Communications Officer Doug Eiffel (
littletonoidea) wrote in
thegalley_tlv2022-08-17 01:22 pm
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Mission Mishaps: Oh Captain my Captain [Backdated to Sunday]
[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.]
--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.]
For Levitt
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.
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Video
spam
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
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it's just gonna be cw: gross eye trauma for the rest of this thread
Eye horror fun times!
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Spam
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...?
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Spam
He strolls down the bank of oars, hands clasped behind his back, and pauses at Eiffel's seat.]
Regrets?
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