Mission Mishaps: Oh Captain my Captain [Backdated to Sunday]

[littletonoidea]

[The video is taken from behind a giant pile of rope, just visible on the camera's edge before it zooms in on Flint and Levitt. The cameraman is silent, as Levitt shoves Flint against the railing.]

--lace to run. If you try, I'll gun you down in the back. But if you cooperate and face your execution like a man, I'll allow you a few final words.

[The scene zooms in on Flint, who very pointedly doesn't look at the camera. He just breathes deep, and bellows from the chest.]

DESTROY THE GAVEL. DON'T FUCKING ST--

[And he's interrupted by the deafening explosions from the machine gun tearing him to pieces and shoving him over the edge.

Not that the camera catches most of it, because there's a sharp yelp as Eiffel flails back with a sharp yelp of-]

Holy fuck--!

[-and the camera drops to hit the deck, bouncing and landing upright, and Eiffel's hand is back in view instantly, scrambling to grab the phone, and some errant swipe from fumbling fingers-

--cuts the feed.]


Spam

[Well, at least it wasn't a hand?

On the other hand, getting his left eye removed is way more painful than Eiffel would have ever anticipated, and he ends up spending most of a full day in the infirmary, getting his empty fucking socket cleaned and bandaged and taken care of, until he stops having a dizzy spell every time he moves his head.

But after that? Straight onto the oars. For three. Days. It's not so bad at first, until the realisation hits on the shift change when he's exhausted after the regular eight hours and his manacles don't come undone.

He learns in the second shift that a hastily scarfed meal, dense as it is to make up for the energy losses, makes him vomit. He learns in the third that bandages have a finite amount of sweat they can absorb before it starts seeping into his newly made facial cavity. He stops keeping track after that.]

Comments

For Levitt

[littletonoidea]

[Continuing from here.]

Eiffel's a little too slow, fumbling the device as panic overtakes him, so when he finally drags himself back to his feet with the pile of rope, he's in full view of Levitt, and freezes.

"...heeeeey, Mister Robot-o! You're, uh- you're out here kinda late, aren't you, just- y'felt like some fresh air after the whole Toy Soldiers debacle?" One foot shuffles back automatically, and then he's backing away, hands gesticulating wildly with his totally-not-bordering-on-panicking keen. "Sure, me too, it's all just- blood and guts and- y-you know what, I don't think I've seen a single scrap of glory so you know what? I'm gonna keep looking I'll just be off now bye--!"

And he's going to turn and bolt for the nearest door to get back downstairs.

[lealte]

Behind the helmet, Levitt raises an eyebrow at Eiffel's babbling. But he can't convey any expressions through the armor and it's just a flat and unchanging metallic gaze that's fixed on Eiffel.

And then he runs. And Levitt's not entirely sure yet what he's done aside from being a Prisoner and watching Flint's execution, but if he's running then he probably did something and that's enough for Levitt to give chase.

[littletonoidea]

He's running because Eiffel is not a creature of tremendous forethought and is largely a self-admitted coward, and is fully under the assumption that if he gets caught he will also be gunned down.

He's also under the vague panic impression that he can outrun the giant mecha suit. The power of pants-wetting terrified thinking.

[lealte]

Levitt tears after him at full speed, Advocate baton out and ready to (painfully) stun Eiffel as soon as he's within range, find out what he was up to. The minigun could also stop him from running, but in a way that's a little too permanent.

[littletonoidea]

Eiffel does not take much effort to catch up on, and the baton sinks easily into the back of his shoulder - his surprised yelp turns into a choked noise of pain, dropping immediately to his knees before he falls flat on his face with a weak grunt.

Ow. Everything burns and when he tries to push himself up his shoulder is killing him, and he can't- move right, everything is tight and hurty.

[lealte]

Levitt gives Eiffel another sharp jab of the baton on the same shoulder. To keep Eiffel down, he tells himself. The satisfaction at Eiffel's pain is incidental.

"What were you doing there?"

Video

[notsoblackbeard]

Well. That fucking sucks.

spam

[tarakan]

[ It's longer than expected before Hilbert can find Eiffel by himself. The man's at the oars for an exceedingly long time, probably due to that post he made. Hilbert is very quickly coming to the conclusion that he's one of...what, less than five now, Barge people who haven't been mauled or mutilated in some form. He'd like to keep it that way.

And yet.

Immediately after the third shift, Hilbert's there, waiting outside, ready to grab Eiffel's hand and forcibly drag that man back to his room if necessary. ]

Come with me, [ he growls under his breath. ] Bandages soaked through, gauze needs to be replaced. Supply is dwindling, but I have enough to manage you

[littletonoidea]

[The only reason Eiffel hasn't passed out from exhaustion is because he's fallen into that sweet, dangerous spot where 'just keep swimming' meets 'if you die in the game you die for real' - as long as he maintains momentum, he'll be fine. And if he doesn't... he's too tired to care.

So there's no energy left in him to stop himself from being dragged along by Hilbert, barely enough to lift one foot in front of the other, and when he tries to blink sweat out of his eyes his empty socket burns.]

...Hilbert? Wh... [He'd love to finish that sentence, but most intelligent thought slipped away about three shifts ago, and trying to draw on his extensive vocabulary makes him stumble as his single remaining brain cell tries and fails to manage both tasks.] Shit...

[tarakan]

[ The good thing about a groggy Eiffel is that he's easy to manhandle. Hilbert doesn't say anything. Instead, he yanks on Eiffel's hand, dragging the man back to his room. Cell? Room. It is better to think of it as a room.

It's only when they're in the room that Hilbert closes the door, frowning slightly as he gives Eiffel a once-over. ]

Retaliation for your broadcast, yes? Sit on bed. I will replace gauze pad and change bandages.

[littletonoidea]

[When Hilbert lets him go Eiffel very nearly keeps going, before he suddenly realises there's a wall there and he catches himself awkwardly with one hand. Both palms are fully scratched up, blistered and bleeding, his already-bloodstained t-shirt and jumpsuit are completely damp with sweat and other fluids, and there's very much some yellow-pinkish staining on that gauze pad over his eye.]

Uhm... y-yeah, uh. Something like that.

[With the bulk of those bandages he has to turn his head nearly all the way to even spot the bed, and he pushes himself along the wall until he can slump into the bed and sinking against the wall.]

Really freakin' stings, Doc...

it's just gonna be cw: gross eye trauma for the rest of this thread

[tarakan]

Of course it stings, [ Hilbert points out, with a disgruntled little frown as he starts to remove the bandages from Eiffel's head He doesn't have much in the way of bedside manner, but he is at least trying not to rip the man's hair out or dislodge the inevitable scabbing too much. ]

Like I said. The Judge does not settle for functional. Functional would provide you with pain medication and proper eyepatch you desperately need.

[ Eventually, they get to the gauze. And Hilbert's going to be exceedingly gentle with that, even by his standards. Because if his eye socket has leaked or created enough pus or what have you to make that sort of stain? It'll be a bitch when he removes the gauze. ]

Eye horror fun times!

[littletonoidea]

The constant tactile sensations are good for keeping him present, but it's still thoroughly unpleasant, and there's more than a few quiet, grossed-out mewls from him as the bandages are moved.

He slicks his greasy hair off his forehead as best he can when they get down to the gauze, trying to keep it clear for Hilbert, but that just makes it more obvious that the gauze is fully glued in place by crusting blood and what-have-you liquids; and when Hilbert does manage to remove a corner, the only good thing they can say about it is that it doesn't smell.

It does leak, an ugly mix of something clear with fresh blood, because oddly enough Eiffel's wound doesn't look healed at all, and Eiffel jerks back with a thick gag at the sensation of gluggy contents dripping from his eye. It's still wet and fresh-looking inside the socket, as fresh as the day it was cleaved out.

Or, just maybe, like it's trying to heal.

Spam

[reformedsinner]

[Gonou isn't in much shape to go looking for his friends, but after he'd heard from Xie Lian that Eiffel was captured after his video--

He's been worrying. And Eiffel is someone whose gait he does know well enough to have a shot at recognizing his footsteps. He's listening for them. He still almost lets the person with the dragging, exhausted steps go past unremarked in the hallway as he's heading to the mess hall several days after the revolution, his good hand on the wall to avoid walking into anything.

But there's something familiar-- he turns his head, ears rising.]

Who is that...?

Re: Spam

[littletonoidea]

[Eiffel isn't quote a dead man walking, but he's so exhausted from three straight days on the oars that he might as well be. He's not particularly aware of his surroundings or other people, in any greater capacity than making sure he doesn't crash into them, but when he sees something in his peripheral stop, and the familiar voice...

He snaps out of it enough to stop, and stare, because.

"...holy crap." His own voice is breathless and ragged, but unmistakable. "Gonou?"

Re: Spam

[reformedsinner]

"Eiffel?" Gonou hasn't started his own stint on the oars yet; the stump of his left hand needs to heal enough to bear a prosthetic before he can be sent to row with it. He's doing his best to keep his injuries clean and bandaged, but the gauze wrapped around his head and over both eyes is crooked and the bandages over his wrist are bloodstained and awkwardly secured.

Still, he smiles at the sound of the other man's voice. Eiffel's alive and on his feet, no matter how much his feet are dragging. That's -- something.

"Are you all right?"

Re: Spam

[littletonoidea]

"I am..." He looks Gonou over, noticing the crooked bandaging over both eyes, unable to miss that missing hand. "...so not gonna complain right now. Hey, I'm-" His footsteps start again, approaching Gonou and accompanied by the scents of sweat, overwhelmingly, but blood and a few other bodily fluids besides. "-I'm gonna come over and touch you, okay? Um, three two one--"

And he stops directly next to Gonou, putting a hand on his shoulder blade, forearm pressing lightly, just a light, warm press of contact.

Re: Spam

[reformedsinner]

"Oh, I'm okay," Gonou says, smile tugging up at a wry angle; now that he's closer, Eiffel smells of sweat, blood -- a little of vomit, too. But his hand is light and sure enough (and present, of course, another point of relief.)

"Thank you for the warning," he adds, turning his head towards where Eiffel must be. "You were--" Sweat and vomit. "On the oars?"

[littletonoidea]

"Yeah, uh. Yeah, three days straight, except for like. Meal breaks." And a fat lot of good they were, too sore to eat and too hungry to keep it down. "I don't think this was my, uh. Finest moment of rebellion," he adds, but there's a weak smile to his voice.

Spam

[lealte]

[Inside the power armor, Captain Levitt is six and a half feet and a couple hundred pounds of fuck up your day. Outside the power armor, he's almost a foot shorter, wiry and watchful, eyes always flicking about taking note of his surroundings. He'll still fuck up people's day if he can, but it's a lot more difficult.

He strolls down the bank of oars, hands clasped behind his back, and pauses at Eiffel's seat.]

Regrets?

[littletonoidea]

[It's funny how much less threatening the guy is without the fancy suit. He doesn't look up when Levitt approaches, but he manages to gather enough air to speak clearly.]

I think... I like you better with the helmet on. Easier on the eye.

[lealte]

I'm glad you appreciate the design of the West Tek X-01 Mark IV after having a close up view of it. I agree it's an impressive piece of equipment.

[littletonoidea]

Yeah, sure, sure. Just. [He turns his head enough to see Levitt with his remaining eye.] Didn't know you could get strap-ons that big. But [And there's a tired, slightly delirious giggle to his words.] You're doing an amazing job fucking us with it, so. I guess size doesn't matter, right?

[lealte]

[Levitt raises one brow slightly.] I'll take that as a compliment. Or an acknowledgement of fear. Either way, I'm flattered.

[littletonoidea]

You're not such a big man outside the suit. I could take you.

[Says the absolute pacifist, who did not once attempt to fight back during their entire debacle and merely fled.]