#Author Jack is drowning in work this week--so I apologize if I take a bit to respond to anything!

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Axel: Say “No” to Cruise Ships II

           “Everyone has to do something to prove their commitment to the cause,” Chris Rodriguez said. His Spanish accent was raspy, almost nasally, pronouncing every “s” like mispronunciation meant a whipping. Axel guessed his family was from Northern Mexico. The neutrality of Chris’ English made Axel also guess that Chris had lived in the States for most of his life.

         Axel was relieved that Chris didn’t ask about his or Ajax’s accent.

Chris towered over Ajax and was about level with Axel’s height. His dark eyes looked nervous. Sweat shined his brow in the backstage’s dim lighting. His hands shook as he sorted through a weapons rack.

         The roar of a distant crowd made Chris flinch.

This was their “techie.” Other monsters and humans that they had passed referred to Chris as the “backstage guard.”

         Axel wasn’t sure exactly what Chris’ job description was, but one thing was clear: Chris wanted to be here as little as the Pax brothers.

         They had passed too many people and were too deep in the ship to make a successful break. From what Axel could tell, this backstage was for one of the ship’s biggest stages. The audience’s engaged screams made it sound like there were at least a hundred people—creatures?—out there.

         “It used to be easier. I got grandfathered in back when all you needed to do was recruit another person,” as Chris spoke, he sifted through a pile of miscellaneous armor. Most of it looked like something from Ancient Europe—like from that Xena show. “Then, they would send new campers on quests, but most of the quests available now are on permanent hard mode and they can’t afford to send newbies out.”

         Axel turned down a bronze breastplate that Chris tried to hand him and opted for a leather one. The armor and weapons weren’t props. A sickening twist in Axel’s stomach hinted at what was about to happen.

         “I didn’t realize we had to prove ourselves to be safe here,” Ajax said, his voice trembling. When Axel refused to take Ajax’s hand during the walk with Morpheus, Ajax had hugged himself.  He perked up upon seeing the backstage, somewhere that felt familiar to both of them.

         Axel had to remind himself this wasn’t going to be a fun experience. There were so many happy memories associated with the stage. Normally, the giddiness of being backstage would make Axel squirm with anticipation. He remembered how Uncle Frasco would poke Axel to mess up whatever paint or costume he wore while Nilley, his mother, tried to fix them. She would shot Frasco death glares and he’d wink at her. The nostalgia made Axel’s nausea worse.

Those days were gone, forever.

         “Safe…” Chris echoed Ajax’s word. “Yea. Well, you came in just in time for the new experiment: fighting.”

         Ajax puffed up his cheeks and popped them.

         Axel resisted the urge to do the same. The entire Pax family tended to do that when nervous.

         This could be good news. Their dad had been forcing them to train for the last few months. Axel and his little sister, Lapis, had particularly excelled. “What kind of fighting?” he asked. Axel picked up a sword, testing its balance.

         His father didn’t like swords. It made Axel like them even more and think of them as a hero’s weapon.

         “Uh, to the death,” Chris said.

         Axel knew it was coming, but he still puffed up his cheeks and popped them at the same time as Ajax.

         His little brother’s breath became tight. “Mom didn’t mention that,” he squeaked.

         “They just implemented it. This is kind of an experimental round to see what kind of ratings it gets,” Chris explained. He handed Ajax a javelin that was several feet taller than him.

         Axel did not like the word “ratings.”

         Chris paused, frowning. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Had you come in earlier, it might not have been so bad. Just a centaur or something. But…” He swallowed. “You might want to say your goodbyes now. You’re going to die.”

         The regret on Chris’ face told Axel something very useful. There was some hope. Chris didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want Axel and Ajax to die. Maybe, Chris could help them get out.

         “And if we refuse to get on the stage?” Axel asked. He pulled his shoulders back to stand as tall as he could.

         “Then I will eat you.”

         Axel would never admit that he jumped, but the bear man startled him. Agrius stepped out from the stage’s back entrance, where Morpheus had left them with Chris and where Chris confiscated Axel’s gun.

“You’re either with the cause, or you’re monster feed.” Agrius seemed to be reconsidering his opinions on jalapeños. There was a line of drool sliding out of his snout.

         “How generous,” Axel said, trying to keep his expression neutral. His little brother might get hysterical if he thought Axel was afraid.

         Chris took a step away from Agrius, eyeing him. When his gaze returned to Axel, he shrugged apologetically. “Normally, it isn’t this bad. You just got really unlucky. Like, mother-load unlucky. We were running out of expendable monsters to throw at this guy.”

         Someone poked their head around a burgundy curtain hanging against the wall. Even in the dim, backstage lighting, Axel could tell the older boy had brilliant red hair that dangled a little too long against the boy’s long, pale nose and freckles. He flashed them a charming smile. From the dart of his eyes and the quiver of his hand on the curtain, he looked nervous.

         “Are you up next?” the boy asked.

         Chris answered for them. “Yea, they’re up next—”

         “No,” Axel cut him off. He hefted up his sword, hoping the stage props he’d handled in the past would give him some familiarity with the real thing. “Ajax stays here. I’m going out on my own.”

         “Uh…” Chris said skeptically.

         At the same time, the redhead hopped once. “Oh! You must be good. What’s your name?”

         Axel glanced down to where Ajax had burrowed against Axel’s back again. His little brother peeked curiously around to see the newcomer.

Agrius stepped uncomfortably close, licking the drool off his teeth.

         Axel didn’t know if he was or wasn’t good. All he knew was that he had to be good to get Ajax out of here. There wasn’t an option. “Axel. Axel Pax,” he said, puffing up his chest to look confident.

         “No, like, your stage name,” the boy said.

         Ajax leaned further around Axel’s elbow to ask, “What’s the scariest and biggest cat they have in Greece?”

         The redhead, Chris, and Agrius all glanced at each other.

         “Uh, a lion, I think?” the redhead said.

         The temptation to elbow Ajax in the head was fierce. When Axel glanced down at Ajax, he saw his little brother’s desperation. If Axel was going to be the big hero, he needed to do everything right, including have a cool moniker. Just like their old performances, he would have to go out with a bang.

         Axel swallowed. “So, this guy, the one I’m fighting, is a big deal,” he said, gesturing towards the curtain containing the stage. “When I defeat him, my brother will not need to prove his worth. When I beat him, it will be admittance for both of us.”

         If Axel kept saying “beat him,” he might start to believe it.          

         The redhead’s smile widened, turning goofy. “Yep. I can do that. I hope you win.”

         The older boy examined Axel and his little brother for a moment too long.

         Then he disappeared behind the curtain.

         Roaring erupted outside.

         Agrius shoved Axel forward, towards a different section of curtain.

         There was no time to prepare. Axel had meant to give Ajax a hug, or tell Ajax the best route to run if… if something… if he—

         Stage lights blinded him.

         The typical rush of going in front of a crowd made Axel’s heartbeat increase. Heat washed over him.

         One thing solidified: he wasn’t going to let Ajax lose another family member without getting to say goodbye. One more reason that Axel had to live.

         When Axel’s eyes adjusted to the brilliance of lighting, he jammed his feet into the floorboards. His breath became short.

         There was a massive, doomed cage encasing the center of the stage. It was igloo-shaped. The only tunneled entrance was the one Agrius shoved Axel through. The bars were spaced far enough that Ajax might be able to squeeze between them, but Axel couldn’t, even if he’d practiced more contortionism. The space was maybe thirty feet in diameter with the highest part of the cage ten feet off the ground. Ropes dangled from the rusted bars with swords, spears, and axes, if Axel wanted to reach up and change weapons.

         Axel hated cages.

         He tried to keep a rhythmic count in his head, to ease his breath and mimic the count. That was what his Uncle Frasco told him to do whenever something scared Axel.

         The cage is a backdrop, he thought. Focus on the main event. Focus on the main event or you’ll never make it through the show.

         He would have frozen up in fear if someone hadn’t moved in the center of the cage.

         The first thing Axel noticed was the armor. His opponent’s breastplate gleamed with pure gold. There were medals of honor decorating his chest. When the man rose to his feet, a tattered, reddish-purple cloak fluttered around his ankles. If Axel had to guess, the man was at least eighteen and six foot three. His chestnut skin glistened with sweat and blood. His dark eyes bore into Axel with the patience of someone who knew they had already won the fight.

         “What’s this?!” came a voice outside the cage. The stage extended a few more feet, allowing the redhead to walk along the edge like a show host. “Jak-Jak back here to say: we have a surprise last minute entry against Praetor Julian, son of Mars! Meet Axel the Lion!”

         The audience screamed.

         It almost drowned out the sound of a cage door slamming shut behind Axel and the way Ajax shrieked in panic, “B-but that guy is huge!”

         As Axel staggered forward, struggling with claustrophobia more than the fear of fighting this guy, all he could think was, That is a stupid stage name to die with.

 ***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D

[cyrelia-j]

[fic] Undertow 1 (Jack/Parmak)

So what have I been working on? Another stupid WIP :D Couldn't get DOM!Kelas out of my head after drawing the new blog header (and also after talking with @borg-apologist ) so thought I'd mess around with a little AU with Parmak visiting the Institute in Season 7 and meeting our boy Jack. In this Jack is more gray ace and I was excited to explore more kink with him so here goes.

Warnings: None for this part except Jack's usual disjointed thought, Jack/Parmak overall and a bit of praise kink

“In one week, you’ll kneel for me.”

Jack plays the words back in his head, a small counter having already started in his head from the time that he met the Cardassian doctor known as Kelas Parmak. The counter was a conscious counter, but it appeared when he asked his innermost thoughts how much time had passed. It’s been one hour, thirty three minutes, and four seconds. It keeps counting as he pulls the old doctor back to mind, pulls every piece of him perfectly and Precisely as he stands on the table rocking back and forth on his heels, staring out into the distance while he… Considers.

Kelas Parmak age one hundred and five (mind converting the number to approximately fifty two in human years though possibly as old as sixty one as Imprecise as the conversations are) stands as tall as Jack but possibly taller if it weren’t for the congenital spine curvature, the stoop, the odd tilt of the head perpetually, servilely looking upwards. It was… Nice because Jack didn’t need to make himself higher when he met him, he didn’t try and make himself More, didn’t try to tower over Jack and that set his mind at ease.

People were afraid of him so they always tried to make themselves Big and that made him… uneasy.

Kelas Parmak is slight, he’s an albino manifested by a violet tint to his gray skin, a slight pink to his sclera, an indigo hue to his eyes, and a pair of large silver spectacles that control the shaking of his pupils. He is sensitive to light but not cold (a different Breed of Cardassian from the Northern Continent thus spoke Zarathustra) and walks with a deliberate and measured step. He’s slight of build but there’s something Off, something stronger than it looks from the soft spoken voice that everyone strains to hear but Jack, from the mouth that barely moves when it speaks. Kelas Parmak leaves a tang of cinnamon spice on his tongue that Jack tasted when he was near him.

Jack wasn’t supposed to be near him.

Jack was never supposed to meet him.

Doctor Parmak wasn’t supposed to be in the inpatient wing directly. His work, he said involved the research of genetic augments but Nurse Ratched didn’t think it was a Good Idea for Jack or the Others to have any contact with Outsiders after the Incidents. Jack didn’t understand why they still expected him to listen to any of them. He still constantly Questioned from whence their Authority over him originated. They never answered him with anything Satisfactory and they… they had no right to keep him there when Sarina was allowed to leave and Bashir said there wasn’t anything he could do for them so why… why they kept this charade up, why they persisted in him changing or why they thought like the Foolish Virgin that they would awaken and his magic power would have changed all laws and morals and-

“They must be getting desperate,” Lauren says interrupting his Thoughts. Jack’s head snaps up the counter still counting violet eyes peering up over the frames of the spectacles. In one week, you’ll kneel for me…“If they’re letting one of the Cardassian Resistance doctors even think about looking at their records.”

“They’re afraid,” Patrick adds with a sigh, watching the feed that he and Jack had tapped into. Their security will recode soon enough but for now it’s enough for Jack to stare intently at the screen and continue considering the puzzle of Doctor Parmak.

“They should be afraid, they should have listened but it’s too late now too late for Martha to pull her dress back down.”

“It’s never too late to pull your dress back down, Jack,” Lauren retorts as she stares blankly a moment at the picture book. Jack sighs, studying the figure as the meeting continues. It’s a meeting about Jack and it Irritates him that he’s not there but… but Doctor Parmak wants him as an assistant which wasn’t the intent when Jack dropped from the ceiling in front of him but that’s what it’s become and he’s riveted to the back and forth volley of words. He stands nearly perfectly still biting his finger, Lauren murmuring that the Doctor is attractive but clearly not the Right Type and that’s code for a man who hasn’t triggered Lauren’s hallucinations.

But he triggered something for Jack.

The intent at first was a simple one. Jack needed to see the stranger, know the stranger who was in his Space hearing the pokpok of the cane tip echoing like a siren’s song to bring him to drown. He needed to know the creature behind the sound of their dark and warm little corner of the universe so he hung back searching, following the sound but seemingly too slow to catch it, the shadow vanishing around a corner until every light blared and all suns rose with the dawn. Doctor Parmak had slipped in like Mercury beneath the door, wavering, flickering quicksilver and it had stopped Jack a moment when he finally laid eyes on him.

Doctor Parmak said he wanted to talk.

So they talked...

---

“Hmm… they can’t contain you and yet here you are at the mercy of… what did you call them… basics?”

“Basics, simple, down the ladder of the chain, slower, weaker, duller, but you you take enough insects in a swarm and they can bring down a mighty creature! Fell worlds, galaxies, collapse stars mmhm.”

“And you would… rule over them?”

“Rule? Ha! That’s what they say too- rule, who’d want to rule hm hm? Milton would- better to reign in hell than serve in heaven but but Paradise is long lost and Hell is everyone here and I… I just want Quiet! Is that too much to ask?! Freedom?Quiet?! But all men hate the wretched and there’s… there’s nothing more wretched than a seraphim cast with six broken wings… why are you laughing?”

It started with a little smile. Jack introduced himself. Doctor Parmak kept smiling non threatening, assessing good Good but holding firm, eyes following Jack’s movements, leaning on the cane, a tilt of the head as he gave his name back, lips barely moving, a flit of the tongue that was like a small lizard’s, delicate, a push of glasses, no offer of hand, as they discussed and lips still barely moved keeping Jack from reading them, still Smiling as eyes tracked, no draw back, no posturing just Watching, laughing softly, then louder, disarming because Jack didn’t… raise his voice as he would when he Needed to know something but just asked level and Curious...

“Ah, my apologies it’s just that… what you said reminded me of things I’ve heard so many times in so many academic circles. Mmm… how to explain I suppose you would say that for many Cardassians, the mightiest human is still a blind and snivelling vole next to even the weakest of us... Oh but that sounds like slight, doesn’t it? My apologies, I suppose I’m not well versed in your customs.”

“You’re not better than me. Quantifiably even… even accounting for genetic differences in bones density, the averages that make us different it… it doesn’t matter and I don’t know why you’d stand there saying things you know aren’t true I don’t know why you wouldn’t know any of this or why you’d argue it with me because you had to had to have read my file.”

Jack’s hand on his shoulder and Doctor Parmak drew in a breath but not scared, increased respirations, another push of glasses, another speculative tilt, another flick of that tongue which Jack mimicked and Parmak smiled hand over Jack’s thumb circling scales, warm hand, trapping, holding him there, looking in his eyes steadily brilliantly Jack’s thumb in his mouth biting hard before that hand released soft, stepping in challenging sweetly smiling smelling cinnamon and Jack tasting spice in the air a study, more study of him Jack uncertain unsure, a tap of the cane, another step towards him voice soft hands soft, mouth soft, warm, everything about Doctor Parmak radiating warm.

“No, I hadn’t actually. It wasn’t necessary to know about any of you individually. And I suspect were I to read your file I’d find it hardly conveys everything that I need to know about you.”

“What do you need to know about me? They said… that that you weren’t going to study us, that you weren’t going to scan, you weren’t going to cut because I don’t agree to that. You’re not cutting me open! No!”

“Mmm no, there’s no need for that. In fact… the use I have for you is much different. With your… gifts you say, you might be the assistant that I need. They offered me some young man but I fear he isn’t going to be able to keep up academically. But I have a feeling that you’ll work out quite nicely.”

“I’m not taking orders from you? I know you heard me, I don’t take orders hm. I don’t-”

Nystagmatism met paroxysm and both battled to a standstill, Parmak with the saucy cinnamon tilt of head and fingers dancing over the exposed ridges of his neck mirrored on Jack’s, Jack followed absently, both of them stopped having danced circles in the empty common room around the couch, a chase around the sofa ashes ashes, all falling down, step left step right, Parmak holding up a single digit smile dark on his face but not Threatening just… commanding.

“One week. In one week, you’ll kneel for me…”

“Why… why would I kneel for you?”

“Because you want to be a good boy of course...”

Whispered sibilant susserated auditory smoke sending shivers as the Doctor slowly turned his back on Jack the ghost of that voice, that scent lingering in the air before the room started back up, stopped time resuming, People egress ingress, in out and Jack fled back when the lights came back on and he realized until then the room had been nearly pitch black with Doctor Parmak still seeing him clear as day.

“Good boy…”

---

“Well you certainly must have made an impression,” Lauren teases as Jack watches Doctor Parmak neatly parlay Jack’s temporary Extra Privileges to Assist him. He blinks a few times before jumping down. “You’ll have to tell me your secret.”

“See Jack, this is why Sarina said that you catch more flies with honey,” Patrick says and Jack is… pleased that Patrick has something to smile about because Patrick like the rest of them has been a lot quieter since Sarina’s departure, but unlike Jack the silence from the other two is an inward reflection, a rebirthed quiet hope for their own liberation and Jack… wonders what it might be like to have people on the Outside waiting for him. Sarina didn’t have anyone but Lauren and Patrick… they’re different.

Jack doesn’t hope. Jack doesn���t dream. Jack doesn’t particularly care who wins the war because the walls of his room, his cell look the same no matter who owns the galaxy. Bashir speaks loftily about freedom and subjugation but Jack’s lived most of his life in chains and still doesn’t understand if it’s good enough for His existence why they’re not willing to pledge the save to save billions of their fellow man. Jack will never Understand the anger at him for doing what he was told, never understand why they Hate that he refuses to call them equal. Equal men didn’t wear chains and that either made him Prometheus or Sicinnus using his gifts in the service of Themistocles… In one week, you’ll kneel for me… Never, he thinks, even as he watches The Federation barter him away like an Athenian slave.

Jack doesn’t belong to anybody.

But still feels the memory ghost of breath on his face, the counter counting higher, indigo eyes above the glimmering lenses blinking every second…

Good boy...