, step into the ascension pods!”

“My, my, my… the hour is nigh,” Fritz sighed, a mixture of excitement and knowing glimmering in his eyes.

Wick had watched both fights ensue with an oddly pensive attitude. There was neither fear nor compassion in her gaze, but excitement and enjoyment had flickered away as well. Instead, it was a contemplative expression that alighted her features, evaporating only when the second round ended and their own names had been called. At the corner of her mouth, a smile formed, and at Fritz’s words, she canted her head towards River, “...Nigh indeed. Little Puddle… are you ready? Take a deep breath… it’s time to play.” Turning away again, she gestured to the weapon selection, “...I think the Blazer is a fine choice for our timid friend, would you agree, my darling?”

The aftermath of the fights had left River in a stunned silence. He stood in shook, eyes bleary and wet, head and heart pounding. Hana… Luca…. Chloe, Bah… the fear that engulfed him was so suffocating River almost thought he couldn’t breathe. And now he was about to step into the lion's den with two terrifying teammates, people who saw him as nothing more than a toy. His gaze followed the prisoners who were being whisked away to the infirmary, a silent cry on his lips, broken out of his spell by Wick and Fritz’s coddling words. Dipped in venom and hidden in lace. Deep breath? Take a deep breath? What good would it do? It wouldn’t save him… wouldn’t save them…

But at the mention of the Blazer his eyes only widened further, and he shook his head desperately, taking a step back, shivering head to toe, mumbling soft pleas beneath his breath.

Fritz took note of the horror suddenly flooding River (oh… he was so brilliantly punny, it was uncanny!) and couldn’t help but smirk a tad wider. His eyes took on the disguise of comfort and concern, and with a cooing hush, looped his other arm around the boy’s shoulders. “No need for cold feet, dear River,” he said, gently guiding his team towards the shelf of weapons, “We are a team, after all. No harm shall come our way as long as we work… together.”

Upon saying together, Fritz had plucked a Blazer from the selection and shoved it into River’s hands, cupping the back of his head to give it a reassuring pat. Then, his gaze rolled over to Wick. “Darling, do you have a weapon particularly speaking to you?”

“Mm…” With a nod, Wick gestured to the slingshot, tucked away on the shelf, but her eyes weren’t on the weapon, they were on River, and a brow raised as she studied him, “...You’re friends with them, right? The pretty blonde creature, right? Chutney… or… Courtney… Oh, Chloe. Chloe… right? And the walking Mountain Range. The Virgin? I imagine it was probably difficult to watch them lose, yes?”

A noise of shock fell out of River at Fritz’s touch, and there was a moment when he tried to squirm away, but it died the moment the Blazer was placed in his hands, his posture going slack, eyes glazed over. The tremble lessened, though was still present, and he looked up at Wick, tears streaming down his face despite a totally numb expression. There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes that didn’t reach the rest of his face, and he gripped the Blazer tightly.

“Them?” He whispered. “Do I kill them?”

“Difficult for him, perhaps,” Fritz said, lips pursed in thought, “But more enjoyable for others, if I’m allowed to toss in my two cents on the matter. And excellent choice, darling.” However, with his hand still attached to River, it was impossible to miss the lack of shaking in his form, the sudden relaxing of his muscles. Or was he still tense? Maybe both. He eyed the boy’s grip around his weapon before slowly dropping his hand. “No need to jump to such morbid conclusions, dear River. We’d never force you to do such a thing, hm? Well, unless we say otherwise.”

He raised a single finger, as if chastising a child. “Just know that they are our enemies,” he pointed to the opposing team, who were also skimming the shelf for their weapon choice. Aside from Jumbo, who just stood and stared until Bungee shoved a pair of gloves into his hands. Fritz then waved that same finger between the three of them. “And we are allies. Simple and clean.”

“...Fritz is right, sweetie. I would ever ask you to hurt your friends.” Leaning closer, she patted his cheek with her palm, her smile still present, unshaking… despite the edge of coolness to her gaze, “...But if you fail today, to perform to the best of your abilities… To do what I know you can do, River… Fritz and I? We may just hurt them, ourselves. Allies. Remember that. Are we ready, then?”

River followed Fritz’s instruction with an intensity unseen previously. He nodded slowly, knuckles now turning white against the Blazer, lips pursed. As Wick stepped forward and cupped his cheek, he made no attempt to back away, limp in her grasp. “I will not fail.” He said firmly, even though the tears never slowed or stopped. “Ready.”

There were many ways, an endless array, in which Wick managed to deepen Fritz’s infatuation of her. In that moment, she had added yet another one to that list. The man’s chest threatened to swell and spill over with pride. No, pride would be a sentiment reserved for an understudy or student. This… this feeling was nothing short of worship for his queen. At Wick’s question, he glanced over at the other team. One last time. For a fraction of a moment, his eyes lingered on Jumbo and a wave of glee fluttered through his lungs.

“Yes… we are indeed ready.” He patted River on the back of his skull one last time. Supportive. Expectant… Perhaps suspicious. But Fritz was always suspicious. Always. He chose the Diplo-Vision Bombs, strapping them to his waist belt and accepting the vest from the guards. He stepped into the ascension pods shortly after Wick and River, pressing a reassuring kiss to the former’s temple beforehand.

Standing in the pod opposite of his own was Jumbo. He looked as confused and far off as always, gazing down at his gloved hands.

“Countdown to Dog Fights will being in 10… 9… 8…”

Fritz no longer felt the need to fight off a smirk.

“7… 6… 5…”

He was the King of Hagur, after all. And as a king, he plotted and navigated the battlefield as he saw fit.

“4… 3… 2…”

“Dear Wyatt…” His fingers pressed against the glass, something maniacal glimmering in his eyes. “Don’t let me down now.”


The Tributes flickered out of existence.

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Year: 2813
Location: Hagur-343 | Round One Simulator
Time: 7:00 PM | Dog Fights

Shifting. Shifting. Shift--

Jerking. Spinning. Every which way. Every which degree of every which angel decipherable beyond the human mind could imagine--

Floating. Stopping…

Dropping to dusty tiles.

Bungee uttered a sharp curse as his body smacked to the floor, bile rushing up his esophagus before he could squeeze in a single thought. Just as it waded against the back of his teeth, he growled again and swallowed it back down, staggering to his feet. “Fuck… Fuck! Fucking space time of the travels and Star Trek bullshit!” he growled, eyes squinted and taking in his surroundings.

Annoyed. Always so annoyed. Especially after what he had seen in the first fight--

“Pipe the fuck down, monkey,” a voice hissed from behind, far gruffer and quiet than Bungee’s. The man turned to bare teeth at Buck, more than ready to kill off his own teammate before moving on to that crazy bitch and her servants. However, just as he was about to unleash verbal Hell, the stout man pressed a finger over his lips and interrupted, “The echo, dumbass.” Then he to his left, gesturing to a single door that probably lead further downstairs. To their left was what appeared to be an ancient staircase spiraling up to a curved hall, a single door embedded in the wall above. “They’ll hear us.”

Bungee’s nostrils flared, but upon realizing their environment, his jaw couldn’t help but clench in begrudging agreement. This place was massive. Classy. Insanely so. He figured the simulator had adopted some sort of Victorian castle apparel. Tall glass-stained windows stretching yards high, before the rim of the ceiling cut them off and arched into a wide dome. Top floor. Unless there was something else awaiting them in the door up above.

Gnashing his teeth, he ignored Buck and strode over to Jumbo. The large man was curled into a ball and hiding his face against the floor, trying to quell the nausea. Holding in a sigh, Bungee gave his back a few pats. Awkward, but they would do. “Up now, Jumbo. We have to do the moving quickly.” With a grunt, he adjusted the CWE and rested it on his shoulder, somewhat regretting the weight issue that came with his decision. However, from what he had seen of previous fights, it was one Hell of a handy weapon.

Buck fussed with his Bo Staff, not entirely sure how to switch on the shield. He already had a decent idea of how to collapse it into twin batons, but that was about it. He approached the door he had pointed out earlier, hand falling to the handle. “No use in waitin’. Keep quiet ‘n outta my way, got it?”

Bungee glared at the ex-clan member’s back. It took a calming inhale and the restraint of a Saint, but he managed to hold his tongue and merely nod, dragging Jumbo onto his feet. Grabbing the cannibal by the collar, he drew him in to whisper, “You stick the close to me, understand? Nod if you do.”

Jumbo nodded.

With that, they descended. Slowly. As stealthily as they could.


“Dear Lord that is horrific transportation,” Fritz groaned as he sat back on his knees, hands rested before him and head lowered as he focused on regaining equilibrium. Awful. Terrible. He would have a chat with someone after this. Once he was certain that he could stand without painting the floor with his lunch, he made his way over to Wick, helping the woman up gingerly. “Are you alright, Love?” As he waited for a response from the others, he looked around them and instantly felt as if his body was shoved into a catapult and rocketed back in time. A castle. Royalty. Ancient, yet charmingly so.

He, Wick and River all rested in the center of a four-way platform. The front descended downstairs to an open lobby, a door bolted shut rested behind them, and twin stairs leading up rested on their left and right. He couldn't quite tell where those stairs lead up to but it didn't seem as if the space beyond that was much to begin with. Perhaps a hallway? No matter the format of this place, Fritz just knew one thing.

They needed to win and get out of this godforsaken simulator--swiftly.

Tags: CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , and KatSea KatSea

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Six Idiots Walk Into a Bar, Part I | Interactions: Fritz, Wick Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , River CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Bungee, Buck, and Jumbo

It took a good thirty seconds for River to even begin pulling himself up off the floor. The blazer in one hand, using the other to steady himself, River looked around, waiting for the blur in his eyes to fade. The taste of vomit still fresh in his tongue, the young boy weighed the weapon in his hand, trying to will the stomped on parts of him to drop it. But he couldn’t… he knew he couldn’t. He glanced to Wick and Fritz; allies. The others… enemies.

He knew what he was supposed to do.

River moved forward, expression slack, weapon raised with an expert stance.

Eyes glittering as she looked around the lavish surroundings, Wicker looked less like a woman who had just been roughly deposited by transport into a simulator, and more like Orphan Annie, first entering Daddy Warbuck’s mansion. Her gaze wide, slightly awestruck, she barely registered Fritz’s question, and only when he’d approached did she turn to him, her voice slightly breathless, “...Magnificent, Sparky. Puddle, you all pulled together?”

Fritz was initially taken aback by the pure delight flooding Wick’s features, before a smile of his own crept upon his features, though it was marginally smaller than hers. Her reaction to the hellish trip wasn’t expected, but… it was damn adorable. Helping her up to her feet, her placed one hand over a bomb attached to his hip and quirked an eyebrow at River. “Dear River? Stick with us now, you’re aware of the plan.”

However, when he didn’t get an immediate response, the man took a step towards him, his voice a tad more stern. “River--”


The sound, singular, sharp, echoed throughout the entire castle. Fritz froze in place, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pinpoint where it came from. He raised his other hand, signaling everyone to remain quiet.

There was barely any response from River to both utterances of his name. He continued to creep towards the nearest exit, blazer pointed ahead of him, until the thunk sounded. It seemed to jolt River somewhat, and his stoic expression flickered momentarily before resuming, though he did pause in place, breathing heavily through his nose, trying to place the origin of the sound, teeth gnashing beneath watery eyes.

Irritation burned, if only momentarily, as River’s glazed expression did not shift, even as he’d risen from the floor and Fritz called to him. Less than two minutes in, and already, he would need a reminder, if seemed…

But before she could open her mouth to tell him to pull himself together, the sound resonated through the room, she froze, looking to Fritz with a frown.

Fritz had caught the look from Wick and did his best to nod in reassurance, holding her gaze just long enough to send the message silently. At the most, they were facing against a band of buffoons, one of them forever loyal to him. A dog never betrayed his master.

Footsteps. Out of sync with River’s.

They moved slowly, yet grew in volume. Grew closer. To their right.

Fritz unhinged one of bombs and placed a hand on the dial, prepared to chuck it at a moment’s notice as he drew near Wick.

More footsteps. Closer. Closer…

The oversized, trembling form of Jumbo appeared around the corner, his gloved hands raised in a surrendering gesture. His wide eyes instantly locked with the ginger’s and instantly, faster than an inhale, Fritz knew that something was wrong. It was a brief twitch of the gaze. Jumbo’s eyes snapped to the side, over and over, rapidly, as if trying frantically to tell him something.

“Dear Jumbo,” Fritz warned, “Stand down.”

Jumbo whimpered. “B… Bo…”

Then it hit Fritz’s ears. A faint… ticking noise.


“Get down!” Fritz yelled as he looped both arms around Wick’s waist and dashed down the steps--


A concussive wave shattered the door behind them, sending massive chunks of concrete and plaster flying and knocking the pair off their feet, meeting the lobby tiles hard enough to knock air from their lungs.

River couldn’t help the lack of sensitivity to the very real threats that Fritz and Wick posed. The buried part of him knew that if he didn’t stick by their side like a little puppy, they’d show him no mercy, but the part that had been trained, forced into submission, knew better than to go against the grain. The weapon in his hand served as a reminder, and he’d been told who the targets were. If he didn’t carry through… Dante would make him know suffering like no other. Nevermind the fact that Dante was a million light years away on earth.

Jumbo appeared, and River raised the blazer, waiting for that perfect shot. “Right between the eyes…” He whispered, knowing if it landed anywhere else, Dante would make him do it over and over and over…

Lost in the swirling grasp of his own fear, River barely rushed for cover, blown far back when the bomb erupted, landing hard on his back with a grunt. His grip on his weapon was so tight that it never left his grasp, even if his vision blurred for the second time in those few minutes, after his head collided with the shining tile floors. Despite everything, he attempted to stand again, blood trickling down his forehead, eyes still burning bright.

Explosions were no fun when there was no fire. The doors burst inward and something inside Wick’s chest felt as if it had burst, as well. She hit the floor and the breath left her body for a moment, the wrong kind of sparks filling her vision. Squeezing her eyes shut, she grimaced. Already, she was ready to shoot an ice bolt at someone’s crotch...

With a groan, she opened her eyes again, looking to Fritz, “God damn… that man needs to hurt.”

A wild cheer boomed down the staircase opposite of the one Jumbo had recently been on as Buck emerged into the fray, his Bo staff split into two batons as her raced down the steps. Knock one out while they were down. Simple enough. And the best target would be that whiny brat with the non-stop crying disorder. “Come out and play, lil shit!” he yelled as he squinted through the thin clouds of lingering debris. Damn, he kind of wished he had taken up the CWE now instead of that loud-mouthed monkey, but he could made do with what he had. Batons raised, he continued to descend the steps.

Fritz grit his teeth, fury overshadowing the annoyance and ache gently beating against his spine. The audacity of these low-life, mouth breathing heathens. He could hear one of them hooting and hollering in premature celebration, and wished for nothing more than to have his fat piglet head severed and roasted over a spit. The perfect meal for Jumbo, although, with the way that giant moron failed to properly warn him of the explosion, he doubt he’d feed the cannibal anytime soon.

The ginger stood with a wince while helping Wick up. He couldn’t hear any signs of the other two… which meant they must’ve fled back into that hallway or somewhere else entirely. The damned cowards. “Come, Love. We’ll make them more than hurt.” His eyes darkened with broiling anger. “We’ll make them suffer.”

Get up. Get up, get up, get up. He was tired. River just wanted to lay down… to sink into the floor and never return. But the only way he knew how to make it stop was to pull the trigger, and he couldn’t linger… he had to win. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood that dripped from a cut above his eye, head raising to search for the voice that shouted out to him. Presumably, he was the little shit.

“Right between the eyes. Right between the eyes.” River whispered, teeth gritted, taking his mark and firing at the oaf of a man who felt confident enough to stand with his chest puffed in broad daylight.

If Wick had been in any way uncertain about the man she’d chosen to stand beside her, in the moments following the vicious explosion, as he rose and helped her upright, as his words of violent encouragement reached beyond the ringing in her ears, any lingering doubt was blown away like the door moments before, and a smooth smile formed, as she nodded. Silently, picking up and shouldering her weapon she gestured to the stairs, still slightly shrouded in smoke, pointing upwards with her finger.

A curse just barely escaped Buck’s lips as his eyes landed on River and Blazer aimed at him. Air catching in his lungs, the lumberjack of a prisoner was helpless as he watched a ball of electricity nail him dead in the chest and rip through his system. A gurgle of pain rumbled in the back of his throat as he seized up like a board of wood and fell back, his skull meeting the steps with a fleshy thud.

Fritz couldn’t see much from the smoke, but he did take note of the stray lightning strike launching from River’s general direction, followed by Buck’s groan of pain. Any other time, he would’ve blinked in surprise, perhaps even impressed, but his mind was locked onto one goal and one goal only.

Slaughter the son of a bitch with the CWE.

His eyes followed Wick’s finger, realizing what she meant before scaling up the steps with her in tow, sticking close to the rails and ducking into the smoke for stealth. He knew that no one was present around the platform itself, but he had no idea what rested beyond the busted door. Fritz crept up to it, stepping over piles of rubble and cement as he tried to peer through--

A hand lashed out for his wrist. On instinct, he retaliated with a punch smacking into the assailant’s face, but as soon as he heard the confused grunt, he knew he had struck Jumbo. The cannibal stumbled back and fell onto his haunches, cradling his face. For the second time, Fritz made him bleed. Well, the second time in that same week.

“Confounded, Jumbo!” With a huff, he hauled the man up by the back of his vest and slammed a hand to this chest, demanding his attention. “You stay with us and protect her,” he pointed to Wick, “With your shield.” Then his nails jammed into the crook of Jumbo’s jaw, drawing him terrifyingly close. “A single hair out of place upon my queen’s head… and I’ll have yours. Understood?”

“U-uh! U… under… understooo--” He yelped as Fritz released him, rubbing his sore chin while looking at Wick uncertainly.

Fritz nodded towards the entrance leading upstairs. “Up we go, darling. I doubt they can run for much longer.”

The ball of electricity hit Buck, but not where it was supposed too. River’s expression remained unchanged as he stepped forward, watching the oaf collapse and convulse on the ground. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t good enough.

”She’s already dead!” River sobbed, shaking his head furiously. “Please!”

“You don’t understand,
hermano.” Dante hissed, grabbing him by the collar, spitting in his face. “I want it between the eyes. If it’s not, you try again. You try again until you get it right. I don’t want anything less. Right. Between. The. Eyes.”

He forced one foot in front of the other. Forced himself to stand above Buck’s body. And pointed the Blazer right in that sweet little space between the eyes, just like Dante wanted.

As she lowered her finger, Wick’s eyes shifted from Fritz and the stairwell to what was happening a little ways away. A brow raised just slightly, and her expression was one, difficult to read, but bordering on what might have been, were she anyone but who she was, concern, “...Seems our Little Prince can play.” She mused.

At Fritz’s sudden reaction, she spun and raised the slingshot, but seeing the large puppy where she’d expected a threat, her posture eased and she looked between Jumbo and his master with a small shrug, “Up, then.”

Tremors still wracked Buck’s form as River towered over him. His pupils could barely focus and yet, as soon as the hollow barrel of a Blazer lined up with his face, a curtain of coldness draped his nerves from head to toe. Veins bulging in his neck, lips peeled back to flash a twisted snarl, and painfully rigid fingers twitched ruthlessly against the tenseness overrunning his muscles. He refused.

He absolutely fucking refused to feel fear. Not because of this pipsqueak.

But it showed in his bloodshot eyes, even as the defiance rolled off his lips like words tossed into the shredder. “Y-you wo… w-won’t shoot me… f-fucking k-...” He gave a violent jerk, but his efforts proved to be fruitless as he flopped back down, eyes still locked with River’s.

Fritz manned the front with Wick right behind him and Jumbo in the back, carefully scaling the steps. It was a significantly dark stairwell, only lit by a few rays stretching from the opening up ahead. Artificial lighting. A lamp of some sort, Fritz guessed, but that hardly mattered. However, for the briefest moment, he thought he saw the rays… move. Turn? He wasn’t quite sure. Either way, he pushed forward and palmed the door. It was only open somewhat, so he pushed it open fully, brain on high alert as his gaze scoured the area--


A bone-rattling hit struck Fritz in the back of his skull and he tumbled, just barely holding onto a string of consciousness as his brain tried to comprehend what just happened. He could feel the warmth of blood running down the back of his neck and tiny pieces of… something scattering the floor under him.

Bungee tossed aside what was left of the lamp and immediately hefted up his CWE, sprinting up the stairwell and ducking behind the rails for cover as he went.

River did give pause. It was a quaking, trembling one; he was not a terrifying sight, save for the Blazer pointed directly at Buck’s head. Crying, bleeding, shaking, but for all intents and purposes, dead set on his mark. His eyes shone nothing but ache behind the glaze of determination. “Right between the eyes.” River echoed, for what felt like the millionth time, though truly, he meant to apologize to Buck. For what he was about to do.

River pulled the trigger.

There was a point in her life, when Wick had snapped. That’s what they’d called it, at least. The therapists who had visited with her, after she’d gunned down her lover and his wife and torched their cozy home. She didn’t remember the feeling, or even, really, recall what had happened. In the aftermath, she possessed a vague recollection of anger… betrayal… sadness. But none of what had actually occurred. The only reason she even knew what she’d done was because they’d told her about it.

In the moment the lamp struck the back of Fritz’s head, and she watched him stagger, red on red in ugly contrast, Wick’s mind once more severed ties with reason and judgment, and fueled, she reached for the pellets on her belt, loading the slingshot with hands as steady as a heart surgeon. Loaded… aimed…

“Run, run… fast as you can.” She whispered, as she leveled the gun at the fleeing man’s lower half, before she fired. In her hand, there was already a second pellet, and moving up several steps, she had it loaded, ready, in case.

Jumbo flinched as everything happened at once, his head spinning in steadily rising confusion and frustration. His master was down and hurt. The girl he was told to protect was going the opposite way. What was he supposed to do? Stay and help Fritz or go with Wick? Breathing shallow and tinged in panic, he knelt over the ginger, unsure of what to do with his hands. Would the gloves do something bad if he touched him? He wasn’t even sure how to activate them. “Maaa-mast, m-master?” he said, lowering to hear Fritz more clearly as he muttered out a slurred response.

But then the ginger was yanking him down by the collar. Eyes unfocused, he hissed in Jumbo’s ear. “Protect. Her.”

“Uh! O-o.. okay!” Nodding numbly, the cannibal scrambled after Wick and ran clumsily up the steps behind her, fretting with his gloves as he tried to figure out how to turn them on.


Bungee’s pained scream echoed throughout the room as a pellet nailed him in the back of his thigh. The frost spread rapidly, freezing over the flesh in his leg and igniting a stinging burn within his senses. Gritting his teeth, the man limped up the last few steps and hobbled around to the door head. Eyes kindling with determination to win--to live-- he yanked it open and started bolting inside.

White light exploded behind Buck’s eyes as another bolt of energy smacked into his skull. Bolts vibrated through every single neuron in his brain, doubling the quivers until his form was borderline seizing, a series of agonized grunts escaping his tight lips. His body arched from the overload to his system. Five more seconds of suffering and gurgling on his own tongue.

Then the corpse flopped. Unmoving. Wrapped in the cold clutches of death.

Buck’s body flickered from existence.

Death was a very familiar image to River at this point in his life. Even still, it did not stop the snot that dribbled from his nose, the tears that blurred his vision. Whoever this man had been, River cried over the loss of his life just as he had done many others. But the job was not done yet. Staring at the empty space where Buck’s body had once convulsed just a moment longer, River turned away. Two more to go.

He spun on his heel and turned back towards the commotion. Fritz had clearly stated the enemies, had placed the gun in his hand. River knew the opposing team, and just one of those members seemed to be trailing behind Wick. Without so much as a word, River aimed at Jumbo, despite the very risky shot, and fired.

Tags: KatSea KatSea


consistently inconsistent
Invitation Status
, , , ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Online Availability
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, No Preferences
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Six Idiots Walk Into A Bar
Pt II with Elle Joyner Elle Joyner and Mobley Eats Mobley Eats

The second shot was loaded, angled at the man sprinting… limping wildly for the door, fury burning as her finger twitched over the trigger. But the sound behind her gave her brief pause… Jumbo. Damn Jumbo… and damn whatever force of hell was coming after them. Spinning, without a second thought, without so much as a glance, Wick fired… fired the bolt at the figure rushing up behind Jumbo.

Without waiting to see the damage, the third pellet was in her hand and meeting the slingshot, as she spun back around and raced after the intended victim.

Jumbo yelped as electricity struck him square in the back. A wave of numbness crashed over his limbs, before the pain came in a flash of white. He collapsed onto the steps, curling into himself tightly as the tremors ensued.

Meanwhile, Fritz struggled onto his hands and knees, the world still doubling as he tried to shake off the dizziness. A heinous pressure pounded against his skull, perfectly in sync with his rapid heartbeat. “Damned third world dolt is dead,” he growled. First, Bungee had the audacity to put his queen in danger and now he had blemished his cranium--with a household item, of all things! Degrading. Damn degrading. Grumbling under his breath, he just barely caught sight of River speeding past him and up the steps, unloading an attack on Jumbo.

The ginger paled. He jogged towards the boy, his steps still infected with a sway. “S-stop! Stop!”

As soon as Wick turned around, Bungee had already slammed the door shut. There was a brief pause, followed by a distant thud!

Then, nothing.

River was already taking precaution to aim again when the bolt of ice ripped his way, hitting him in the forearm and causing ice to spread down to his hand. A startled cry fell out of him, and the Blazer fell from his hands. The unmoving stoic expression that River had worn for the entirety of the fight disappeared as the world flooded back to him. He cradled his arm with shuddering gasps of terror, leaning against the railing, trying to focus in on what was happening. Jumbo on the floor, Wick racing away. Wick… had shot him? He’d… killed…

Overcome with emotion, River sunk to the floor, paralyzed by his actions, hiccuping. Wick seemed capable enough to handle the rest.

The door slammed after Bungee, but Wick wasn’t done. With the threat behind her dealt with, she edged towards the door. Her mind was still wrapped fairly thoroughly on the anger pulsing through her, but anger was clarifying, and rushing into the room with a determined man carrying a concussive weapon. Touching the knob, she gave it a delicate twist and gingerly, let the door swing open before she stepped through. The dim light of the moon shown over the ruined floorboards, and silently thanking any force that would listen that she hadn’t barged in with reckless abandon, she reached into her pouch for more pellets, palming them. Moving along the edge of the room, her eyes searched…

“Count one to ten… without a peek… You go hide, and then I seek.” One by one, Wick let the pellets drop, listening as they fell, trying to gauge the distance from her floor, to the one below, “...Come out and play, Bungee…”

Fuck the you, crazy bitch! Go play with yourself! Bungee thought as he remained in his hiding spot. He had jumped down into the ruined interior of the floors and crouched down in a corner filled with dust and cobwebs. He prayed to Sky Father that wasn’t a spider he saw crawling across the top of his shoe.

He tensed when a delicate thud rang out, followed by a brief puff of air as the frozen contents expelled from Wick’s pellet. What the hell was she even doing? No matter. Even then, he know had a general idea as to where she was. Glancing up at the riggedy wood above him, the man crept slowly forward, listening out for her footsteps.

Fritz stood over River and Jumbo, huffing as his agitation reached an all-time high. He had no clue why the boy had fired at his pet cannibal like that, but he didn’t have the time to ask questions. He’d interrogate him after they won. “Up! Both of you!” He gave a solid slap to the back of Jumbo’s head, who violently flinched and whimpered from the hit, before forcing himself to sit up through the painful quakes. On the other hand, Fritz wrapped a firm hand around River’s arm, trying to pull him up. “Dear River, I understand that you’re suffering emotional turmoil of some sort.” His voice carried a heavily sarcastic sweetness to it. “But perhaps save the tears for a more convenient time?”

“No no no no no no…” River whispered, pleading almost voicelessly as Fritz stepped towards him, attempting to shy away from the man’s outstretched hand, but it was too late. A shrill cry fell out of the boy as his injured arm was yanked, and the tears continued to fall despite Fritz’s request. “L-l-let g-g-go,” River whimpered, sniffing harshly, trying to stop his crying, but it was especially hard when someone was grabbing the icy burn climbing up his flesh.

“Where'd you go… where'd you hide. You're not in any place I've tried. I look over here and over there… up and…” With a small curve of her lip, Wick froze in place, eyes drifting downward, “Clever mouse.”

Crouching, she shifted carefully forward, and hands braced on two support beams, Wick slid down into the space below.

Fritz had to use every ounce of willpower not to roll his eyes as River shrieked. Beforehand, he had all the patience in the world but as of right now, he had a bleeding gash in his head, his queen was currently facing off against Bungee without proper protection, and Jumbo was being an useless idiot. Fritz switched his hold to clutching the back of River’s vest with both hands and started dragging him upstairs. “Jumbo! Come!” he yelled over his shoulder.

Jumbo shivered as another linger round of trembles rocked his frame. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And as his slow mind realized the hurt was brought on by the shiny thing that was previously in River’s grasp, yet another chill coated his spine. This one originating from fear. Why were so many shiny things causing him so much hurt? He didn’t understand it. Or like it, at all.

However, what he hated even more was being yelled at, and Fritz’s tone was nothing short of explosive. Wincing, he ignored the aches filling his body the best he could while climbing up the rest of way behind the ginger and River.

As soon as Wick’s feet hit the floorboards, Bungee pounced.

With a cry bursting from his lungs, he sprinted and tackled her from behind, wrestling to top position while trying to wrangle the weapon free of her hands.

It occured to River as lucidity returned to him, that Dante was not here. His hold still lingered in his mind, but not now, not in this moment, not when he was being dragged up the stairs by Fritz. He wanted this stupid fight to end, and he knew how to end it.

With a grunt and a sharp movement, River twisted out of Fritz’s grasp, the tick in hand, diving for Jumbo.

At the cry, Wick had twisted, fast, but not fast enough. Bungee barreled into her and Wick went down, his weight crushing her to the floor as he struggled for the gun. Wicker didn't fight for the weapon, but instead, swinging her hand up, smacked the remaining pellet she had clasped in her hand to the man's neck.

As she did, a cry wrenched from her, not entirely devoid of fear, “Fritz!!”

Fritz had underestimate how slippery River could be and barely had a chance to process what happened as he wrenched free of his grasp. He spun around, a growl of pure contempt rumbling in the back of his throat as frustration bubbled to the surface. This child was damn maddening to handle. “What in Sam hell are you doing?!”

Jumbo’s eyes widened beyond compare as the boy lunged after him and like primal instinct, fear forced his hands up to guard himself. Not another hurt! Anything but that!

But then there was a sharp whirring sound, and the shield from his gloves formed in front of him. He blinked, momentarily drawn to the beautiful display and lightshow, his jaw going slack with a low, “Ohhhh…”

Then he remembered where he was.

Scary boy. Coming after him. Right now.

“Ahhh!!” He turned on his heel and ran.

“Fucking--That’s it! I’m done with this numbskull! Both of them!” Fritz almost yanked out his own hair, though he’d much rather envision his fingers around River and Jumbo’s throats. Useless. So damn useless--


His blood ran cold.

That was Wick. Utterly. Entirely. Screaming for him. Fear in her voice.

He took off towards the noise like a loaded bullet. Clearing the distance to the door in record time, he barely gave pause as the gaping hole came into view and jumped down, rolling forward as his feet collided into wood and whipping around frantically. It was dark. Really dark. But the sound of struggling and a male’s pained yelp was easy enough to pinpoint.

And then he saw it. So faint. Just barely there. The obscured silhouettes of two bodies, a larger one on top of the other…

Hackles rising. Blood boiling. Vision doused in red. Breathing plumes of fire. No words could describe the rage burning Fritz’s veins inside out as he shot forward and smashed into Bungee with an enraged yell, knocking the wind out of the man. He secured both hands around Bungee’s throat, not even budging as nails jabbed and scratched viciously at his visage. “You son of a bitch!” he spat, voice oozing pure venom and a promise of pain.

River was very much aware of the wrath he was likely going to face when the fight ended. Fritz was probably going to have his head for being a ’macoso estupido’ as his brother often put it, but he was a little too overwhelmed by everything that had just happened to clearly think. And the one thing he was clearly thinking about was that he was very much ready to curl up in his tiny cell bed and cry. With Fritz’s attention pulled at the cry of his psycho lover, River knew the game was almost finished. The horrible, stupid, tiring game. And that meant ticking Jumbo.

River watched the man run away shrieking with tired eyes. Tired, red eyes, slumped shoulders and an arm he held curled close to his chest. He thought for a moment, what the others would think. Those that had kept him close in the short time he’d been here, protected him, thought him too weak to protect himself. Would Luca, Chloe, and Bah all shun him? Would Hana turn her back? This was the only place he had known any feeling of happiness. And it had all been squashed at the hands of someone seeking entertainment. River felt cheated out of his life, out of everything.

“J-jumbo,” He called, voice cracking, hands raised. “I… can send you back. Okay? If I p-put this on your v-vest, y-you g-get to stop r-running.”

As Bungee's weight evacuated her chest and stomach, air rushed into Wick's lungs with a choking gasp and rolling over, she wheezed in a breath, clutching her hand close where the pain of the burst ice capsule splintered through her fingers and along her wrist.

Maddeningly, she tipped upwards, and squinting through the darkness, her gaze moved to where Fritz and Bungee had wound up.

He'd come. She called for him and he'd come.

In her mind she was transported through one dark room to another. The bruises were already forming, the lash of the belt buckle leaving great, stinging welts and a gash above her left brow that was sure to sting. Every strike had been punctuated by a firm reminder… she was a disgusting, dirty, vile slut… useless, worthless child… and she would never see Ilan again. She had crawled to the basement window… her legs hurt, and it had taken nearly half an hour, but she'd made it, and when her parents left for work that morning, she'd pulled herself up, forced a gap in the window's seal and she screamed for him. She screamed and screamed and screamed.

But Ilan never came. Not then. Not after. Two weeks passed and the beatings finally stopped registering, even when he'd resorted to using things beside the belt… and the empty hollow weight of starvation filled her stomach and love gave birth to other emotions. Hurt and jealousy and rage. Violence was the name of the creature she bore and she lashed out… Because he'd seen. He'd heard her. But her knight in shining armor had stayed home to be with his wife. He left Wick to face the dragon alone.

Not Fritz, though. No. He came. And he was magnificent. Her eyes glittered with dampness as she watched, almost childlike, watched as his grip around the man's neck tightened and the anger forged in him a new fire.

But it was no good. They had another round and they couldn't make it too easy or their subjects would never rise and fight for them… They were monarchs, after all, not dictators.

Pushing herself up, she half crawled to Fritz's side, fingers curling around his arm, “A king with no one left to rule, my love?” She asked, with no small tremble of tenderness behind it.

Jumbo had found a corner to huddle himself against, using the shield to close him off completely from River while peeking between the gaps of his fingers. He refused to hurt, not again. He couldn’t hear or understand much beyond the panic pounding against his ears, but he did catch a few words. Send back. Stop running.


That was all he wanted right now--for this fight to stop. For him being here to stop, because if he stayed for much longer, then he would have to… to… He didn’t want to. He sunk even more into the corner, but a hint of something hopeful leaked into his tone. “I, I caaaa… c-can stop?” he asked cautiously.

Fritz’s grip doubled with every second passing. He could feel the pressure threatening to snap Bungee’s airway, his dark eyes rolling into the back of his skull. The ginger couldn’t see much. It was so dark. But not a single moment of Bungee’s suffering escaped his gaze. Nothing beyond the dimensions of Heaven and Hell could rip his attention, his very being, away from strangling this man to death.

Except for the touch on his arm. The hand belonging to his queen. The sensation had slackened his grip, but it was her voice, this time absent of that fear, which had slowly pried his fingers free of Bungee’s throat…

To palm the man’s face and violently slam his head to the floor. A solid smack echoed throughout the space, instantly knocking him unconscious. “As always,” Fritz whispered, breathless, “You are right, my queen.” He turned to her, the maliciousness draining from his system as quickly as it came. “Did he harm you?”

River kept a safe distance, dragging the back of his hand across his cheek to wipe away the blood mixed with tears. “Sí. Yes. Y-you can stop. I want t-to stop too. I just p-put this on your v-vest, and you c-can stop. Okay? No more p-pain. I’m s-sorry I hurt you.” River held the tick in his palm, as non threatening as possible. Guilt climbed up his stomach and rested in his throat as hot as bile. Seeing Jumbo quiver before him was awful, and he wanted to end it now more than ever.

There was no sense of gratefulness, as Fritz's hands unwound from the man's throat. Truth be told, she would not have cared much at all if he'd finished the job, but she was relieved, nevertheless that it was nearly over… And they were one step closer. One step closer to victory.

Holding up her ice-bruised arm, she frowned softly, “Nothing I can't handle, darling…” Looking at him, sorry for the dim lighting that stole the color and drained his features, she cupped his chin with her uninjured hand and gingerly, leaned in to press her lips to the corner of his, “You came. You… when I called. You came.”

Jumbo eyed the chip in River’s hand unsurely, most of the quivering having eased from his body. At first, it seemed as if he was going to drop the shield, only to hesitate. A moment. Several more. Then, finally, he dropped it and leaning forward on his knees, reached out slowly for it. As he did, his eyes locked pleadingly with River’s. “H… he… helllp me,” he whispered.

The muscles in Fritz’s body relaxed even further as she pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, only to tense once more as he took in the condition of her arm. That son of a bitch… He’d be sure to make Bungee suffer horribly for this. He’d attacked the wrong one and soon, he would pay a hefty price--Fritz promised this. Regardless, he cupped the back of Wick’s neck and pressed his forehead to hers, looking intensely into her eyes. “Of course I did… As my queen, I will never allow you to face strife, nor pain,” his eyes darkened, “For as long as I breathe.”

At Jumbo’s plea, River’s heart sank, mouth opening and then closing, wholly unsure of what to say. He was frozen for a moment, even though Jumbo was reaching for the tick, as River tried to understand just how horribly Jumbo had to be suffering. “I’m s-sorry.” He whispered, eyes glistening. “I.. I will try. I promise you… I will try.” With a shuddering gasp, a shiver that climbed all the way up his spine, River gently placed the tick on Jumbo’s vest.

Lip twitching down as he leaned in, Wick let her eyes fall closed, and without meaning to, she allowed a tear to slip free. As she reached up swiftly to brush it away, her eyes snapped open again, and she nodded, “...Your loyalty will be well rewarded, my darling…” Reaching for a tick, she held it out to Fritz with a nod, “...Do the honors?”

Something akin to relief washed over Jumbo, falling frozen as he let the boy near him with the tick. Just before it was attached, the cannibal muttered, “T… tank yo--”

He flickered back to Hagur.

Fritz had seen the tear fall. It would be impossible to miss with his face so close to Wick’s, but he had the grace, the bittersweet understanding, to overlook it as she wiped it away. Thumb swiping gently over her cheek, right where the tear used to be, he accepted the tick and pulled away. “I would be… beyond honored.”

He rolled Bungee over and without further preamble, ticked him.

The man flickered.

A pause coated in silence.

Then the trio flickered back as well.

As the gurneys were readied and they were ushered towards them, the mask of indifference had returned to Wicker’s face, but glancing towards the other member of their trio, the corner of her lip twitched upwards and she nodded, “...Well done, Cameron. Well done.”

It wasn’t until the gurney had begun to move that it occurred to her what she had said, and fingernails ground into her palms and she swore softly under her breath.
  • Love
Reactions: KatSea

Elle Joyner

Invitation Status
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Luca sat on the end of the hospital bed, his head resting in his hands as he pressed the butt of his palms harder against his eye sockets. The headache had subsided, but he was almost sorry for the loss of the distraction. The pain in his head had been sharp and clarifying. Now he felt only the fog of emotions he scarcely understood and couldn't sort through. He had a plan. Not a solid, unshakable plan. But he'd had one… And all he'd hoped for was a fair fight. By why in the hell would Romana give them that? No. She's put him up against people she knew he'd never be able to hurt. People he cared for… She manipulated an impossible situation. And Hana. Hana had sided with the miserable bitch of a warden. She'd chosen to fight them. Something Luca had never banked on…

The ache in his body was better than the one in his heart. He needed to see Chloe. He knew she had questions and he wanted to answer them. But that hurt, too. The idea of seeing her when he knew he'd failed her…

Tears burned hot against his palms and his hands fell into his lap as a curse drove past his lips. He was no coward.

Pushing up to his feet, he made his way to where he'd watched them lay her and carefully, he pulled aside the curtain, “C-clo?”

Chloe couldn’t remember how to speak for the first sixty seconds of being wheeled into the infirmary. Her thoughts ran a hundred miles a minute, consisting mainly of “fuck”, “Christ.” And “Oh thank God.” Her fingers drummed miserably as the fog in her head cleared, massaging her jaw with her thumb as she choked on her words. “O-o-one…” she finally managed, focusing on the simplest word her mind could pinpoint and attempting to perfect it. With each moment of incoming clarity, she found that her turmoil lightened and her tongue no longer felt as if it was suffocating her. She drummed her fingers against her palm this time, forcing herself to sit up and sway her body from left to right, making sure she could feel in control.

“T-two. T-three…” softly, the counting of her fingers letting a little giggle escape from her, and with a childish grumble she whispered “G-get to t-the c-center o-of a…”

“Clo?” A mirror of a stutter brought her out of her haphazard vocal therapy, a blink overcoming her already weary vision as she silenced the gentle tap to her skin. Turning towards Luca, Chloe averted her eyes towards her shoes as they swung off the infirmary bed. She slowly held out her hands, palms up, humming gently and trying not to glance back up to his demeanor. She still felt red threaten to seep into her cheeks.

“D-dear? Y-you okay?”

Blinking as Chloe reached out her hands, Luca stepped forward uneasily, and his palms surrounded hers, cupping them tightly, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Clo…” He murmured, gaze fixed, hard, on their hands, “I… I failed you. I thought… I thought we could rely on a passive approach. I thought Hana would… I dunno what I thought, but I never expected… Doesn't really matter. I messed up. And I'm sorry.”

“I-i m-meant p-physically...silly.” She cooed gently in hopes of soothing him, pressing his knuckles to her lips in an attentive and cautious gesture. “I-i don’t c-care a-about w-what happened back t-there.” Dropping their hands to her lap, she gave his a gentle squeeze and let herself unleash the laugh she had been holding in between the time of forgetting even how to speak, until now, which had rumbled in her chest unpleasantly. It was softer than she had thought, much more controlled than she could imagine she was able to. “B-besides. s-second round. S-safe. N-no more fights.”

The heaviness of his words hit her late, sinking into the pit of her stomach where it settled and swirled, a tempest of disgust and guilt. “F-failed me, hmm?”

Breathing in, Luca sank down beside her, tightening his jaw as she brought his hands up, brushed a kiss to the knuckled. Briefly awestruck by the gesture, he nearly forgot his words, but her question brought him back to it and flinching, he shook his head.

“Ten years, Clo. W-would’ve you down to twenty-five. Same as me. I… I would wait twenty-five years to get out of here if it meant… if it meant we got out of here together. But… but the idea of you… being stuck here another ten?” Releasing one of her hands, he reached out and almost tentatively, he cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the apple, “...I would fight every damn soul on this ship if it meant getting out of here with you.”

“S-someone’s flustered.” She claimed, her gaze finally meeting his with hesitance clear in her eyes. His words felt like a dagger in her heart, and once again she had forgotten how to speak, how to slacken her jaw, how to let her voice vibrate against her throat. Without meaning to, she found her form melting against his touch, a flinch threatening to pierce her otherwise peaceful demeanor. “W-waste of y-years, d-dear. You...y-you c-can f-fight a-again the f-fight after n-next y-year’s. I-I wouldn’t w-want you t-to r-risk i-it, though. E-especially n-not…” she paused, humming merrily as if to forget what she meant to say.

“...I don’t care if it’s ten minutes off your sentence, Chloe. I would fight.” His other hand joined the first and he met her eyes, firmly, shaking his head, “...How can you say it’s a waste? You… you have to know that you… you’re the only thing that’s kept me going. I should’ve… I… Should’ve said it years ago, but I… God, I’m an idiot. I would risk everything for you. I just… I wanted it to be this year.”

“Y-you a-a-are a f-f-fool. A s-s-sweetheart...b-but a fool.” Struggling to speak in light of his expression, the pleading, the damn near desperation, she once again avoided his gaze. Extending her pointer finger, she mumbled “M-mistake o-one, y-you got a-attached.” She pressed her finger down gently to his nose, a little warmth creeping to her neck. “W-w-who d-does that in p-prison?” She teased, her muse faltering. “B-besides, f-f-fifteen y-years is bearable, f-for you.”

“...You say that like you gave me a choice, Carina. Do you not even know how perfect you are? Hell, Clo. I didn't have to try to… to fall for you. Happened all on it's own.” Leaning forward, gingerly, he pressed his forehead to hers, “Nothing is bearable for me if you're not there.”

“O-one k-kiss and you’ve g-gone p-poet on me.” She took a brief moment to pause, to absorb what he had said, concern briefly tainting her expression. She bounced her head, up and down, erasing any anxiety from her visage as she bounced her nose against his, an action of affection she had learned not too long ago. “S-so, w-w-we are a-alive.” She claimed, attempting to distract from the question at hand regarding the sentencing. Chloe would have rather kept her mouth wound shut, the mere topic of reducing a hellish sentence by what seemed to be nothing sending a shiver down her spine. She had just gotten lucky it wasn’t a lifetime, and yet, somehow she figured it would have been less sadistic. This sentence made her believe she could return to normal. Even if it meant getting out of prison after spending more than half your life beyond concrete walls and bars. “Y-you o-owe me a-an explanation.”

“I know, Clo. I… I owe you a hell of an explanation.” Thumb running along her jaw, he shook his head with a small, weak smile, “I just… I never knew how to even start. How… how do you bring something like this up? But then we were in the cavern and… and I thought if there was even the slightest chance I might not make it out…”

“I-if y-you g-got k-killed I-I would h-have m-murdered you.” She attempted to tease, although the attempt became muffled underneath horrid realization, that it was entirely possible the three of them could have been killed. Yet, Hana, despite the crude method of victory, did spare their lives, rather than dragging their bodies to the water and letting them drown. Despite the gory image, Chloe hypothesized the feeling scorching in her stomach was gratitude, rather than disgust. “H-how long? A-and f-for G-god’s s-sake, what d-does c-carina mean?” She questioned, this time a smirk pulling along her lips. “S-something p-poetic Im s-sure.”

“Yeah… I mean. I know now that theory was pretty cracked, but I was kinda thinking on my toes, there.” He responded, with a dry chuckle, “Besides… I had to… to do something.” With a small sigh, he dropped his hands to her side at her next question, “...Few years. I… I didn’t really count. Too long. But it just… I got deeper and deeper into it and it got harder to say anything without feeling like I was… like I’d scare you away.” His cheeks slightly flushed, his gaze lowered, as he looked down at his hands, “It means beloved. I… I was always kind of afraid you’d go and ask River and I’d be screwed, to be perfectly honest.”

“I-It c-c-could have b-been worse. Y-you could have b-been b-backp-peddled into a c-c-corner w-while b-being t-tagteamed.” Chuckling at the memory of Archer squirming in the snow, Chloe let her eyes flutter close, the desire to plunge into her mattress fully overwhelming her nerves. She forced her head to remain grounded against her fist, bouncing her cheek gently against her knuckles. “I-its h-hard to s-s-scare me. T-trust me...I-I’ve b-been k-kissed b-by trash b-before. T-that was n-not it. N-nothing t-t-to be s-scared of. N-not l-like I’m g-g-gonna a-aim f-for w-where the sun d-don’t shine.” Her eyes pried open, fully awake now as his confession spilled from his lips. Somehow, she knew she shouldn’t have been shocked by such a revelation. Guilt once again built at her chest, piling upon her heart and threatening to crack it down the middle. “I-I should h-have. F-figured...L-leave it a m-mystery.” Trying to smile, she rubbed her thumb across his hand. She was adjusting to the amount of contact between the two of them, despite it not being unpleasant. Typically she was only ever bathed in this affection when…

“B-beloved’s c-cute.”

Luca grimaced at her confession, looking up at her with a small frown, “...N-never wanted to ask, but… but I kinda figured from the way you carried yourself. Someone hurt you. That was part of it, Clo. Why I never… I just… I didn’t ever want you to think that it wasn’t genuine. That I was just… You know how people get in places like this, and I didn’t want you to think it was just a game to me.” Looking up again, he reached to brush her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, “Bah knew. He.. guess he kinda figured it out.”

“I-it would e-explain the s-stutters, t-the f-fact that I-i k-killed someone...c-cut off t-their…” she stopped there, knowing the reaction she usually got out of that tidbit. April laughed. Bahram looked like he wanted to vomit. Regardless, there was some humor laced in her tone, whether or not she wanted to permit it. “U-unless t-that sort of t-things happens b-because of…” twirling her thumb near her temple, she whistled lowly, crossing her eyes slightly by pinpointing a sight upon her nose. However, her body relaxed and she found herself returning to her hands in her lap, barely able to look at him. “O-of course h-he knew. I-I’m g-gonna be honest...I-I’m not s-surprised.”

“Less than they deserved…” Luca spat, without an ounce of remorse. The only downside to what she had done was that she was here, in the hellhole that was Hagur, “Sort of wish the bastard had lived. Death’s too good for scum like that.” Looking at her again, his expression shifted, softened… but cautiously, “Not surprised he knew? Or not surprised… I… you know…?”

“F-first p-person n-not to go ew.” Chloe claimed with a smirk, the protectiveness in his tone somewhat endearing. Her fingers intertwined with his, a gentle wink greeting him. “I-i wish h-he were a-alive too. I-it would b-be funny t-to see h-him e-emasculated.” Shifting to her knees, Chloe gave him a look over, taking her time to skim him up and down. “Y-you a-are a d-dumbo.”

Chuckling softly, Luca shook his head, “Sorry… I grew up around some pretty grisly stuff, Carina. And a man would touch you in that way…? I would have liked to… Nevermind.” Clearing his throat, he unfurled his fists and brushes his palms on his legs, looking over to her, “...Is… is it... okay, Clo? You… you’re not weirded out?”

“T-there w-wasn’t m-much you c-could do.” To prove her point, Chloe slowly folded the hem of her sleeve down to her shoulder and pinched the muscle attentively with her thumb and forefinger. “M-me and m-my strong a-ass. B-burnt h-him to a c-crisp.” Paling slightly at the memory of the crime, Chloe rolled the fabric back down and patiently held her hands in her lap. “I-I’m i-in p-prison. I-in f-f-fucking s-space. I d-don’t get w-weirded o-out, anymore. If...if it...makes…” Struggling, she attempted to slur her words together, slowing down each syllable with a determined expression, brow pinched in a scowl. “You...f-feel better. B-best k-kiss I’ve e-ever gotten.”

Eyes shifting over to her, Luca’s smile twisted slightly sheepish, as he rubbed the back of his neck, “...Wish I hadn’t waited till we were in the middle of a freakin’ death game. Might’ve been a little less… tense?” Chuckling softly, he lowered his hand, and apprehensively, his fingers stretched to hers, the tips brushing the side of her thumb, “But that doesn’t make me feel too bad, no.”

“Y-you gave R-r-romana a run f-for her m-money.” Chloe mused, bouncing her shoulder against his playfully. “Besides. E-encouraged me to s-stay on my t-toes. Hell o-of a wake u-up call…” She claimed, knowing that it had muddled her mind more than she had already felt in the battlefield. She wasn’t sure which affected her ability to speak more, the electric shock or his actions. She slowly pressed her fingers against his, glancing up at him with a hint of mischief. “i-Im a-assuming i-it won’t be t-the last?”

Blinking, Luca sat up a little straighter, and after a moment of flustered stammering, he grinned, giving a small shrug, “I… God, Clo… I really… You…” Eyes meeting hers, he swore softly, before reaching up to cup her cheeks, and as he had in the arena, though with less urgency, and certainly less hesitation, he pulled her lips to his.

“Mmhm.” She mused clearly, accepting the gesture readily and placing her hands over his, she kissed him back this time, unafraid and at ease with the affection given to her. Temptation threatened to crawl up her fingertips as she dug her fingers into the palm of his hand, and debating between teasing him or breaking from the action. She nibbled at his bottom lip gently before pulling away, her entire visage maroon and shimmering bright against her skin. “Luca I l-“ She began clearly, only to feel a gentle thud against the top of her head.

“Lass, lad, try not to get too domestic up in this hellhole.” An accented voice boomed behind her, eyes lifting to see Bahram hovering over her form. “Don’t wanna have to babysit while I’m still a convicted felon.” Bahram gave a hearty pat on the back to Chloe before lending a wink to Luca, humming and tapping his fingers against his torso. Despite what Chloe would have assumed to be disappointment over losing, he appeared to be in bright spirits. The large, mountain of the man even had a genuine smile along his lips.

“I hope ya alright there, I’m gonna go check on River. Don’t know if ya saw; but the kid looked like he had a rough night. Don’t bother to check on me either, love birds. Oi, I wonder if old Bah bah black sheep is gonna be a wee bit shocked…” Attempting to raise his voice to mimic the young woman, Chloe gently placed her hands on his back and pushed him out of the curtain line, waving him a goodbye before giggling at Luca.

“B-better t-than the first or…”

He hadn’t killed anyone in the Dog Fights, but hell if he didn’t seriously consider it then, as Bahram interrupted what might have been the single most blissful moment Luca had had on Hagur since the day he arrived. It was a little disconcerting, to put it mildly, to hear that River had a difficult run in his own battle, but with the mountain sized teddy bear on his way to console the kid, the concern ebbed away slightly.

And when Chloe had sank down beside him again, he reached for her hand and laughing softly, nodded, “Yeah… I… I’d say so. You?”

Giggling at her friend’s exit, Chloe returned her attention to Luca, who appeared to be irritated. Who knew determinedly frustrated was such a cute color on her friend? Absentmindedly, and with a trace of innocent left in her gesture, she brushed stray hair from his eyes and gave him a wink. “I-I think t-the d-desperation in t-the one b-before.” She whistled lowly, tracing her fingers along her throat and shaking her head. “B-but...M-makes me f-feel good. S-so, first one?”

Swallowing, a subtle shiver rolling down his spine, Luca stared at her with more color flooding into his cheeks. Gingerly, shaking his head, he shifted closer, “...Well, that ain’t gonna do. Can’t hit my damn peek with the first kiss.” Fingers sifting through her hair, he cupped the back of her head, “Though I swear to God, Clo… I love Bah, but if he comes swoopin’ in here again, I’m gonna need a new cellmate.” His lips tipped into a sly smile, before he dipped down to kiss her again.

“G-glad I c-could be y-your first.” She pressed the palms of her hands to his chest, stabilizing her slightly wobbling form as she shifted to sit fully, lazily seeping into the cot. She had never recalled being so comfortable before in Hagur, or even before hand. She squirmed briefly, as if she didn’t remain perfectly in balance with his movement she’d be thrust from her current situation. “Y-you sound h-hopeful. Carino.” Being pulled asunder, Chloe lost of collection of thoughts and was rendered to a moment of peace once more. She pulled away briefly, only to bounce her nose gently against his. “C-could g-get used to i-it, couldnt y-ya, lover boy.”

“I didn’t mean...first… damn it.” Laughing, his thumb brushed her jaw, and he shook his head as he met her eyes. The sheepishness remained, lingering, softening the edge of his smile with a note of humility, “...Is it wrong for me to say, I sure as hell hope so?” Leaning his forehead against hers, he let his eyes fall closed with a small sigh, “It’s risky, Clo. Up here… shootin’ for happiness. Any happiness. But damn if I don’t think you and I deserve at least something in that family. I don’t care if I never get off this ship… so long as I get to be with you.”

“I-I can s-sense a virgin a-anything from a m-mile away.” She teased him knowingly with a grin, “M-my own s-superpower.” Adjusting her grasp upon him, her hands hovered by his waist and played at the hems of his uniform, thoughtful rather than provoking him. “I-i d-doubt R-romana would a-allow it. T-too domestic and w-wholesome for that soul.” She rested against his form, once again having to take time to fully grasp what he was informing her of. “O-one near d-death e-experience. Y-you got really r-romantic q-quick.”

Eyes widening slightly, Luca looked up at her, his cheeks coloring as he laughed, “...Hell, Chloe. You just… dove right for that one, didn’t you? Be fair, would ya? I was fifteen when they brought me up here, and hell if I had time for anything before then, with… work.” Shifting slightly, an arm wrapped around her to pull her close, he shook his head, “I don’t give a damn what Romana thinks. She can play her games… she can’t stop me from…” Breathing in, he cleared his throat, cheeks warming again, “...I.. it’s been building kind of a long time, Clo.”

“I-i did all t-that crap b-before I was t-that age.” She claimed with a shrug, as if it was natural for such a thing to occur before the age of fifteen. “N-nothing special a-about it. P-promise you.” Chloe wasn’t sure how such a similar touch comforted her when years ago it had left her trembling in her own sneakers. She realized it was simply that of intent and of pressure against her skin, light and devoid of harm. “I-I t-think that’s obvious, l-love. Y-you know; you c-could have t-told me. I-...I would n-never b-be cruel about i-it.”

“...Doesn’t sound like you exactly had the best experiences with it, Clo. And hell if that doesn’t make me wanna…” Breathing in, he bit down the rising anger… at her past, at what was done to her… at those that would perpetuate that fear in her. Instead, his thumb brushed her shoulder in a comforting gesture, and leaning in, he kissed the side of her head, “...I know you wouldn’t. I just… I could never find the right moment. The words. I ain’t exactly Shakespeare, Carina...”

“N-nothing I-i can do. G-gave m-me the b-best things i-in my life, t-though. S-so in a way...i-i wouldn’t h-have it…” that was not the truth. Chloe would have preferred it many different ways, the people remaining the same no matter how impossible the circumstance would allow it. Yet, expressing this emotion took words. Words were infuriating and useless, and she merely let her lips straighten as she cleared her throat. She figured that Snowman’s way of existence may have been simpler now, throwing obscene gestures as swiftly as possible and praying someone understands. “R-regardless. I’m g-glad you informed m-me.” She paused, guilt nibbling at her heart. “W-we should check o-on Bah and r-river soon.”

“...The best thing in your life?” Luca asked, a brow raised slightly. While she hadn’t exactly expressed disgust towards his advances, and seemed relatively interested in exploring something with him, he was pretty sure she wasn’t talking about him, or Hagur.

“H-hmm?” Chloe questioned, the color upon her cheeks draining as soon as it had come. She shook her head rapidly, brushing her hair behind her hair in anxiety. “U-um….getting h-here. M-meeting y-you and r-river and b-b-b-Bah.” She claimed, the stutters growing increasingly worse as she fumbled towards the other side of the bed to get to her feet.

His brow rose higher, this time with concern, and as she rose, he reached out gently, catching her wrist, “That’s not what you meant, Clo. I’m not stupid enough to think, no matter how much I care about you, that Bah and I are worth gettin’ stuck in this hellhole.” Shifting, he reached up to cup her cheek, his fingers gentle, warm, as they brushed her cheek, “...You’re safe with me. Everything is safe with me.”

“Luca.” She whispered, clear and weary all at once, fully intending to grant him a singular warning as he grasped her. “He. Is. The father. Of my. Brother. I am...glad. For him.” She took deliberate pauses for each phrase, her head bobbing involuntarily as the words escaped, her hand hovering miserably over her stomach as she rubbed her thumb across the fabric of her uniform. “And the other. Didn’t, care. For him.”

Luca opened his mouth to speak, when his gaze fell to the involuntary motion of her hand and shifting, his eyes rose to hers, his lip turning down in a frown as he let his fingers slide through hers, “...He…” Pausing, he trailed off for a moment, considering his words carefully, “...He’s not your brother… is he?”

Chloe wasn’t sure if it was irritation, rage or sorrow coursing through her as he kept pushing the matter. Kept pushing, picking and prodding at a topic that Chloe was determined to not allow into the open. Eyes hooded, demeanor cold and calculating, she released his hand and let the remaining color drain from her gaze. “Leave it alone.”

It wasn't a definitive answer, but Luca could see the twist in her expression and dropping his hand to his side, he lowered his gaze, nodding slowly, “Right. Sorry.” Jaw tightening, he reached up to rub the back of his neck, “You go ahead. I'll meet up later…”

“D-don’t pull t-that bullshit c-card.” She stammered, crossing her arms. “W-we are going, a-alright? N-no hard feelings.” Holding her head up high, Chloe fought the tremors building and cascading down her shoulders as her feet guided her to the exit, eyes fluttering in minor irritation. She had to fucking open to her mouth. To him, of all people. “C-come on, c-carino.”

There was a pinch in his chest as he continued to stare at his hands, his thoughts revolving too fast to catch up with. Painfully clear was that even after so long, and after what had happened earlier that day, he hadn't earned her trust. That he might never. That maybe everything she'd been through had destroyed the capacity for it. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to move. He wanted to reverse time two roughly ten minutes prior, before things had taken a turn.

Pushing off the edge of the bed, hands sliding into his pockets, he gave a terse nod, “Yeah, alright. I'm comin’.”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, glancing back at him with her lip tenderly held against her teeth. Once again, she found words to be foolish and hollow, her lips only formed in a slight smile. It horrified her that he knew. It horrified her that he seemed to be approaching her differently now, and whether that was by the tone or the truth she didn’t know. “D-deep d-dark and s-shitty secrets f-for five hundred, Alex.” She cooed once again, attempting to waver warmth into her voice.

Pausing, Luca looked up at her and for a moment, confusion crossed his face, before, as understanding dawned, his expression flooded with compassion, “...No. Don’t…” Shaking his head, he swore softly, stepping closer as his hands shifted from his pockets, brushing her hair back behind her ears, “...Clo. You… you have nothing to be sorry for. Least of all what happened to you. It’s not my business. It’s not. I want you to feel safe, but hell if I’m gonna force you to tell me anything. I would never… I’m just an idiot, Carina. I followed the steps and I should’ve just… kept my mouth shut. I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

“H-hard to feel s-safe in a p-prison, dear.” She claimed with a raised brow, although humor laced her tone despite the growing pit that lingered in her stomach, nausea bubbling in her throat as a result “D-don’t worry about...that, okay? M-my thing, to worry.” She pressed her thumb into his chest, hoping to allow herself to open back up and receive the comfortability that she had managed to obtain before.

Catching her hand, he brought it to his lips, before folding his forehead to the knuckles, “...I’m always gonna worry about the people I love, Clo. Just gonna have to get used to it. Used to drive my family nuts, before I wound up here.” Looking up again, he shook his head, “...But you don’t ever have to feel like… like you need to tell me anything. I just want you know you… you can, if you ever… want to.” Fingers sliding through hers, he nodded, “We should probably go, before I put my foot in my mouth again.”

“W-was that a confession, l-lover boy?” Chloe’s brow raised, although the emotion swirling in her chest was not that of an unpleasant experience. Anxiety did nip at the back of her throat, dry and scathing. “I-if so, wasn’t s-subtle. A-and don’t w-worry, I-I’ll b-be the o-one doing t-that for you.” She winked, doing anything to keep the heat out of her face.

“Wasn’t really meant to be subtle.” He admitted, with a small shrug, and a soft chuckle, red coloring his cheeks just slightly, “I don’t mind sayin’ it. Like I said earlier, been buildin’ for a while.” Lowering his hands, he took one of hers in his, and nodded to the door, “Let’s go see how River’s doing.”
  • Love
Reactions: Mobley Eats

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Frickin' Infirmary | Interactions: Fritz and Wick Elle Joyner Elle Joyner | Location: Infirmary

Her arm felt brand new. It was a strange feeling… to go from such intense, stinging pain to nothing so fast. She might’ve been more impressed, if her mind wasn’t so thoroughly wrapped around the two severe mistakes she had made… She could feel it, still, the tear, like acid burning down her cheek, and then that name. That damnable name. She needed to run damage control, as soon as humanly possible. With the runt and with Fritz. God. Fritz. He’d ended up being something so much different than what she expected, and the realization was terrifying.

She couldn’t go back, now. Not when things were finally headed in the right direction, but she needed to get ahold of herself, or she was going to fail, again. Her nails dug crescents into her palms, and red stained the white sheets, but she felt nothing. She had to feel nothing. She would not fail him twice.

Aside from cleaning off the blood caked into his hair, Fritz’s treatment was just as speedy as Wick’s. Once the nurse was finished with both of them, she had astutely reminded the pair that Dinner would start soon, but they were allowed to go at their own leisure or whenever they were ready. The ginger gave out the politest yet dryest “Good day” he could muster, as fury still lingered in his veins. Fury towards Bungee. Fury towards Jumbo. Fury towards that damned River… but etiquette had no room for such emotions. At least, not for them to put on public display.

Thus, he crammed down whatever fire licked up his spine and focused on his quee, who seemed… distracted. Thoughtful--ever since they had arrived back on Hagur. He meandered over to her bed, seating himself next to her. “May I indulge in the thoughts currently running through your mind, love?” he asked, voice soft but still airy with permanent confidence.

Palms flattening over the red marks she’d left on the bed, Wick looked to Fritz with a tip of her head, her lip turning up in a small, sly smirk, “Only and always of you, my darling. We had quite the successful venture, did we not?”

Fritz mirrored her smirk readily, though his eyes snapped down briefly to her hands. It was last minute, but he had caught the flicker of red. Blood. He could never mistaken such a thing and he knew that it was fresh. “I agree,” he hummed, “There were some… unfortunate developments and those who are now destined to suffer greatly in the near future.” Bungee. Of course he mainly meant Bungee. “But overall, I shall dub it as a success.” Gently, his fingers danced along her wrist, before pulling up ever so slightly. Not enough to move it, but enough to silently ask if this was okay.

“Hmm… Suffering. That, dear Sparky, sounds like we have some fun events planned for--” As his fingers brushed her wrist, she trailed off, and her eyes lowered, something flickering through them, brief, hesitant. Slowly, she turned them over and unfurled her fingers, fighting a grimace as her teeth bit into her cheek, holding out her palms to him like a child, caught in the act of sneaking candy.

Fritz examined her palms with a surgically blank expression. In those moments of heat building underneath his skin and boiling up to the fiery tip of his head, self control was all but lost. However, any other time, and his emotions were well controlled. Well tempered. A weak chuckle escaped him. “I am almost concerned, my Love. For your thoughts to be centered around me and yet…” His thumb stroked near a bloody crescent. “For them to inspire this sort of reaction…” He locked icy-warm eyes with hers, awaiting her reply.

Damn it...

Breathing out, slightly shaky, Wick lowered her eyes to her palms, as if they had personally betrayed her, “...I… I may have been a touch distracted.” She murmured softly, before her gaze rose to his, “It… it frightened me. Just… just for a moment. What happened in that room…” Swallowing, she let her hands relax against the brush of his thumbs, “I don’t like being afraid. It’s an appalling emotion.”

“I heard it. In your voice, I mean,” Fritz said, his thumb still running back and forth across skin. “Hearing such a thing escape you, it… For that brief moment, it had shattered something within me that many believe to be unbreakable.” A pause, his jaw clenching and unclenching in thought. Hesitance, perhaps, before he banished the emotion and continued in a somewhat quieter tone, “But… I must admit, that it was also relieving to hear.”

For a brief moment…

Another breath escaped, and her eyes shifted, lowered, as she absorbed those words. Fritz was a puzzle. A man, unsearchable, unknowable to so many. He played games… but there was no amusement or enjoyment in the words he said now. There was no falsehood or pretense, and that terrified Wick to her core.

Eyes rolling up again, she frowned in thought, “...Relieving?”

Fritz hummed in response and he could feel Wick’s eyes penetrating him. Trying to delve past his skin. Past his armor. Nitpicking him from head to toe and he welcomed the gesture with open, nonchalant arms. Only his queen was granted such an action. He fell silent once again, mulling over his words repeatedly until they were perfect, as perfect as the perfectionist that he was. Finally, in a light yet impossibly dulled tone, he said, “Yes, relieving. It confirms that you’re just as much of a monster as I am, and yet,” slowly, he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, “Human all the same. A complete monster would never return the feelings I have for you.”

For a moment, she was silent, as once again, her mind revolved, the words slipping in, filtered… studied… It might have offended her, coming from anyone else. Not because it wasn’t true, of course, but because anyone with the audacity to assume anything about her was offensive by nature alone. Yet as he spoke, the corner of her lip turned up, and her brow rose just slightly, her fingers curved smoothly over his hand, “I admit, when you first asked me to lunch, I had other calculations in mind. But you continued to surprise me, again and again. I thought… I thought I found someone worthy, once. He’s why I’m here. His failure. But you? You did not fail me, Fritz.” Tentatively, almost, though not in a way that would suggest shyness, her free hand rose, her fingertips grazing the edge of his jaw, expression thoughtful, “...But I don’t think we’re monsters. I think we are more. So much more. And together we are unstoppable.” Leaning close, her lips neared the outer shell of his ear, voice a hum of a whisper, “I would burn the world for you…”

“Failure is not an option, my Queen. Not when it involves you.” A slow, calming breath filtered into his lungs as her touch lingered along his jaw, features relaxing instantly. As she grew close, he could’ve sworn the hairs on the back of his neck stood, a faint shiver of delight running down his spine. No word nor value could describe the effect she had on him. The power she had over him.

She would burn the world for him.

Burn the world.

“Etot ugol sozhzhen, ty, blin, chert poberi!"

The loud clanging of metal smacking into tiles. Spittle flying into his face. Marmalade glaze and mutilated lambchop coating the tips of his shoes--

A chuckle escaped him, lighter than anything the zero gravity around Hagur could ever hope to achieve. His lips caressed the side of her neck. “As would I, my Queen. Without hesitation.”

Too close...

Tipping her head to the side at the warmth of his lips on her skin, Wick let her eyes fall closed. Maybe it didn’t have to be a mistake, after all. Maybe it could be done, still… even if it wasn’t the original plan. She could feel it… the genuine nature of his words, and she knew, already, even now, she had the man wrapped around her finger. If she tread carefully, couldn’t she had everything she wanted, and still get what she needed…?

Or would he be like Ilan…

Eyes snapping open, she looked to Fritz, “...Do you think I’m beautiful, Fritz?” She asked, with a small note of edge to the question.

“No,” he said matter of factly, “I do not think you’re beautiful. I know you’re stunning.” He pulled away, just away for his face to remain inches away from Wick’s.

Shifting slightly, Wick turned suddenly, twisting her back to the man. Giving the tug of her jumpsuit a pull, she unzipped it to let the orange material fall away from her shoulders, her back. The scars had faded only slightly over the years, some more than others, varying sizes and shapes, a map of violence that covered nearly every inch…

Breathing in, she kept her gaze forward, away from him, “...How do I look, now…?”

Fritz’s eyes dulled as soon as she started unzipping her jumper. He had suspicions. Of course he did. Ever since the night of their first date, the hesitance to full disrobe, he knew that something was… stewing within her. And he had overlooked it because as a gentleman, it was not his business to pry, and furthermore, as her King, he couldn’t bare to do so. Not against her will. Never.

As the cloth fell down to reveal her scars, he froze. A heavy silence fell over them, one party rigid and expectant while the other gazed upon the marred skin, expressionless.

Then, there was movement.

A single finger. Then two. Soon those two joined by the ring and pinky, gentle pressure against her shoulder blade. His hand remained motionless. “My, my,” he sighed, “Only my Queen would have the power to disapprove my own words. This is not beautiful, nor stunning. Not magnificent nor amazing…” He leaned forward, slowly, ever so carefully, as if he feared to shatter the air around them if he wasn’t cautious enough, and kissed the nape of her neck. His voice was warm against her skin. “Perfection.”

Breath held, Wick waited for the reaction. The exploration of his fingertips were expected… For so many had to feel, to see. The kiss, was not. And as a shiver rolled the length of her back, her skin giving way to goosebumps, her expression shifted, stunned, for just a moment, by that solitary word. Real, genuine surprise…

Turning again to look at him, a brow lifting up towards her temple, Wick met the man’s gaze, “...Red in a gray world… You… you are unexpected.”

Fritz held the look with utmost confidence. Comfort. There was nothing within his eyes that he wished to hide, not from her, he had no reason to do so. A light hum vibrated in the back of his throat. “A fire in my cold one… Boredom would’ve demolished it ages ago if I allow myself to follow the constraints of expectancy, my Love.” He played with a single lock of her hair. “I only follow what pulls me. And that is your fire.”

“...I had not…” Biting the edge of her lip, Wick paused, carefully considering the words, weighing them against her own uncertainty, “I had not thought it possible… that I could find anyone of worth. Yet with every passing moment, you surprise even me.” Her fingers reached towards his arm, following the length to his hand, before carefully weaving them through his, “My King...” She whispered, tenderly, but her eyes were fire, “...I’m yours.”

“Then I deem myself the luckiest King to have ever breathed,” Fritz whispered. His fingers curled around hers, giving it a brief and gentle squeeze before pressing their foreheads together. He didn’t wish to move, not for at least a few moments. His eyes fluttered closed and he focused entirely on this specific piece of time, a cherished chunk that he basked in, took advantage of to soak in her marvelous, unquenchable fire. Lowly, he continued, “As long as I can be yours, my Queen.”

“Oh… of that, you should have no doubt, my darling. I would have it no other way...” Tracing her other hand along his jaw, palm folding, thumb brushing the shell of his ear, Wick’s eyes shifted closed as well, a soft sigh escape, “...And what’s mine is mine forever.”

A soft chuckle escaped him towards the tail end of Wick’s words. “And what’s mine is mine for eternity.”

“Then we’re agreed…” She mused, with a sly smile, “...And we’ll burn the world, together.”

Translation: "This corner is burnt, you side shitting fuck!"
Last edited:


Skittish Beaver
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Collab: Operation Pickup, Snowman Mobley Eats Mobley Eats

An amused giggle emitted from the shadowed figure. “Eh… No worries. Murder’s a one time deal for me,” he said. There was a moment that followed, hesitation biting at his skull, before swallowing back the sentiment and stepping forward to reveal himself. Ghostly pale. Soft blue eyes. Hair whiter than the snow that had crunched beneath Archer’s feet mere minutes ago in the simulator.

“I’ve got a proposition for you… Willing to hear me out?” Snowman said.

Archer hadn’t expected to see the lanky, pale excuse for a human being lurking in the malicious shadows, and yet there was a comfort to his melodious tone. How had he never heard him speak before? It was almost like...a little flute. It vaguely reminded him of his own brother when he got immensely excited, and whatever fear Archer had drained from his expression. “If it doesn’t involve a handjob I’m all for it, although, kind of sinister meeting in a place like this, don’t you think?” His brow perched, although a hint of a smile broke through. “Not a great way to pick up partners. Or uh...convince someone you aren’t planning on brutally molesting or murdering them.”

An amused grin pulled at Snowman’s lips, a hint of light seeping into his eyes. This entire situation was frightening, despite the fact that Gram had left him with the safer option of the two. So, to hear the prisoner’s lewd jokes and visible relaxation inspired a similar relief for him. Only minor, though. They still had much to do and discuss. Snowman just prayed that his voice could handle it. “It’s the best place to meet,” he said, gesturing to their dark surroundings, “We can’t be seen here. And I won’t molest you,” his arms folded loosely, almost as if he was cradling himself as the smile widened, “You’re not my type.”

“I don’t know which to be more offended by, that I’m not your type or that I’m not pretty enough to be molested by a beanpole named Snowman.” Archer moved inwards towards Snowman, arms firmly placed by his side as his fingers gathered up his loose prison uniform into his palms. He raised an eyebrow. “Now, what’s the proposition I’m being dragged into?” And can I get cigarettes or women? Or...well, both would be nice.

“Both,” Snowman said simply. Playfully. However, he forced himself reel the sentiment in and took an instinctive step away from Archer, though his smile remained. He raised one hand and, slowly, pulled his sleeve back to reveal what appeared to be a simple wristband. He pinched around the swell of the device and with a soft beep, a tiny projection screen emitted from it. The hologram presented a simple bar graph with the title Popularity Board. “You’re being dragged into the truth, basically,” Snowman said. “Your audience for the Dog Fights? Well… way bigger than everyone thinks.”

“Pop…” Archer’s demeanor crumbled, and for a moment, a crackle of humanity creaked through. The simple hologram, a bar graph(which he hadn’t the pleasure of seeing since his last discussion of particularly illegal sales), presented a horrifying truth. Somehow out of the many prisoners, out of all the monsters, the humans, and the empty shells...He managed to gain a higher popularity. His jaw slackened. Rather than bringing up that confusing observation, he muttered. “Who's watching?”

“Anyone wealthy enough,” Snowman said, taking a reluctant pause. “Err… including anyone wealthy enough on Earth. These fights, this prison… we’re basically stars of a TV show.”

Archer only took a moment to digest the given information. Reality TV show. Prisoners. It made sense to him, people on earth typically liked to watch people rip each other’s throats out. What the hell did Georgina like to watch when she was alive? Bachelor? Kardashians? Literally anything that Archer would have prefered to go to prison over? Archer shook his head, the disbelief draining away from his head. “Any other prison I could have gone to and I get put at the Real housewives of hell holding facility.” His brow pinched. “And it would explain the Dog Fights…” he paused, a laugh threatening to escape him. Once it rippled through, it was hard to strangle it down. “And the put down...and...hell...the boiler...hmm? Hmm?” He questioned, over and over again as his laughter continued to boom. Once he quieted down, Archer pressed his knuckles to his lips. “So, are you offering me a modeling contract or some shit, snowflake?”

Snowman almost rolled his eyes at the snowflake jab--he’d heard that one so many times that it was borderline maddening. The only reason he didn’t comment on it was because he had snapped before--it would take a lot more than that to push him to the brink again. He mirrored Archer, raising a knuckle to his lips as well as he replied giddily, “Not today, pretty boy.”

And then the amusement dropped like a wet towel.

“But you’re figuring it out. All of those things were staged. Set up. The put down?” He pointed at Archer’s ratings in particular. The started rather low, but had shot up to 88% out of nowhere. “Definitely meant for you… was a huge gamble though, if you ask me. Listen, there’s a reason I’m telling you all of this. These games are Romana’s pride and joy. Her job. Her life… And soon, it’s gonna be her downfall.”

“Bitch...I’d like to see her throat slit for this.” He grumbled, recalling both near death incidents. The first was fun...gleeful. Because he wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to worry about passing, because he knew one thing. People stuck out for the weak. He was well prepared for such an endeavor. But the boiler...he could have easily let those two other men perish. And he should have let Abraham go. Yet...there was something within him that allowed anger to burn deep within his stomach. “Tell me how I can be of assistance.” If this allowed him a chance to get out of here...Oh. Sweet. Sweet. Sweet earth air.

Snowman merely nodded in agreement. Yeah, he wouldn’t mind seeing that. He flashed a smile, pleased at Archer’s cooperation. “Romana has eyes everywhere, just not in the way you think. The cameras around here? Just props to keep us away from the real ones.” He tapped his temple. “Eavesbots. All over the ship. And all linked to her eyes. But on the downside? She’s human, just like us, so she can’t see everything at the same time. And right now…” He gestured to the bar graph again. “Since you, Pandora and Twitch have the highest ranks, she’s not focused on you guys anymore. Gives us lots of wiggle room to get our hands on some tools.”

“Eavesbots…” Archer mused, the method clicking within his head. This was horrific, beyond his own twisted morals. He wondered how many times she had seen him...Er, he’d rather not think about that. “What sort of tools are we gonna need? Besides you know, blazers, weapons, overall warfare.” Scowling Archer leaned back, digging his teeth deeply into his lower lip. “You think Twitchy and Pandora are gonna be able to hold up this part of the deal?” His teeth threatened to grind together. He’d like to use some of that equipment to…

“Something special, on top of a few of the basic weapons. I don’t know the specifics of it, but Gram’s said it’s a hell of a doozy. Apparently something that Romana brought in,” Snowman said. He finally dismissed the projection screen and took a moment to swallow. His throat was growing dry--quickly. All of this talking would take a serious toll on his vocal chords, but he’d be willing to deal with the consequences. He quirked an eyebrow at Archer’s question before shaking his head. “They’ll be handling something else with Gram. Retrieval is entirely up to us.”

“Retrieval. Got it.” Archer swallowed harshly, relieved that for a moment, he was too high on the charts to even be noticed by that bitch Romana. “Did Gram say specifically where she’s keeping this grand old weapon? If not, we are going to have to...well, improvise. Which, as fun as that is on paper, provides us with more of a challenge. And you know, likely chance of getting caught.”

“Hey…” Snowman pinned Archer down with a firm look. “Don’t underestimate Gram. He’s told me the exact drop spot and crate number. We’ve got this. Also…” He backed away to rummage through a dark corner and as he emerged from the shadows again, he held out a pack of cigarettes for Archer. “Think of this as a reward for cooperating.”

“Gram is one efficient mother fu-“ Archers words cut off at the sight of the package, beautifully wrapped in cheap plastic and containing his precious treasure. Fingers fumbling for the gift, he held it up to his eyesight. “Thank you. I owe you.”

Snowman shrugged. “It’s no biggie.”

A minute or so later found the pair of prisoners perched at the fourth level platform of the Cargo Loading deck. Snowman sat with his legs through the bars and dangling off the side, one hand curled around the rails as he watched cargo come and go. There were no other prisoners present except for them since it wasn’t working period; only a handful of guards roamed the premises back and forth, twirling their batons idly. It was almost painfully easy gaining access to the area. As soon as Snowman’s face was recognized, guards stepped aside for Gram’s notorious lover and his plus one.

The only hard parts were scouting and… figuring out how to move these loads to begin with. Gram had told Snowman where to drop everything off, but it was a decent trek to there from the deck. He looked up at Archer, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “We have to wait until the crate number shows up there.” He pointed at a massive pixelated screen on the opposite wall; it was split in two sections for Ongoing and Incoming. “We’re waiting for ZH450. That’s our cargo to bring in.”

Archer didn’t think he had ever been in the cargo hold, the one exception being his occasional run in with a guard to receive his beloved death sentence. However, Archers feet never personally strolled on into the cargo hold. A small smile threatened his lips as he thought about being able to mail himself out of there, or, rather, perhaps being able to mail someone in. His eyes drifted from guard to guard, wondering how in hell this snowy owl managed to get so much street credit. From what he heard it was a one murder deal, that and...well. Gram. Most likely. Respect for a fellow serial killer and his screwing buddy.

Archers nails dug into the plastic package of his well received gift. “Do you know where this bad bitch is coming from?” He’d assume the government in some form would fund this prison hell hole, but he wasn’t sure if that was exactly where Romanas play things came from.

Snowman shrugged. “Don’t know who sends ‘em, don’t know who makes ‘em. Sure would like to know too…” he trailed off, a thoughtful pinch to his brow. “I mean… I’m assuming it’s all funding from viewers that pay for it, but the creation part is beyond me,” he said.

“I don’t know who in their right mind would want to watch a bunch of killers, rapists, kidnappers, and the worst of all, tax evaders, fight to death in a premade arena.” His nail slit the plastic, but he refused to open the package yet. He would savor them wisely, hopefully getting it to last a week. He really didn’t like doing the guards….well, um, doing the guards. “Someone’s Romanas Little manufacturer. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got his or whole family at gunpoint.” An amused chuckle escaped him. “Probably not, but I assume she’s a pain in the ass to work for.”

“People sicker than us,” Snowman muttered, a thoughtful lilt to his tone and his gaze distant. Detached. “The rich. The ones free of rules and the law. The ones who can get away with anything… that’s who.” At Archer’s comment about holding families hostage, he heaved a dry chuckle, though it didn’t lack in the slightest in amusement. He shook his head. “Not exactly guns keeping them quiet. Money’s the best damn weapon you can use, no contest… And don’t get me started.” He rolled his eyes, borderline playful. “Gram and I always hated that bitch. It just… the situation used to be nice. Comfy. But now… now it’s… not so much.”

“The cozy who have their feet rubbed, dicks tended to, and an easy road to follow. Oh, living the dream.” He placed the back of his hand to his forehead, as if to swoon or faint from the fantasy that he lusted for in mind. “How did you end up getting cozy with her anyway?” His eyebrow perked, curiosity beaming dully in his eyes. “Favors or connection, snowy owl?”

“Drown in jealousy, peasant,” Snowman giggled, a hint of pink flushing his pale features. It felt good to joke around, if only briefly right before diving into this mission. It helped him unwind, to clear his mind and prepare his nerves. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, fingers drumming the rails gently. “Connection. Gram’s… real close to Romana. Like, family close. But that bitch betrayed both of us, so… here we are, I guess?”

Archer wasn’t sure if it was Snowman’s time that caught him off guard or if he was softening up, but he let a genuine laugh escape him for the first time in what felt like a century. It wasn’t conjured to charm or to bemuse, not to mock or to irritate. His chest bubbled with warmth and it took an intense amount of strength to smoother the feeling. “Ah...I don’t wanna drown in gold and hookers. Besides; who has such boring lives that they go and watch people tear each other apart to survive?” A pause. “Oh...there are already several reality shows about that. Fuck you, real housewives. Bachelor. Although that show can be hot as fuck.” A smirk, and for a moment, his fingers stopped fidgeting.

“Family close? Ah, the worst sort of betrayal. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t born but spawned. Look...snowbird, er, despite the shit we do, despite the lack of souls in this hell pit. I have to say this. Fuck your boyfriends blood relation. Fucking witch.”

Snowman shrugged again. “Sadists. Disguised as rich assholes. Boom--I just solved your equation, Einstein.” Another giggle bubbled up the back of his throat, though it didn’t quite last as long as the last one. “You know? Sounds insane but… I’m sure Dog Fights is the number one reality show in the world… Brain’s turning into mush just thinking about it, Archer.” Snowman snorted shortly after, finally looking Archer’s way again but with a certain shine in his eyes. Perhaps surprise. Maybe gratitude. Likely both. “You’re probably the only one I’ve met to think like that. At least, when it comes to Gram. The others… I bet they’ll give him Hell for it…”

Another pause.

“...Hey. Check this out.” Without waiting, Snowman stuck his tongue out, pinching the tip with his fingers and pulling it down even further. Twin lines of old scar tissue ran across the organ in a large X.

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Operation Pick Up, Part II | Interactions: Snowman, Archer KatSea KatSea and Guard | Location: Loading Docks

“Emc squared equals cocksuckers I see.” Archers lips pulled back into a bemused smirk. “To be honest with you, I’m not surprised. We are basically a soap opera. You see people have sex together, you see people get into fights. You see people scared shitless, and you see monsters in their natural habitats. It’s almost as are there but from the comfort of your own home.” His mouth watered at the idea of being able to sit back, relax, and watch this horror show from thousand of miles away. “You can’t control who you are related to. That’s up to your sperm donor and their bitch.”

Archers eyes drifted down to snowbirds tongue, which he had stretched out to reveal a perfect, intricate X carved into the tissue. “That’s fucking wicked.”

Snowman listened to Archer, just content to soak up his crude humor and let his legs swing back and forth. He had always heard rumors about the man--unsettling ones--but he was never one for taking those at face value to begin with. Everyone had a story and they were the protagonist of it. No protagonist of real life could be as flat as a simple prisoner living up to their crime. At least, that was how Snowman saw it. Sometimes he was proven wrong, but more times than that, he was proven right. Like now.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling his tongue back into his mouth and flashing a small smile, “Call it my mark of no bullshit. Once I got that? I finally… took a stand for myself. It got me here, but…” He shrugged. “I’d have no tongue at all if it wasn’t for Gram.”

“It’d be a damn shame if you didn’t have that tongue of yours, snowbird. You’d give the angels a run for their money.” Scoffing, Archer’s nails once again pried at the packaging for the cigarettes. “I would offer ya a smoke, ya know? Just don’t want to damage something you barely use.”

“Word of advice? Might wanna lighten up on flirting with me, especially if Gram finds out,” Snowman teased. However, his mood sobered up a tad at the potential offer and he shook his head before it plopped down onto his hand, which was wrapped around the rail still. A light hum sat on the back of his tongue. “No thanks, Archer. I appreciate the thought and all that… You’re more than welcome to though. I gave it to you for a reason, didn’t I?” However, some jubilance snuck back into his countenance and he giggled while leaning back, practically dangling. “Then again, maybe I’m smoking hot enough to compensate.”

“I ain’t flirtin there snowbird. If I was, you’d throw me over the rail. I’m a devote, married man.” He protested, wiggling his ring finger in particular, despite the fact that it was horrifically bare. “Hmm, not enough toxicity to keep my lungs runnin, And you should be a tiny puddle if you were on fire, snowbird. Don’t want to clean up the mess. Or lose the company.” Archer chuckled, the familiar sensation of brotherhood tingling against his skin. When was the last time he called up Merrick? When was the last time he picked and prodded at the lie he had conjured? “I’m savin them, anyway. I need to keep them easily distributed until I can get another shipment. I learned that the hard way.”

“I’m too weak to toss you,” Snowman said with a pout. That… was definitely a lie, but he didn’t exactly have access to that strength or skill unless he, well… melted. He’d rather snap his pinky in two. Or let Pandora shatter his other knee. He shrugged again, conceding to Archer’s inarguable analysis of his chemical properties (he was right, the snow-haired man had a low melting point, what could he say?) and decision. “Fair enough. Any…” He paused, raising a fist to his lips and heaving a dry cough, the sensation inspiring fire up the back of his throat.

He’d been talking for far too long, it seemed.

Clearing his lungs, he continued, “Anyway, speaking of shipment… I think ours has arrived.” He nodded towards the screen, which finally switched to the next label and displaying the one they’ve been waiting for. A large crate rolled down the assembly belt, coming to a stop next to one guard.

“You’d be surprised, beyond this bulk and impressive muscle, I’m actually a stick.” He grumbled, planting his thumb onto his gangly bicep, a small pout threatening to encase his demeanor in a pufferfish doppelganger. “Hmm?” Archer’s playful visage melted in a matter of moments, leaving him once again stone-faced and somewhat ecstatic. He kept the emotion hidden as well as he could, a playful grin threatening to break the facade.

“That...I cannot lift with my bulging muscles. We are gonna need to get that bitch onto a cart. Although…” His eyes darted down to the guard and he sighed. “Might need to bribe the little fat cats.” His eyes darted to the gift in his hand, and with a small snicker, he nudged Snowman with a gentle thunk. “I got it.”

“Egads,” Snowman chuckled, slapping on an expression of utmost scandal while hiding a smirk behind his hand, “You damn charlatan. And here I thought they were real… You might as well be the next Kardashian.” Then his face pinched. “Wait, no. That was rude. I’m sorry.” Shaking his head free of the horrid comparison, his brow arched from the nudge before nodding, albeit with a hint of confusion and curiosity. “Err… okay. Whatever you’ve got planned, I’m tagging along though, Archie.”

“Bicep implants. I tried for breasts but that didn’t go well.” He claimed with a roll of his eyes, grimacing at the last name placed into him. It was like being crowned by the devil himself with a tiara of smoldering coals and thorns. “That’s worse than murder, snowbird.” He claimed with a smirk, gesturing the man to follow him out to begin the journey to the assembly line. “Bastards tend to like gifts, I’ve learned at least that in my almost two years here. I’d imagine it wouldn’t be too hard to persuade.”

Snowman merely giggled again while following Archer down a flight of steel stairs, taking two or three steps at a time with playful leaps.

The guard noticed their approach immediately but just as he raised his baton and peeled his lips apart to bark an order, he slackened. He recognized that snow white hair and annoyingly upbeat smile from anywhere. Begrudgingly, the guard relaxed, though he still eyeballed Archer with clear contempt. “What’s your business here, mutts? I swear to fuck, Snowman, if you’re here to stick more gum into the motors…”

Biting back a grin, Snowman merely held up two hands, claiming innocence. For once.

“He’s not here to cause mayhem. We’re...merely handling an order.” Shuffling the gift between his fingers, he raised it to eye level with the guard and let a small, pleasant smile slither along his lips. “A gift, for your trouble if you’d like. More where that comes from if you look the other way.” He cooed gently, eyes twinkling with a facade confidence. He somehow found this more horrific than hovering over a large pit of fire and determined doom, his heart beginning to skip its rhythmic beat. “And snowbird here won’t mess with you for a while, either. Good behavior, yeah snowflake?”

The guard looked between the pack of cigarettes and Archer skeptically, then over to Snowman, who was still wearing that infuriating smile. He could recount all the times the mute had wrecked a tool or cart around the loading docks, and the staff were always forced to take the heat in his place. Just the memory of it pushed a wave of heat to his face, lips nearly peeling back to reveal a snarl…

But then he remembered Romana. The Warden. His fucking boss. Orders were orders, and that included tending to this little dust bunny’s every beck and call. Swallowing back nausea and annoyance, the guard grumbled incoherently under his breath before snatching the pack free of Archer’s fingers, stuffing it into his pocket. He turned his back to them. “Five minutes to do whatever the fuck you need to. I wasn’t here,” he muttered.

Snowman beamed up at Archer.

“No you weren’t good sir. Now if you will excuse us.” Glancing at Snowman and realizing the pale mute’s face was corrupted by all smiles and warmth and a jovial attitude, heat threatened to creep upon the young man’s face. Fucking boy reminded him too much of Merrick, which sent a wave of nausea crashing into the back of his throat. The one man who could make him feel remotely human, and there happened to be his fucking doppelganger. Eyes fluttering back briefly, a horrid attempt to cover up a smile blossoming across his features. Regardless, he kept face and made his way beyond the guard.

“You’re little gift gave us the upper hand, thanks snowbird.” Swallowing, his eyes flickered up to the delivery and then to his own two hands. Yeah. There was no way in hell he was gonna be able to lift that up in five minutes. Of course, he figured, there were the carts to use and to get out as soon as possible. Dear God. He prayed to himself silently that Snowman had an exit strategy. Then again, he had gotten them this far. Cracking his neck from side to side, Archer’s eyes lingered to the boy. “Gonna help me get this thing loaded or should I show you my superior strength?”

Snowman also scanned the crate, lips pursed in thought. It was biggen and although he had complete faith in Archer’s Herculean musculature, two grown men wouldn’t be quite enough to move it…

But three could work.

Lips stretching into a pleasant smile, he turned to face the guard once more, held up a finger to Archer as a gesture to wait one moment, before using that same digit to tap the guard on his shoulder. He visibly flinched from the touch, only to shoot Snowman a dirty glare immediately after. “What?” he spat.

Snowman waved his arms over to the crate. Then the cart. Back and forth until the guard understood what he meant. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for the message to click; unfortunately, the guard’s contempt clearly doubled. “I already told you! I’m not involved in your stupid shit!” However, his raised voice merely succeeded in widening Snowman’s smile. With his middle finger, he hooked it into the man’s collar and dragged his ear down to his lips.

A moment of whispering.

Then the guard’s visage paled.

He nodded rapidly. “F-fine. Fine. W-whatever, I guess I can. Just don’t tell anyone, alright? I need this job.”

Snowman released the guard with another bright smile. Waltzing over to Archer, he gave his new friend a celebratory high five before taking up one side of the crate, the guard showing up to lend his strength.

“Damn.” Archer commented as the seemingly innocent man clutched the guard, whispering something that wasn’t audible to him. What the hell could have Snowman said to encourage this man to do the job? He assumed immediately that Gram was included in the intimidation tactic, but other than threatening his life, Archer wasn’t aware of what the man could have implied. Sneaky little fucker.. Archer gladly caught the man’s hand in his as he passed by, returning his attention towards the crate.

Bobbing his head in haphazard appreciation, Archer made his way to the opposite side of the crate and tugged his fingers underneath, attempting to pry it upwards to assist in the lift. Whatever Romana has in here...fuck me. Jesus, this better be a big pile of sex toys, and not sort of nuclear fall out weapons.

Luckily, the guard’s added muscle was just what the pair needed. With a grunt of effort, they managed to heft the crate onto the back of the cart, but as soon as it was put down, the guard was already making a hasty retreat. Snowman watched him leave with a playful pout--how rude, he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

Regardless, there was time for play and other times for business. They had a job to do and he would make Gram proud. No matter what. Scampering into the driver’s side of the cart (after strapping the crate down, of course), Snowman’s fingers drummed the wheel semi-eagerly as he waited for Archer. “The art of bullshitting. My fave,” he chirped gleefully.

“My God. I need you around more often, snowbird. How come I’ve never gathered your services before?” Archer watched the guard with vague disinterest before piling himself onto the cart, brow raising as he squirmed to get comfortable. He hadn’t been in a contraption like this since Merrick tried to make him go play golf or something foolish in that nature. But Archer was a good brother, and he kept his annoyed mouth shut. “Well, colored me impressed snowbird. Where are we taking this bad boy too?”

Cranking up the cart, Snowman flashed Archer a light smile. “The Corner.”


consistently inconsistent
Invitation Status
, , , ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Online Availability
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, No Preferences
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
David and Goliath: (and friends) The Therapy Session
With Elle Joyner Elle Joyner and KatSea KatSea

Despite the loss, Bahram felt completely at ease within the infirmary walls. He had taken his time against the cot, closing his eyes and letting a positive energy flow through his veins before even considering absorbing his surroundings. His nails dug at the sheets beneath him, a flurry of blinks attacking his eyelids once light was able to peer through his sight. Calm had entered his system, every muscle refusing to protest as he propped himself up to sit. That hurt like a bitch, for certain. He wasn’t sure what had stung worse, the electricity coursing through his body and rendering him unable to physically attempt to fight like the good old days(even though he knew he could never attack Hana with his bare fists). That, or it was knowing that Hana conducted such a ruthless plan of attack to save someone she cared for. Bahram wasn’t sure if she was saving Dudley or Bombay, but he feared for the woman after this. He knew Luca was going to be less than pleased. He was hellbent on trying to give that girl some years off her roster, even when he could tell she wasn’t intent on getting past round one.

Perhaps he should have felt anger for Hana. Yet nothing stirred. The only negative emotion in his chest was embarrassment. He knew that his certain associate was on the ship now. He’d get shit for losing a fight, but he couldn’t help it. It had been eleven years, and Bahram was getting rusty. He didn’t think he would want to get readjusted back into his old patterns, regardless. Perhaps this was for the better. He could already imagine Imogen’s shame, the surprise crackling along her freckles.

You considered hitting a woman?!

Yes. Yes he had. No pride crashed through him, yet he was at ease. His first priority was to peek in on Luca, who he knew was going to be, how did the Americans put it nicely...crabby. Finding his way to his feet, Bahram pulled the curtain ahead of him aside, only to realize Luca’s cot was empty. “Odd.” Traversing to the end of the room, he could begin to hear chatter on the other end.

These two doing the old devil’s dance, ain’t they. Grumbling, Bahram pulled the curtain aside and shielded his eyes. He figured a goodbye to the two was in order, considering what he had overheard while resting. From what the nurses around him seemed to say there was a death, and Bahram could have sworn River was involved one way or another. He figured he’d give the lad the benefit of the death, and thus, with a wave and a wink towards the man who wanted to kill Bahram in that moment, he fled his own infirmary. He was sure to gain River’s whereabouts, clearly still in an infirmary. Whether or not he ran into Fritz, Wick, Hana, or Archer, it didn’t matter to him.

He was gonna get to his friend one way or another. Peeking his head into the room he considered to be the correct one, the bulky man called out in a softer than silk voice. “River, lad, you alright?”

There were a million things running through River’s head, and none of them good. The only thing he was thankful for in this moment was the infirmary room, cold and quiet, allowing him to hide from the others, to hide from himself. Cradling his injured arm to his chest, even though it had been well taken care of, River tried not to drown in all the horrible possibilities, of who had seen the fight, of who would hate him or shun him or mock him. He tried not to think of Buck’s convulsing and then lifeless body, or Jumbo twitching on the ground, begging for help.

A voice pierced the air, and River was saved from his own thoughts, cringing at first before sitting up to see Bah’s face. His expression instantly softened, and he quickly rubbed his eyes, sniffling. “B-Bah… I’m...” Had he seen it? He hadn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t be addressing him so kindly. “Are you okay?” River deflected the man’s own question back onto him, knowing the fight previous had been rather... jarring.

Relief flooded Bahram’s nerves when River’s visage came to greet him, although he could sense grief radiating off the young man in waves. Bahram hadn’t focused on watching the fights, and all he had heard were mumbles from witnesses, so he couldn’t figure what had happened out in the battlefield. However, he knew the boy, despite him being here a short time. He wasn’t a bad soul. Tormented, yes. Evil, far from it. “Aye, the only thing hurting me lad is my pride. Er, you saw that didn’t ya?”

River tried to laugh, even forcing a weak smile that disappeared as quickly as it’d come. “Y..yeah. Glad you’re a-alright, though.” He mumbled, tugging on the blanket, picking at a loose thread absentmindedly. “You… d-didn’t watch… my round… did you?” He whispered, gaze growing that much more fearful, biting on his lip.

“Define alright. Me pride…” Pounding his chest with his fist(purposely feeble), Bahram approached the cot and slowly knelt down beside him, resting his chin in his hands as he observed the young man. He shook his head respectfully, knowing it was better not to watch any of the previous footage. It was brutal enough being in one of them, and as much as he missed the traditional round in the ring, there was something sick about watching fights in the simulators. About knowing that this year’s fights were forced and deliberate. “No, lad. Didn’t want to have to watch. Damn things makes my blood boil.”

River clenched his teeth, glancing at Bah with a worried flicker in his eyes. He nodded in understanding, though his gaze seemed far away, fingers trembling slightly as he tugged on the thread from the thin blanket. “Bah…” He began, a slight quiver in his voice. “If I did s-something… something a-awful in that fight… would you… would you ever f-forgive me?” His voice cracked along the last words, eyes squeezing shut as the horrifying images crept through his mind. Of all the bodies he had watched turn cold. Of all the bodies he had been forced to watch turn cold. Forced to make them… to kill them. How could anyone ever forgive him?

“Hmm?” Bahram questioned, although he feared what he had heard initially was connected to River, whose regret was palpable in his current state of pain. Bahram frowned, knowing well that if River had done what he feared he did, there was a problem with the young man that needed to be handled. He knew River was not a bad man, and yet hesitation nipped at his gut. “Lad, who of us here hasn’t done something awful? We are in a bloody prison.”

“But you… you didn’t think that I was….” A murderer. None of them thought that. They all thought he was an innocent, feeble child, worthy of their protection and love. What would they do en they found the opposite was true? “I’ve done so many t-terrible things. I swear that I never.. I n-never wanted too, Bah. I never wanted too.” With a shuddering gasp, River grasped the other man’s arm and shook his head feverently. “I’m a m-monster, B-bah. I don’t d-deserve your f-f-forgiveness.”

Bahram wasn’t sure if he knew how to answer the distraught boy, relieved that he hadn’t seen the footage. Relieved that he didn’t have something to change his mind, no matter how stubborn he claimed it to be. No matter how firm. Encasing the entirety of the young man’s hand in his, he gave it a gentle squeeze and tried his best to express affection through the gesture, through whatever expression his demeanor was twitching into. “It’s not like you get off on the act, lad. Sometimes we make bad decisions in the ring. I’ll let ya know, I’ve smashed a few heads in my days.” Proving his point, Bahram gently bounced is forehead against the boy’s head, reaching around to give his back a pat, forcing him to straighten. “Lad, you are the farthest from a monster. Out of all of us, least you have regret.”

A strained laugh fell out of River at the gentle head bump, and the pure support radiating from the hand upon his. This laugh was followed by a squeak as Bahram clapped his back, posture instantly straightening. He desperately wanted to believe Bah… that he wasn’t a monster. But that was exactly what he had been made into, crafted like a work of art. Though it was true that he felt regret. Tons of it, in fact. So much it was damn near suffocating. Still, River forced himself to nod along, to try and furiously believe Bah’s words. “T-thank you.” River whispered, brushing away the last of his own tears. “You’re a g-good man, Bah… you don’t deserve t-to be here.”

Seeing the boy straighten up, Bahram forced himself to mirror the posture and he placed a sheepish hand upon his neck, the gentle clamp heating his skin unpleasantly. Regardless, a hoarse chuckle tumbled from his throat. “Aye, no problem lad. I think we all need to hear that we are human every once in a while. Just know that you aren’t a monster, lad. And if you ever feel you are, just remember that you never have to feel or act that way. You are a good kid.” Pressing his thumb to the boy’s nose, Bahram gingerly released him and rested his head in his palms. “Aye, that ain’t true lad. I broke a few faces, destroyed a few groins, stole some illegal crap. Ya could call me a menace.” He hummed, sending the man a wink. “If only I could have stolen a car too, or do something more glamorous. Then again, I wasn’t intending to get caught..”

River’s breath hitched in his throat as Bahram pressed a thumb to his nose. At first, the action had him stunned, along with his words, which were all exactly what River needed to hear. But after a moments silence on his part, a hesitant grin split his lip, only to flicker away as Bahram palmed his own head. A flash of worry crossed River’s visage, but dissipated at the wink. “But you p-probably did all that f-for good reasons,” He offered weakly, smiling lightly. “I don’t think s-stealing a car is much more glamorous, anyway.”

Bahram hesitated with his next action, noticing that River appeared to be somewhat taken aback by his motion. Bahram hadn’t even considered whether or not River would have been comfortable, thinking only back to people he knew long before River. Even his own cellmate and his petite ami he had been, well, not very considerate. Swallowing, he noted that River seemed to have relaxed and Bahram merely reminded himself to be cautious the next time he considered affection. “I mean, I suppose it was for a charitable cause. My dumbass business partner got his ass handed to him because of drugs, had to go bail him out. But hey, if I had hopped on someone’s motorcycle, I could have Mission Impossibled myself out of there, and then get arrested.” Chuckling gingerly, Bahram bobbed his head. “In retrospect, I think I was the most idiotic convicted felon.”

“That’s all t-that got you in here?” River said, shaking his head. “For t-trying to h-help someone. That’s what g-got you imprisoned.” He shook his head, teeth gritted. ”Cabrones.” River stared ahead a moment, shaking his head even though his gaze seemed to be somewhere far off. “You’re not the most idiotic.” After one more moment of looking into space, River rubbed his eyes to bring himself back to the present. He glanced at Bah, something on the tip of his tongue, before letting out a soft sigh and allowing himself to rest his head upon the larger man’s shoulder. “I k-know it’s bad. But I’m g-glad you’re here anyway. S-s-selfish… but I’m just… glad.”

“Well, that and I may or may not have stolen a suitcase full of drugs because my partner told me it was stolen money.” Bahram threatened to blush at the memory, deciding it was for the better that he did not bring up the child abandonment issue that the prosecution decided to slap onto his sentence after his partner’s wife went into berserker mode. “You’d be surprised, lad. My crime sounds like the beginning to a dark sitcom.” Bahram planned on adjusting himself, however, River’s head collided with his shoulder before he had a chance to move. Bahram wasn’t going to take that chance again, instead placing his hand and encasing the back of River’s head. “It’s not selfish, lad. I’m glad I can be here for you.”

“If we're comparing idiotic crimes, I think I win…” Luca's voice came from the doorway, where he'd paused for a moment, with Chloe, to allow the two to finish their conversation. He hadn't seen the fight either, but rumors had already begun to circulate and he knew something rough had gone down. Hand around Chloe's gently brushing along the spine of her thumb, he continued towards River and Bah, “Tried to avenge my brother and ran into a pole…” He added, with a note of dry amusement, “How you holdin’ up, Riv?”

River allowed himself a moment of peace upon Bahram’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed out of pure exhaustion as the man spoke. His voice was soothing, and the hand on the back of his head was supportive in more than way. To allow himself a pause from the turmoil, the grief, was hard enough as is, but maybe, for once… He deserved it?

The new voice snapped him out of his daydream. Posture becoming rigid, River frantically scooted back, gripping the fabric of Bahram’s shirt tightly as his gaze flickered between the two visitors. Chloe. Luca. What if they saw, what if they hated him now, what if they told Bah? River let go of Bah’s shirt at the thought, panic gripping him. ”Tu sabes?” River whispered, looking at Luca. “Have you seen it?”

“Oi, they couldn’t have seen it lad. Too busy makin a family.” Bahram reassured, his voice heavy with sarcasm, yet affectionate all the same. Having been broke from the moment of peace, his head swiveled to see his cellmate and Chloe, hand in hand, both equally concerned for the young man on the cot. Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Bahra was able to meet their gaze and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Kid’s been through the ringer-don’t know the exact details, but I don’t think we should watch that footage, yeah?”

“M-my p-poor v-victim deserves the d-darwin a-award, try and b-beat that.” Chloe commented with a light smile, her feet shifting uncomfortably as she turned from Bahram to River, a bright hue of pink on her cheeks. “Jones. Shut up.” She grumbled, cautiously kneeling before the cot with Luca’s still hand neatly tucked into hers. “I-it’s okay s-s-sweetie. I-I think t-t-tonight s-sucked f-for all of u-us. Y-you don’t have t-t-to say a-anything.”

No he visto, pero he oído. Tu familia está contigo, hermanito.” Luca nodded to River, with a small, reassuring nod, “No sense reliving any of it…” He continued, looking between Chloe and Bah, “These games… this whole damn ship, it’s designed to mess with our heads. To break us. Romana’s twisted, that way. It’s why she wanted you in there in the first place, River. To make a good show of it. It’s why she put us in there with Hana and those kids. But you got time before the next fight to pull yourself together…” With a small sigh, he shrugged, “We’re all here for you, whatever you need.”

Wetness welled in River’s eyes all over again as the three reassured him. How they all could forgive him, River didn’t know… but he was endlessly thankful for it, for their kindness and love. His fearful posture relaxed, and River slowly resumed his position besides Bah and smiled weakly at Chloe and Luca through sniffles. “I hate her. Romana… I don’t want to fight. I don’t want any of us to have to fight…” He shook his head bitterly. “She treats me like some toy. S-she treats all of us like toys. I’m so sick of it.” Glancing up at Luca, then Chlo and Bah, River took a breath. “I just… n-need you to know that… what I did in that fight… I didn’t w-want too. I never w-w-wanted too.”

“If I could kiddo, I’d switch places with ya. You don’t deserve to be thrust into an arena for that bitch’s entertainment.” Bahram mumbled, anger that he didn’t realize was beginning to build in his digaphragm. “It’s gonna be alright though, River. I promise. You are gonna get out of this stronger, and I’ll go up to the woman’s office myself and choke her out if I need to to insure that. step at a time, alright lad? I know what happened isn’t you. And we can help you get through this. Just one step.”

“Bah’s right, River. All you can do is take it one step at a time. The fact you care, even now, it’s pretty evident you ain’t some kinda monster. And no one here thinks that about you. We’re gonna find a way to stop her… I dunno how, but we’ll find a way. All of this… this whole mess is on her, and I’m done playing her games. Got too damn much at stake.” His fingers curled tighter around Chloe’s, frown deepening, “We’ll figure it out.”

“One step at a time..” River echoed softly, rubbing at his eyes again. His gaze fell on the intertwined hands of Luca and Chloe and he smiled slightly. Strange how in a place like this had given him the happiest family he had ever known. “Thank you.” He murmured, allowing his head to fall against Bah again. “I’ve… never had… a family before. Maybe I would have.. g-gone to prison sooner, if I’d known I was g-gonna meet all of you.” He flashed them a weary smile.

“Y-you are a o-one i-in a m-million, sweetheart. A-anyone w-who disagrees I-Ill fight. O-or g-get Bah.” Chloe reassured him softly, a grin barely being able to be hid as River tucked his head against Bah’s large form. Bahram’s hand seemed to instinctively shoot behind River’s head, cradling it to his shoulder and humming a soft tune. “A-and d-despite being i-in H-hagur, y-you are a b-blessing i-in hell.” Chloe offered her free hand, eyes darting between the three men in the room. Ten years ago, had she been told she were to be stuck in a room with three male, convincted felons, she would have broken down and refused to move. Now she felt at ease, only warmth invading her. “I-if you e-ever, e-ever need us. We. Are. Here.” Pressing her hand over her heart, she bobbed her head and extended it once more. “A-and b-before I-I forget, I-I have s-s-something.”

“I’m glad you didn’t end up here, sooner, personally. ‘Least Romana hasn’t had time to work out all your triggers.” Shaking his head, Luca frowned in thought, “...Best bet right now, River, is to get through the second round. I hate to say it, but that might mean you gotta put a little trust in your team. At least inside that arena, they wanna see you alive, right?”

Snivelling, the smile on River’s face only grew as Bah’s gentle melody settled in on the room and Chloe continued. Tentatively he held out his hand to meet hers as she extended it, warmth bubbling in his chest. “Y-you have something? For me?” He echoed, brows furrowing as his attention fell to Luca. “A l-little trust with them will get me killed.” River muttered, shaking his head. “Wick… c-called me something… weird. A different name. Like I was someone e-else.” He shuddered. “They’re b-bad news. The both of them.”

“F-for once I-Im gonna d-disagree, Luca.” Chloe claimed softly as she briefly took River’s hand and squeezed it, brushing her lips across his knuckles and lowering his hand back down. “I-I k-kept f-f-forgetting to g-get it to y-you before t-t-the fight.” Eyes fluttering back in halfhearted annoyance, Chloe shuffled through her uniform, a tad pink as she plucked it finally from her pocket and gently deposited the gift into his hand. A small, crocheted dolphin laid on its side, a genuine smile rippling along her demeanor. “H-had a l-little time o-on my hands. F-figured y-you needed a w-welcome gift.” Pausing, she once again mulled over Luca’s words, her grasp tightening ever so slightly. “D-don’t t-trust. D-do what y-you can t-through the s-s-second round. Just...d-d-don’t s-submit t-to everything. O-okay? F-fritz is a-an ass and a h-half.”

“It’s just for the games…” Luca sighed, shaking his head, “Three teams in the next one, River. Hana’s not messing around, and hell if Pandora’s gonna let Fritz and Wick win, easy. If you go into this without any allies…” He didn’t wanna consider the possible outcome, but it was there, “Just keep it mind, okay?” His eyes shifted to the dolphin and a small smile formed as he looked to Chloe, “They hold up, pretty well… Still got mine from when I first got here.”

It was strange, to think that Hana was no longer an ally. But Luca was right… if there was anyone to rely on… it would have to be his own team. Even if they were two of the most untrustworthy people on the ship, Wick wanted something with him, and not his corpse. River supposed he should be thankful…

But the thoughts swirling through his head were soon silenced as Chloe placed the dolphin in his hand. River’s eyes widened, and a small, surprised squeak fell out of him as he held the little work of art as if it were breakable. “O-oh… Oh my god…” River mumbled, sniffling all over again. “Es muy bonito. I love it… thank you, thank you so much.” He stood quickly and threw his arms around Chloe, burying his face in her shoulder. “N-no one’s ever given me anything… I l-love it so much.”

“J-just s-stay away f-from Pan and H-hana, f-f-for right now. T-they are d-determined and I-I don’t want ya h-hurt.” Concern flooded the young woman’s cheeks immediately, fear for the young man going back into the arena for more cruel entertainment like a spear through her heart. Romana was a horrific bitch for getting them into this situation. For threatening River’s life. For putting him in the arena. He was nineteen years old. A child, still. “J-just b-be care-” Chloe’s words were stricken from her as River’s arms wrapped around her, his form slumping into hers as he thanked her for such a gift. Pressing a kiss to his temple and stroking his hair back in a motherly tone, Chloe chuckled. “You. Are welcome. Love. You.”

“Pan won’t come at you, and I doubt Abe or Switch will, either. They’ll am to tick, if they can, though, so--” Frowning softly, Luca shook his head, “You know what… We don’t need to talk about this anymore. Not right now, anyway. Just… get rested up and hopefully tomorrow won’t be so rough.” Looking to Chloe, he smiled faintly, watching the exchange with a renewed comfort, “We’ve all got your back, River. Whatever happens tomorrow. Don’t worry about Fritz and Wick, alright?”

Melting into Chloe’s embrace, River fully exhaled for the first time in a long time. For the first time in his life. The people that mattered most didn’t care about what he was… their endless encouragements had filled River with a warmth he’d never known, a sense of peace within himself despite all the turmoil. As Luca spoke, River’s hand shot out to grab him by the fabric of his shirt and yank him into the hug, nestling into the hold, his relaxed posture speaking volumes about what they’d done for him.

A small ‘omph!’ emitted from Chloe as another body collided into the embrace, and without a second thought she welcomed Luca with open arms, her eyes shooting over to Bahram. His cheeks were brighter than freshly picked cherries, a small grin on his face at the spectacle before him. “I suppose it wouldn’t be appropriate if I joined now w-” Without waiting for him to conclude, Chloe grabbed him by his collar and tugged him into the hug, content and filled with warmth as she held River in her arms, surrounded by the family that she had grown to adore.

“Y-you gonna c-crush me.” She cooed, already running out of breath(even though the experience wasn’t unpleasant). Bahram’s head briefly landed on hers before he pressed a kiss, going around to each head and repeating the motion.

“I’m going to crush all of you fairly.”

With a chuckle, Luca shook his head as he looped his arms around both River and Chloe. Respites. That was all these stolen moments were - he knew as much. Romana was a hateful, vindictive monster, and she wouldn’t be content until she’d crushed every last one of the. But damn it all if he wasn’t going to at least try to hang on… She would have to work a little harder to break him, completely.

Bahram joined what had swiftly become a group hug, and Luca’s chuckle turned into a small laugh, “...We just survived the damn Dog Fights, Bah… Try not to crush us, too bad.”
  • Love
Reactions: Mobley Eats

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Plucked Feathers | Interactions: Hana and Dudley | Location: Infirmary

A steady beep. Slicing through what she could’ve sworn was the emptiest span of space she could ever imagine. The void outside of Hagur couldn’t compare. Couldn’t dare.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

So loud. So regular. So deceivingly reassuring. The constant beatings of a heart--such a sound usually brought about the onset of life. The flag of triumph planted atop a massive hill--the writhing hands of defeat reaching fruitlessly from the muddy, sloped base. And yet…

Beep… Beep… Beep…

And yet.

Beep… Beep...

A whimper. Then a cry, followed by a far weaker one. Shaky gasps threatened to shred Hana’s throat like frozen daggers. “I’m s-sorry,” she whispered. Dudley’s hand, limp and mockingly warm, was encased tightly within both of her own. His body laid supine and still in the bed, his chest rising and falling. Barely. Just barely. Subtle enough to plague her every waking moment with paranoia and painstaking hope. But the latter sentiment was wavering and she found her strength waning with it, leaving behind nothing but the dread gnawing at her gut.


“I-I’m… the so s-sorry!”

So damned stupid.

Bungee was right--Hana was such a dumb woman. And weak. As soon as the foundations of her defenses buckled, gave the faintest tremor, she crumbled. She held the hands of her own undoing. Mother Hen of Hagur. No… she longer deserved such a title. She couldn’t find a single shred of conscience left to fight for it.

Her lips pressed feebly to Dudley’s fingertips. Doctors and nurses had each came to a single conclusion--a coma. The shock had charred the edges of Dudley’s metal plate, before surfing throughout his neurons and administering a heavy shock to his system. There was no doubt that he would awaken with something gone--memories, motor functions, anything--and that was if… If he would ever would wake up. As of right now, he could remain unconscious anywhere between a few hours or a few years.

Another sob nearly snapped Hana’s chest in two. What had she done? She knew of the consequences, fought so hard against them, and yet, she was so weak in the face of his pleas.

”Hey, Hana.” Dudley was suddenly next to Hana, his steps as soundless and steady as always. The woman would’ve yelped in surprise if she wasn’t so accustomed to it. Instead, she heaved a sigh filled with warmth and fussed with his hair, fingers skimming the metal plate.

“Yes, my child?”

His eyes were empty. Cold. But just barely exuding a spark of awareness. “Remind me what that feels like. Whenever you look at me like that.”

Sadness bubbled along her skin, but Hana was quick to answer him, whatever he wished. At least he still desired answers. At least he still had a desire to question things. “It feels like… this big of the pressure filling me up on the in of side,” she murmured, thumb still stroking metal, “And it the grows. More and more and more… until you are the afraid that pain shall come.” A soft and bewildered chuckle escaped her. “But all of there the is… It is the complexities of love, my child.”

What had he seen in that moment? What ran through his mind in the midst of electric overcharge? Were there more questions? Less answers than before? Flashes of images and memories and fuzzy depictions of a Dudley who once had an iron clasp around the ankles of thrill? Or was it… Was it fear? Was that what Dudley had wanted so badly?

Acid and bile broiled in Hana’s throat--

The Dog Fights. She had almost forgotten they were unfolding in that very moment. It was the third and final round, and her dear child River… “Oh, River…” A pained rasp filled the infirmary, strangely louder than the violence in her ears. However, as soon as uproars reverberated throughout all of Hagur, prisoners hooting and hollering with bloodlust, her eyes fell to the projection screen.

Just in time to see River deal the killing shot.

Hana’s grip on Dudley slackened. Air evaporated from her lungs, moisture bit cruelly at her eyes, and a single hand flew up to catch a gasp. “O-oh… oh no… No, no, no, no, no…” The woman shot to her feet, staggering on clumsy feet until the screen was inches away from her face. She reached out, trying to graze her child’s pixelated face.

“R… River… Oh, m-my poor child… No…“

Her children. They were all hurting, one way or another.

She failed as a mother.

Tags: CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , and KatSea KatSea

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Hopeless Desire, Part I | Interactions: Chiko and Amit | Location: Infirmary

“Hey, Ami?” Chiko scratched the back of her head, eyes falling to her newly healed ankle. “Uh, sorry. Ya know, about getting hurt and screwing everything up. That ten year shiz is good as gone now…”

Amit heaved a sigh, his head falling back gently to meet the wall. The pair sat propped up in their respective beds, a mere two feet away from one another. Perhaps a few inches less. The rest of the Dog Fights registered slowly in their minds and now that the third round was in action, only one of the two bothered to keep an eye on it. River was Chiko’s friend--and a dang nice dude all around. Of course Chiko would watch.

The terrorist, on the other hand, was far too drained to care. Not right now. All that mattered was that it was over. For him and Chiko. Her life was no longer in danger; Amit couldn’t say the same for himself, but still… When did his life ever matter to begin with?

He glanced Chiko’s way, then briefly down at her ankle. “...How does it feel?” he asked, dodging her apology completely.

Fortunately, Chiko was a veteran when it came to abrupt subject change, so she rolled with the punches like it was nothing. “Oh! Heh, no worries, Ami!” She patted her leg and flashed him a lopsided grin. “Good as brand spanking new! I’ve got, like, Jameel Jordan legs!” There she went referencing things that Amit didn’t have the slightest clue about; he had never kept up with American sports, especially not that of Michael Jordan’s great great grandson.

Regardless, Amit assumed this to be a positive thing, so he nodded and fell silent once more. He had acquired no worse than a few bruises and a light concussion, which the nurses had tended to diligently.

Unfortunately, Chiko wasn’t quite sure what to say either. The space around them was buzzing with the background noise of Dog Fights, hollers of Tributes and watchers alike vibrating against their eardrums. The young woman had questions--she always had them when it came to Amit. What was his favorite color? She had asked him that the first week she was transferred into his cell. It took weeks longer before she realized it was Mauveine, a… very specific shade of purple. But still, she had more questions. Questions that lingered in the back of her skull, stalkered under the guise of hyperactive imagination and supposed cluelessness.

Chiko wasn’t as naive as she let on. Well, okay, yes--she had her moments when logic slipped or her emotions took control of the wheel, but that didn’t mean she never thought about things. She was always thinking, at hundred upon hundreds of miles per hour. However, she never liked what those thoughts led to. They weren’t suitable for someone who had the reputation that Chiko did. It just wasn’t right.

But fuck… Fuck. She wanted to ask Amit things.

Her throat grew dryer than cotton. “Hey, uh… Ami?” Like before, Amit didn’t look her way, but he did grunt in response. That was good enough for Chiko to continue. “Don’t get me wrong, but I feel like you oughtta be more pissed about losing, ya know? That’s, like, fucking huge! Ten years!” She realized that her mood was spiking, a defense mechanism when nerves seized her, so she forced herself to reel back with an awkward cough. “Anyway--just don’t get it, ya know? You’re not gungho about it.”

Demeanor tinted a morose tone of exhaustion, Amit’s head rolled in her direction. His gaze and expression were unreadable. “What is your point?”

“Point is,” Chiko’s toes curled and uncurled tensely, “Don’t you wanna get out of here just as much as we do? This place is, like, a fucking bummer.”

The terrorist expelled a huff, clipped and bitter. He looked ahead again, taking in the third match with emotions equivalent to the void. The sight somewhat disturbed Chiko, but she couldn’t say that it was unfamiliar. There the few moments like these--when the man simply shutdown and retracted into himself. She never had the courage to jostle him from it…

Until now.

“Well? Don’t you?” she urged.

Amit’s eyes fluttered closed in tandem with his sigh. “Of course I do,” he admitted. His voice dipped into a whisper. “But I do not have the luxury to hope for it.”

Just as Chiko was about to ask what he meant, a polite knock traveled through the door. It slid open with a hiss, revealing the nurse that had healed them earlier. She approached with a pleasant yet professional grin, eyes falling on Chiko. “Chiko Grannis? You have a visitor requesting entrance.”

“Err…” Chiko and Amit traded uncertain looks before she muttered, “Sure. I’m always down to chill with anyone! Uh.” A pause, delayed realization striking her. “Who is it, by the way?”

The nurse straightened, her smile ever present. “Angelique Summers."

Tags: CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , KatSea KatSea
Last edited:

Elle Joyner

Invitation Status
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Music drifted on in the background, a steady stream of eclectic jazz from the radio on the nightstand, drowning out the noise of traffic beyond the hotel walls. Lying on her stomach, Cybil stared out the window, at the pattern the rain made against the pane of glass, glittering in the streetlamps. Beyond the pane was blackness, ebony emptiness, a sea of pitch, starless space. His fingertips trailed the length of his spine, tracing the inkmarks carved into pale skin, but she felt almost nothing. She had to tune it out. All of it. In the morning there was a job to do, and time was running out to break the news.

“...I think we should get married, Cyb…”

Twisting her head to the left, her piercing gaze struck the man beside her, and a frown crashed over her expression, a wave of disappointment, as she rolled her eyes, “Damnit, Icarus. You know that’s not possible… And anyway, why’d you wanna go and spoil a good thing doing something stupid like that?”

“Spoil? That’s not usually the general reaction to a proposal, sweetheart.” Drawing his hand through thick blonde waves, Icarus leaned back on his elbows, “What’s up with you lately? You’ve been kind of a drag…”

“I just don’t think this is workin’ anymore.” With a shrug, Cybil rolled over, pulling the sheets around her, “I told you when we started this… there were lines we shouldn’t cross. Just seems better we pull the cord, now… before somebody gets careless.”

“Somebody. You mean me. Damn, Cybil. That actually hurts…” His fingers reached out, brushed the hair from her forehead, tucking a lock behind her ear, and shivering, Cybil swatted his touch away.

“Mos has me on Deep UC, Icarus.” She finally muttered, eyes falling, as he fingertips smoothed out a fold in the fabric, “I’m… I might not be coming back.”

Swearing, Icarus pushed forward, coming closer to her, but Cybil pulled away, rising to her feet, “You don’t have to do this, Cyb… You don’t. Moses can send someone else. We’ve… we’ve been partners for years now. Why would he…”

“I asked to go.” Frowning, she looked away, “I can’t explain, Icarus. You just gotta know… you gotta know it’s for the best.”

“You’re serious…” Another soft swear escaped, and shaking his head, he rose after her, hand snapping out to grab her wrist. She didn’t pull away, even as he tugged her into him, a hand folding around her waist, “Cybil. We can run. You and me. We can just… just go. Hell. Moses doesn’t own us, right? Please. I… I l--”

Reaching up, Cybil pressed a finger to his lips, eye narrowing, “Don’t. Don’t you dare. Don’t you finish it...”

Pulling her hand away, Icarus narrowed his eyes, “I love you, Cybil.”

“..Charlie.” Her forehead crashed to his chest, her eyes closing as she shook her head, “I told you it wouldn’t work, didn’t I?”

“Yeah… two years ago. Hell if I listened then and hell if I’ll listen now.”

“I’m going, Charlie.” Leaning back, her eyes met his, “I have to.”

“Why, Cyb? What’s so damn important that you’d--”

“...It’s him, Charlie.”

“Miller? Cybil. You… you can’t take him on your own.” Reaching out, his fingers cupped her cheek, “Hell, why would Moses even take on a creep like that? He’s not our sort of ugly… by any stretch.”

“I… I asked Moses to look into it. To tell me if he found anything concrete. Charlie. This is the sick son of a bitch who killed my sister.” Her fists balled tightly by her sides, “And we’ve got maybe one shot at him. I have to do this…”

“So you’re gonna go get yourself killed… for what… vengeance?” Stepping back, arms dropping to his side, Icarus shook his head, “That’s a damn stupid game to play, and you’re not stupid, Cybil.”

“Good thing it’s not your decision, then.” Taking a step back, she raked back her hair, “I told you not to get attached.”

“Yeah… And I should’ve listened.” Glaring, Icarus shook his head, turning away from her. He crossed to the other side of the bed to collect his clothes. As he pulled them on, tugging his shirt down over his head, he glanced back at her, “I thought we had something. I really did… But you’ll never be any good for anyone, till you get out of your own damn way. I hope you get past this… Hell, I hope you live long enough to get past it…”

As he left the hotel room a moment later, shoes in hand, Cybil breathed in sharply, fighting the pang of pain in her chest as she swiped at her cheek. Cut ties. Tell Lies. You’re not a goddamn hero, Cybil Tash. You’re a ghost….
  • Sympathy
Reactions: Mobley Eats

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Hopeless Desire, Part II | Interactions: Chiko, Angel, and Amit | Location: Infirmary

Chiko stiffened. “Uh… Oh. Huh. C-cool.” Not cool. Not cool at all. She could’ve sworn a cold sweat was already rolling down the back of her neck, soaked up by the dirty collar of her jumper. She couldn’t fathom what Angel would want--and now of all times. After weeks of silence, why was she picking now to finally talk to her?

“Angelique?” Amit muttered, skepticism clear upon his face. Brow furrowed and lips stretched into a stern line, his gaze fell on Chiko. A silent question. Or, rather, an offer to stay if Chiko so pleased. He had no idea what sort of situations or relations she had with this Angelique individual, but he understood Chiko’s mood shifts. Just the utterance of this prisoner’s name had pumped Chiko’s muscles full of cement and nerves.

“Err… friend, Ami. It’s no biggie.” Chiko tried to wave off the look, but it persisted.

“That’s not what your tenseness says…” he said. The nurse stood off to the side, plastic smile sustaining itself against all socially acceptable odds as her eyes followed the back and forth like a ping pong match.

“It’s fine! I’m fine! Pshhh! Cool!”


“Dude! Seriously,” She hopped up and marched over to clamp a hand on Amit’s shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. She even slapped on a lopsided grin for extra measure. “I’m all good! Just gotta chat real quick. Mind stepping out for a teeny few minutes?”

Amit’s eyes narrowed, However, as soon as Chiko poked out her bottom lip and flashed insanely powerful puppy dog eyes, he caved with an huff and stood. “Okay. Ten minutes.”

“Thaaaaanks~.” Chiko waved goofily at the terrorist’s retreating form. As soon as he was out of sight, she nearly jumped out of her skin when the forgotten nurse spoke up once more.

“I’ll let her in, then.” She was doing so before Chiko could reply.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Was this really happening?! Chiko didn’t have the slightest clue how to present herself. Should she recline across the bed and feign nonchalance? Take the less sexy approach and just sit naturally? Stand there like a panicking dork (like right now)?! “Hoooo, Christ on rice! Um. Um. Um.” Scrambling, she settled for pouncing on the counter and leaning against it, arms folded and head tilted ever so slightly in a “cool” fashion.

Nevermind the needles and gauze that she had knocked over.

It was fine. Everything was going to be fine--

Until everything wasn’t.

All it took was five seconds for Chiko’s brain to short circuit, her brain completely fried. And smashed by a mallet into paste. She had always spotted Angel a fair distance away, fluttering about the mass of orange jumpsuits and burly forms, always hidden, always stealthy, always avoiding the naked eye--all but Chiko’s. She was always so damn beautiful, no matter what anyone said. Angel was always insecure about her looks and weight, but…

Goddamn. Even now, she was nothing short of a goddess in Chiko’s eyes.

Angel stood before the door awkwardly, her eyes landing on everywhere and nowhere. As long as it was a space that didn’t occupy a currently gawking Chiko. She cleared her throat. “H… Hey, Chiko.”

“H-h-hhhhhho damn wow--what?” Chiko babbled as she blinked rapidly, vying desperately to clear her head of the fog. Focus, Chiko! Focus! Face igniting a horrendous and bright shade of red, the hyperactive prisoner pushed off the counter and rubbed the back of her head, smiling nervously. “Uh. I mean. Hey! Wassup! H-how’ve you been, Angel? Good? Well, I mean, as good as you can’t get in prison butyoutotallygetwhatImeanI’mjustramblingandshit--

“Chiko! Breathe for me, hon,” Angel chuckled, her posture a tad less tense now. Chiko did just that; she inhaled a massive gulp of air, eyes widened as she abruptly shut herself up and curled her fists into the fabric covering her thighs. Another giggle escaped Angel, something playful dancing in her hazel eyes. “You haven’t changed at all.” Then, her features softened. “That’s damn good news, if you ask me.”

Chiko’s eyes lit up like fireworks upon hearing this, a wide smile splitting her cheeks. “Yeah? Heh, yeah! I guess so! I, uh, I’d def say the same for you. You… You look really good.” Against her own accord, she skimmed Angel up and down--and immediately noticed something.

It could’ve been a trick of the mind or an honest misconception, but she could’ve sworn Angel had lost weight since the last time they talked.

Which was months ago.

And just like that, some of the energy within her died. “Wait… Angel, I’m stoked to see you. Really… But what’re you doing here?”

A harsh breath expelled from Angel, her head hanging briefly in defeat. She should’ve known--Chiko was never one to pull punches or execute any topic with tact. She… hated to realize how much she loved that about the smaller woman. “That’s fair. That’s fair… I was watching you. You know,” she gestured weakly to where the projection screen used to be, though it was long gone now, “Dog Fights. You were…”

“Kinda all over the place?” Chiko said with a sheepish shrug.

Angel’s correction pierced the air between them. “Fucking awesome.”

In an instant, blood rushed to Chiko’s cheeks and she babbled a long string on incomprehensible sounds. The flattery was bound to drown her at this rate. “I-I mean, heh--Heh! If you, like, r-really mean that then, like, c-cool! Cool, cool. Awesome frawesome.”

“Fucking frawesome,” Angel said, her grin growing wider and wider with every dorky word flying from Chiko’s mouth. She almost felt bad for the woman and her lungs--was she sucking in enough air? “I’m taking that. We’ll make it a thing around Hagur.”

Unfortunately, Angel didn’t realize her mistake until it was too late. Chiko’s eagerness seemed to double. “For sure! We can get, like, a whole damn system going! Start off small with that Fuckyard dude, then work our way up through his network and shiz.”

Angel held up both hands and stepped forward. If she didn’t stop Chiko now, the woman would go on forever and get the wrong idea. The last thing she wanted to do was lead the woman on. She’d never wish that on anyone. “No, no! That was just a joke, Chiko. Listen, I just…” She heaved a sigh of pure exhaustion, pushing her curls back from her eyes. “I just wanted to check in on you. I-I saw all those CWE waves and your… your ankle and I…” A ball lodged itself into the back of her throat, moisture suddenly collecting in her eyes. “I was s-so damn worried about you.”

“R… really?” Chiko’s voice was small. Fragile. Teetering precariously on the tip of a needle, bound to fall from the slightest breeze. One wrong step. A gentle laugh escaped Chiko, perhaps partly in disbelief and partly in adoration. However, what she whispered next cleaved Angel’s heart in two. “Y-you jerk. You fucking jerk.” A pain long buried under excitable energy and obliviousness bubbled to the surface, her nostrils flaring with barely restrained emotion. “S-stop that. You’ve got no right to just… bust up in here and say shit like that.”

Angel took a shaky step forward. “...Chiko--”

“No!” An explosion. Abrupt. Sudden. Long overdue. “No, okay! I-I hate you. I freaking hate you so d-damn much! Why’d you have to go and, g-go and toss me aside like that?! Like I was old gum or some shit! I thought! I-I thought we had something! Was I just imagining all that shit?? W-was I fucking high?!” She pulled insistently at her earlobe, a tick Angel had memorized and committed to memory like an imprint on her soul.

“I would never throw you away! Chiko, th-that’s not fucking it!”

“Then what the fuck was it?!” She nearly keeled over from the agony that struck between them like a bolt of lightning. Her voice was no louder or harsher than before, but the loss and betrayal and confusion behind her words climbed to new heights. She was sick and tired of hurting in silence. Of bottling up all this toxic tar and letting it rot her insides more thoroughly than the hands of Time itself. “I miss you! I miss you so fucking much and I don’t want to!”

Angel’s lips trembled, her thoughts traveling at thousands upon thousands of miles per hour. She longed deeply for the right words. To soothe Chiko and explain everything. To tell her the truth. And yet, even as her chest ballooned with the origin of their suffering… she couldn’t utter it into exist. Bile bit at her tongue just thinking about it. All she could do was stand there and repeat pitifully, “Th-that’s… not it.. That’s not it… Chiko, I swear!”

Chiko rushed forth, hands entangling with Angel’s as she peered pleadingly into the woman’s eyes. “Just… A-at least say you miss me too.” A whimper rocked her lungs. “P-please. Don’t leave me hanging like this, Angel.”

Eyes red and glistening, Angel leaned down, gently touching her forehead to Chiko’s. Her reply proved to more tender than the heartbeat of a butterfly wing. “...I miss you more than I’ve ever missed anyone in my entire life…”

“Then why,” Chiko said, “Why’d you get r-rid of me?”

Angel’s eyes screwed shut. She shook her head. “I can’t, Chiko--”


“I can’t!”

In a snap of motion, Chiko ripped away from her, pure disgust flooding her being. “Th-then stay away from me! Keep avoiding me like the fucking plague or whatever!” Angel couldn’t help but wince at the separation and winced even harder as Chiko spat the word ‘plague’ like a deadly bullet.

“Chiko.” Angel tried to reach out for Chiko again, only for her to retreat until her back met the counter. Her grip around the edge was knuckle-white tight, but quivering and unstable. There was the stray twitch in her arm, the squirming of her fingers. Chiko was itching and buzzing again--Angel could tell. She always could. “Y-you’re still… Are you still--”

“What’s going on.”

Whatever Angel planned on asking was halted in its tracks as Amit entered the infirmary once more, his eyes colder and harsher than steel. He pinned her down with the iciest glare he could imagine after realizing Chiko’s state, standing protectively in front of his cellmate with his arms crossed. “You should leave,” he muttered. “Please.”

A plea to leave, but all Angel heard was a command. A warning.

Swallowing dryly, Angel glanced past him at Chiko, who refused to lock eyes with either of them as gentle hiccups wracked her body.

Hands curled into twin fists at her sides…

A pause.

Angel slackened. “I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She uttered his over and over, voice nothing more nor less than a weak whimper as she backed away. She slapped blindly at the door behind her and, shooting Chiko once last apologetic look, slipped out of the infirmary.

Another pause.

“Chiko? What happ--”

She collided into his back, hugging him tightly from behind. She buried her face into Amit’s jumper. Not a single sound escaped the woman and, for once, the terrorist couldn’t find it within himself to complain about his invasion of space.

So Amit stood there.

He stood there for as long as Chiko needed.

Tags: Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , KatSea KatSea
  • Sympathy
Reactions: KatSea


consistently inconsistent
Invitation Status
, , , ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Online Availability
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, No Preferences
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
only a game || abe

It had already been a month in this place. Honestly… it wasn’t… terrible. Maybe it was bad to say that. Abraham wasn’t feared, but there was respect for his name, what he’d done, the people he’d worked with. Twitch was secure, for now. Content. Content in a prison spaceship a million miles away from earth. From everything he had ever known.

He looked forward to only one thing. Her call.


His stomach fluttered. It always did. He wished he could see her face but her voice was enough, any part of her was enough. And now that he was gone, so far away, he was clinging on too tight to something he’d never had to begin with.

“Maya… Hi.”

Smooth. Very smooth. Could she hear the thumping of his heart through the receiver? He was a lost cause but she couldn’t know… what good would it do the either of them?

“Abe… listen to me. I… can’t call you again.”

Abe froze. His fingers curled tighter around the phone. It was impossible to describe the feeling of hopeless that settled in on him, plunging down his gut. And yet, a taunting voice in the back of his head hissed that he’d always known that this was going to happen.


“They all want me to cut ties. You’re gone, Abe. You’re dead to them.”

“You can still call.

“I can’t.”

But she could, she always could, she could do whatever she wanted and this just meant that she didn’t want too. Didn’t want him.

“I.. did… everything for you.”

“Oh please, Abe. You did it for yourself.” Her response was jarringly sharp, a different tone then her normally sickly sweet hum. There was no remorse in her words, and Abe reeled from the shock like a slap in the face.

“I covered for you. Said it was me. Said you didn’t do a thing.”

“I didn’t ask you too. And I didn’t ask you to go stealing the bloody crowned jewels, for christ’s sake.”

“I’m stuck here for the rest of my life because of you! Because of your fuck up! You were supposed to see him coming! You were supposed to-“

“Shut up! Don’t say another damn word.”

Like a fool, he didn’t.

“We both know you’re not going to change a thing. Because you’re too head over heels to ever throw me under the bus.”

She knew.

“Enjoy prison.”

“That’s it? After everything?” The words flew out of his mouth quickly, desperately, before she could hang up.

“You like playing games so much, Abe. You’re going to lose.”

“You weren’t ever a game to me!”

“That’s funny… because that’s exactly what you were to me. Don’t. Say. A damn. Thing.”


And he wouldn’t.


Skittish Beaver
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Perimeter Check Collab, Snowman Mobley Eats Mobley Eats

Did Snowman come close to running over a few prisoners? Yes. Yes, he did. But did he actually turn anyone into road (technically hallway) kill? No. No, he did not.

“Sorry,” Snowman called out, voice scratchy and softer than before. He really was running low on speaking power, but it paled in comparison to the joy rolling off him. The angry shouts and scowls prisoners threw at the cart merely fed his soul. He shot a cheeky grin at Archer, before trying to smother it with a bite to the bottom lip. “Sorry not sorry,” he said, a conspiring tone to his words.

“This is fucking awesome.” Despite this declaration of endearment and pride for the young man to be handling the cargo cart and nearly making a game out of who he could hit, Archer could not find the courage within himself not to dig his nails into his seat to keep him firmly planted. “Oh, you missed a few pedestrians there.” He commented, presenting an ever loving smirk, while an occasional bump would wrassle him from his train of thought. “You think we can get this ride more often? Feels luxurious compared to the endless amount of hallway trudging.”

Snowman took note of Archer’s anxious groping about and couldn’t fight the way his smile widened ever so slightly with amusement. He hummed curiously, blinking at one prisoner in particular as he nearly smashed into the man’s shin; however, he had managed to jump out of the way at last second and shouted a long string of curses at them as the cart sped away. “Did that make up for my failure?” he asked.

It was a tad disturbing how genuine he sounded.

Regardless, he shrugged and continued, “Mayyybe, maybe not. Honestly? My freedom around here might get a little tight soon, but we’ll see, Archie.”

“I give that shot fifty points. Make up for it with a one cart double kill.” Archer scoffed with a smirk, slowly uneasing his fingernails from the side of the cart and keeping them safely tucked against his lap. He had been wrong about his initial thoughts of the snowbird nerd. He was a lot more risky and dangerous than Archer had thought from the mute and stringy form he had seen once or twice. He honestly loved it, and for the first time in the eighteen months he had been there, he felt some surge of joy. Not null, or void emotion. Just...a weird bubbling of content. He didn’t know if he wanted to smother it or let it fester.

“Ah, don’t worry about that snow. We could always just say I kept you hostage.” He winked, the hints of his lips turning up to a smirk. “Besides, it seems impossible to keep ya seems.”

Just as Archer suggested a double kill, the front of cart knocked aside two more prisoners, one riding the hood for a few seconds before falling off and the other also taking a hit to the shin. None of the collisions were fatal since Snowman was cruising at a relaxed speed, but it was still funny as hell to hear the sounds of impact. The white-haired male grinned. “Fifty for moi.” However, his humor died a little at the hostage bit, but he managed to toss out a shrug. “Yeah, we could.”

He didn’t say much for the rest of the ride and actually decided to spare any further prisoner shins a reunion with the cart. He slowed to a stop at the Corner and hopped off, rounding around back to unfasten the crate.

“We gotta move this in there,” he said, voice a tad scratchy. He’d likely go back to signing soon, though he’d rather not. It felt liberating being able to properly talk with someone, though anxiety-inducing at the same time. Every nanometer of his being was screaming at him to shut up, to keep his words to himself or else… He shook the thought off, waiting patiently for Archer to assist him with lifting.

“Oh, impressive double shot. I think that’s a new record.” For a moment, archer considered the guards acting in such a childish fashion as Snowman, as to strike down prisoners such as him underneath the rubber tires that squealed in sync with their victims. For a moment, he wanted to laugh. The next moment he felt a bizarre emotion churning in his chest. Dis...disgust? Forcing saliva down his throat to cleanse the foreign agent, he leaned into the leather of the cart and prayed to whatever pagan God of go karts that was willing to listen.

The cart cane to a stop, however, jolting him from his seat. He forgot how much he loved crummy driving. He forgot how much he missed his wife’s beautiful cussing with each cut off. With each little swerve. The way her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. His lips against hers to cool down the emotion.

”Dont kill random pedestrians, love. I couldn’t live if I watched you rip that poor man apart.”

“You gotta admit, it would be pretty hot.”

“Not arguing.”

Breaking back into reality, Archer slipped from the cart and joined Snowman on the other side of the crate. Digging his fingers underneath the god forsaken, pile of God knew what. “Romana’s got something to compensate for...I think.” He grumbled miserably, heaving the crate from the cart.

Snowman snorted loudly at the little jab towards Romana. Oh yeah, he bet the woman had plenty to compensate for, no doubt about that. He was tempted to add his own little snarky comment, but the dryness of his throat was borderline playful, so he just settled for a silent giggle and hefted the crate into the Corner with Archer’s help.

Once it was settled down, he took a few moments to fuss with the lid, cracking it open with a wince. Eh, definitely a new splinter somewhere, but it wasn’t a problem. He lifted the wide lid and immediately peered inside, a long whistle escaping him. Damn, Romana. You crazy little bitch you~.

Snowman excitedly waved his friend over to see for himself.

Hearing the excited whistle from his friend, Archer bounced beside him and held his hands behind his back in patience. This had better be good. Perhaps a large bomb? A machine gun or two? Archer blinked and for a moment, he thought about hunting knives filling the brim of the container. Guilt threatened to nip his skull. However, as his eyes dipped towards the container, his jaw went slack. “You think Romana would miss…”

Oh… Oh yeah. Romana would definitely miss these, but by the time that she would--she’d be too late. Snowman’s smile widened so much that he flashed pearly whites and with an excited bounce in his step, he practically balanced himself on the edge of the crate as he reached in and pulled out what he needed.

It was no bigger than his hand and cylindrical in shape, the body a hollow glass container with metal lids on the top and bottom. Three hooked prongs expanded from the lids. In Snowman’s other hand was an even smaller touchscreen.

The mute handed over the little pod to Archer before signing, “Behold, our saving grace.” However, his expression fell a bit as he realize that the man likely didn’t know ASL and he promptly dropped his hands, a tad sheepish.

“The hell is this?” Archer questioned as the device was snuck into his hand, his fingers curling gingerly around it. His eyes met snowbird as he threw up...his hands? Oh! That is correct. He generally acted as a mute, and was most likely not summoning prisoners to shank him while Archer had his guard down. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t find the humor within him. “Stop with the gang symbols, snowbird.” He offered him a warm smirk, staring down at the device. “I think I saw a behold in there...what’s up?, and so you know, I don’t know ASL.” His shoulders bobbed. “I know the letters, though.”

Snowman playfully rolled his eyes, though he was pleasantly surprised to hear that he knew the alphabet. That was a start. Hell--it was far better than a start. It was way more than he could ever ask of a fellow prison that wasn’t Abe, who was bound to learn after living with him for so long. Slowly, he signed words in order for Archer to express a single word, “P. E. R. I. M. E. T. E. R.”

“One second...I remember this I swear to God…” Staring at the letters, he could identify a few. The rest were a little bit jumbly, and with pouted cheeks he approached Snowman, holding up his fingers and mimicking the word as he tried to spell it out. “P...E...Shit...sorry buddy I’ve been here a year and a half...R? Oh!” Swallowing his embarrassment, he inquired. “Perimeter?”

Snowman was patient as Archer powered his way through the signs and merely beamed as the word finally clicked for him. He nodded and gestured to the tiny touchscreen, turning it on with the ghost of a tap against an indent on the side. The screen flashed on and in tandem, a tiny blue light blinked on the pod’s lid. Connection was established. Now, if Snowman remembered correctly from Gram told him, these were basically the upgraded versions of the force fields that kept Tributes within the “simulator’s” area. But, of course, this one came with some interesting new features.

He fussed and toyed with some options presented to him on the menu, before honing in on Skin Palette. An endless array of colors scrolled across the screen, followed by a Mimic Skin and Transparent Skin. Curiously, he clicked the last one and watched as the pod rippled in Archer’s hand, then vanished from the naked eye.

“What the hell?” He questioned, watching the man with a weary eye fiddle with the object in his hand. How Snowman knew how to function these damned devices, he could never be sure. Perhaps it was his knowledge regarding Romana and her connection to Gram. “Wish we would have been buddies before round one…” Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he stared down at where the pod used to be. “How is this supposed to help us...Or am I really that much of a dumbass.”

Snowman held up his hands again. “R. E. V. O. L. T.” He spelled this out slowly, deliberately, eyes dimming more and more until a graveness entered his visage. This was the pinnacle, the tipping point for Hagur. Without them, without this step complete, he and several more lives wouldn’t be promised to see the day after tomorrow.

Dropping his hands, he took out several more of the pods, placed the lid back on the crate, and took a few steps back, waiting for Archer to follow. As soon as he did, he gingerly--with a cheeky smile--took the invisible pod from the man’s grasp and set it down, lining it up with the gap leading into the Corner. Fussing with the touchscreen some more, a muted whir emitted from the pod and a sheet of interconnected electroids came to life, forming a wall that cut off entry. Then, it also faded from existence. When Snowman peered through, he was pleased to see a completely empty corner, the transparency in effect from the outside looking in.

“What the…” Archer watched his new found friend scutter with the pod, placing it upon the crate until it vanished, leaving the crate from eyesight. However, Archer’s curiosity took the best of him and he laid his palm flat down towards where the crate had been...only to note a force keeping him from scraping his nails across the field. He skimmed his thumb across the invisible surface surprised to be blocked from the item in question. “Cloaking and forcefields, huh? What’s your plan then?”

Instead of giving out a clear answer, Snowman settled for a mysterious smile. It was as sunny as always, but the knowing inflection behind it was overwhelming. He handed a few of the other pods to him before connecting them as well to the same touchscreen. All of the pods shimmered out of view. He gestured back to the cart. “P. O. D. S.” A pause. “C. A. R. T.” And one more. “S. P. R. E. A. D. O. U. T.”

Archer found himself squirming in his own shoes at the beam from his snowbird, although there was some hint of comfort behind the motion. He knew what he was doing. It was just up to Archer to assist the man in his errand. Archer wasn’t always the man to shut up and listen, but his freedom was at stake. Snow nerd’s freedom here too…

Archer knew a monster when he saw one. He wasn’t sure if his newfound friend belonged in such a category. He didn’t expect sympathy to swell. He didn’t want to feel this. And yet...there it was. Eager. Overwhelming...Bizarrely human. He patted his chest. “Pods. Cart. Spread. I...I can do that, buddy. Anywhere you want in particular? Mess hall? Cells?”

Snowman didn’t bother hiding the radiance of his mood when Archie referred to him as buddy. That was definitely a new one and he welcomed it readily. Satisfied with the man’s compliance, he paced over to the cart and hopped in, manning the wheel once more. “Y. A. R. D.” Courtyard. “P. U. T. D. O. W. N.” Putdown Furnace. “M. E.” And the last one, he would take care of himself.

Hopping back into the cart, his brow raised with each new request. Yard. Putdown. Those two shouldn’t have been Yard would be more than simple. But when Snowman referred to himself, a pit of nausea settled at his throat. “Not that I don’t trust ya, snowbird, but what’s your plan here?”

Snowman stared at Archer, his gaze firm but as comforting as he could muster. He needed the man to trust him. And even more than that, he wanted his trust. Fingers tightening ever so slightly around the wheel, he released it once more to answer, “F. A. I. R. G. A. M. E.”

It was about time to even the playing fields. Or, more correctly put, split it in half.

“Fairgame?” He breathed lightly, trying not to express any horror that might have passed over his demeanor. He had a feeling Snowman would have somehow thrust himself fully into his own plan, still, there was a trace of worry at the corner’s of Archer’s lips Hanging his head, chin meeting his chest, he met his gaze with a small smirk. “I trust ya, snow nerd.”

Snowman downright jumped up and down in his seat, exploding with excitement at the confirmation. Yis--trust earned! However, he forced himself to calm down enough so that the invisible pods wouldn’t face the unfortunate fate of rolling off the cart, and patted the seat next to him eagerly. It was time to set off and complete their mission. Gram was relying on him. Both of them.

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Year: 2813
Location: Hagur-343 | Cafeteria
Time: 8:15 PM | Dinner Period

The piercing ring of Dinner Period sounded.

Onlookers for the final bout of Dog Fights Round One were still riding on waves of excitement as guards lead them to the cafeteria. Chatter and cackles and whispers echoed throughout the entirety of the ship. Some bets were settled, some had lost sourly, some had won in an unexpected turn of events, some were reeling from the board of winners, and most, if not all, were deeply anticipating Round Two.

But, for now, all that action had inspired a raging appetite, even for the unidentifiable gunk served to them as “food”.

The participants themselves arrived at varying times, all lead by an individual guard from the infirmary.

* * *

“Man, I am starving!” Chiko strutted into the cafeteria line, a reluctant but resigned Amit being dragged along by the wrist. The smaller woman was practically radiating waves upon waves of her usual energy, teeth displayed in a full out smile. Not even the thickest of tar could blemish her aura.

Which greatly unsettled the terrorist.

Mere minutes ago, his cellmate was a sobbing and broken heap of emotions clinging to his back. There was still traces of dried tears on her cheeks and a sore fuzziness to her eyes, but these remnants didn’t seem to bother her. He was tempted to inform her about how she looked, but something in his gut figured it’d be unwise to mention it--inconsiderate.

“What’re you feeling up for, Ami?” Chiko asked, snapping the man from his musings. He eyed the slop, steaming in the most unappetizing fashion possible, and openly grimaced. He shot her an unimpressed glare.

“Does all American diet consist of this,” he grumbled.

“Nope! Just up here, bud!”

Amit sighed. “Of course…”

With their tray of slop acquired, Chiko made a literal sprint in the direction of her usual table of friends, Luca, Clo, Bah, River, the whole shabang. “Woop woop! We’re here and still kicking, guys! Guess we’re like, touched by the gods or something.”

Then she paused, brow furrowed and lips pursed.

“...Oi, where’s Hana?” she asked, head swiveling about in search of the Mother Hen.

Meanwhile, Amit remained a good two feet behind, eyeing the group warily. He had no idea why his cellmate dragged them to the table, knowing darn well that none of them approved of his company. Unease fluttering up his gut, he started turning away, perhaps in retreat, though he’d never admit that aloud, and looked around for an empty table.

* * *

Welp, this sucked.

Switch had messed up. Royally. And she knew that. Best part yet--she was a damn lost cause when it came to fixing her own mistakes. Sure, she could toss out a guru spiel for someone else at the drop of a hat, but following her own teachings was an entirely different species. She was a damn hypocrite.

But still… it’d be nice if she could make up with Pan.

She had nervously avoided Pan and Abe up until the tray of food was within her hands, now hovering near their table while shifting nervously from foot to foot. All eye contact went avoided. “Err… Mind if I sit?”

God--she sounded like a kid. How long had it been since she spoke that way? Asking permission for shit? Timid? Afraid of rejection?

Not ever since home.

Shaking off the stray bitter thought, Switch cleared her throat, gaze awkwardly landing on Abe before diverting again. “I mean if I can’t that’s cool. Or whatever. I can just… go?”

* * *

Snowman was a tad too excited for his own good. But one couldn’t blame him; he had found a new friend in someone exceedingly unexpected and had no qualms about bragging.

Specifically, bragging to Gram.

Which was why the mute currently had this hands clasped pleadingly, looking at Archie with the strongest puppy dog eyes he could muster. He wanted the prisoner to join him and Gram for Dinner, just so they could meet. Perhaps, somewhere in the hindquarters of his brain, he longed for Gram to approve of Archer, to really seal the deal, but it was a stressful thought that he preferred ignoring.

A hint of cheekiness infected Snowman’s visage as he signed slowly, ”P. L. E. A. S. E.” The man fluttered his eyelashes as a cherry and icing on top of the cake.

* * *

Fritz had shooed off guards when they appeared for the purposes of guiding him and Wick to Dinner. There was no need. Besides, the moment they had shared in the infirmary was still fresh in his mind, throbbing temples and deep musings and all. That was… certainly a different side of his queen. One he’d never seen before.

A rare sight that he would hold dear.

And yet… the man couldn’t deny one thing--he needed time to marinate over it. Something about the vulnerability had triggered a part of himself that he had deemed long dead, and he was unsure if this reaction proved to be positive or… worrisome. A weakness.

Thus, having guards breathing down his neck would be an unwanted distraction from this internal analysis. He rather abhorred introspection, but could begrudgingly understand the benefits from it. He just never anticipated he would ever need to reap such benefits.

Regardless, he still entered with the regal power, with the same aura that he was known on Hagur for, and couldn’t help but bask in the respect that flooded from nearby prisoners. A respect bolstered by fear, some even impressed with their round against Bungee, Jumbo, and the eliminated Tribute. Fritz’s hand, which was settled comfortably on Wick’s waist, gave a gently squeeze as he chuckled lowly, “A marvelous sight, my darling. Don’t you think?”

“Fritz sir?” A guard walked up to the pair, standing rigidly before Fritz. He leaned in to utter quietly, “He’s been quarantined, just as you asked.”

“Good,” Fritz hummed, expression and voice distant, “Be sure to keep the intervals at twenty minutes maximum. I do not wish to kill him, after all.”

The guard nodded. “Understood.” And left just as quickly as he came.

Tags: CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , KatSea KatSea , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner


Skittish Beaver
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Malcolm Archer

As much as Archer wanted to present annoyance, to radiate an atmosphere of disgust and utter irritation towards the damned puppy dog eyes his snow bird was throwing him, Archer found himself slumping in defeat. Fucking kid. Had to throw the pouty cheeks, the little blink of snow kissed eyelashes. And Archer wanted to hate the man for sending his insides into manipulatable, vulnerable puppeteer strings that he could tug without effort. Well, organs. But the poet within Archer(which he wished he could inwardly stab, that was a joke, relax high strung assholes) insisted that a different term be used to further extract his point. Whatever the fuck that meant. The turmoil that lingered with Archer's stomach was quenched as he drummed his fingers harshly into his forearm, pretending to stifle a grumble as his brow pinched.

Placing his hand on the young man's shoulder and giving it a generous squeeze, Archer exhaled through clenched teeth. "Listen here, you goddamn snow nerd, you really think I have any other plans at dinner? Not like the pedophiles, dick choppers, or serial offenders with a heart of gold would appreciate my presence at their table. I...I really don't have any other plans besides futzing around." Releasing his shoulder and reaching up to give his snowy hair a tussle, Archer quickly stuffed his hands into his uniform. "Besides, I suppose it wouldn't be bad to be introduced into your boy toy~" Giving his fingers a gentle wiggle for extra flair, Archer's expression softened with a smile taking haven along the corners of his lips.

He didn't want to admit it, but the last time he had a proper family meal was on his own wedding day, Georgina's hand in his, Merrick's boisterous laughter flooding the air as Malcolm and him spat petty insults back and forth.

"Oh God! Mal you are a lightweight at best!"

"Chug chug, mother lover."

"Grown ass man and you can't even sa-"

"Shut up, fuckface."

"Love you Malcolm ~"

"Think your boyfriend gonna approve?" He inquired with a raised brow, gently jamming his elbow into the young man's ribs. "Not like I need another fellow serial killer's high end praise...although I don't know if I fit into the same category. Honest to God, the idiots who come up with the insults around here..."
  • Sweet
Reactions: Mobley Eats