Chapter 7: Keep watching the skies
(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)
Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 7: Keep watching the skies
Wordcount: 6.4k
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader
TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Implied sexual assault/rape, non-consensual drug use,
Description: You follow up on your own lead, convinced it's the only way, leading the rest of the 141 on a hunt to find you.
A/N: Not sure I got all the typos, let me know if you find any <3
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If Price was ever going to grant any of their wishes, Johnny prayed to the lord that it would be to get better beds. Even if he and the taskforce had slept in worse places than this, on the ground in half fallen buildings, in bundles of hay or random items, it didn't keep Johnny from being grumpy about the lack of space and stiff mattresses.
He wasn't sure why Laswell hadn't accounted for the one missing bed. Sometimes he thought that she expected one of them to take the janky couch, but she couldn't really, could she? It was what Simon did most nights, or at least Johnny was pretty sure he did. He typically didn't come into the room during nights, letting Johnny snore away on the little space there already was. Then again, that man never truly slept much on missions.
Simon got the optimal amount of sleep he needed to function for a day, and not a second longer. It was a habit that was hard to coax him out of when he and Johnny went back home. When they had first bought an apartment together, it even took a few weeks before Johnny managed to get Simon into a somewhat normal sleep rhythm.
One thing he found that worked, was letting Simon listen to his heartbeat. It seemed to calm the man for whatever reason. Johnny supposed he understood, it was something consistent, a lifeline in the most literal sense. It assured someone that the other was still alive, that their heart was still beating and their lungs still breathing.
They had both spend a lot of long nights like that. Nights after missions with too close calls, nights fuelled with terrors and horrid images on their minds, nights where it was as simple as the fact that one of them couldn't fall asleep.
Johnny didn't know when Simon had moved from the couch to laying on top of him and squeezing half the air out of his lungs, but he was sure woken up by it. The first rays of the morning sun peeked through the blinds of the window, and highlighted the dust particles floating around in the room.
Simon was a steady weight on top of him. His breathing the only thing inconsistent from his otherwise still form. He reached out, smoothing his hands over the muscles of Simon's back, feeling him sigh further into his hold.
He was still awake then.
"Mornin' wee lad," Johnny whispered teasingly into Simon's ear, conveniently placed right next to him from how he was hiding his face in his neck.
Simon grumbled something unintelligible against Johnny's skin. "Shut it MacTavish..." was about the only thing he could make out of it. It was enough to incite a round of his personal infectious laughter.
The sheets were jumbled between both of their legs, creating an odd display of tangled limbs probably resembling some deformed eldritch horror from an outsider’s perspective.
"Didn't think ye would actually join me...thought ye didn't want affection when spider's around," Johnny mumbles cheekily yet still pulls the massive man even closer. He closes his eyes again, enjoying the weight on his chest, the comforting assurance he'd been craving for all too long.
"They're not here..."
Groggily, Johnny opens his eyes again to catch a peek of the other bed. Surely enough there was no form occupying it, the bed made with military precision. "Mh...got an early start then..." a way too early start even for his own standard.
"They barely sleep..." Simon grumbles and let's out a long huff, resigning to the fact he isn't falling back asleep anytime soon.
"Ye alright love...?" Johnny reaches up to rub his hand through Simon's short hair. A rare occasion for him to take off his mask, even here. Johnny would enjoy every second of it. With gentle movements he guides Simon's head a bit further up so he can place soft kisses to his face. Over his scars, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.
Simon let's out a sigh, lazily kissing him back. "M'fine...jus' exhausted," he did sound it.
Johnny nods quietly, pressing another kiss to his forehead. It had been a long time since they'd taken time just for themselves, their apartment was practically just sitting back collecting dust from how little they managed to actually use it.
"We should take a vacation when we're done here," Johnny suggests.
Simon doesn't get any time to reply before the door is thrown open. Johnny shoots an arm over his shoulders, to shield his face with his arm just in case. The both of them relax seeing Kyle's face linger in the doorway, he looked around the room settling on the two in a pile with a sigh.
"Would you two lovebirds get a move on," Kyle huffs and crosses his arms.
Johnny groans dramatically, making a show of how exhausting Kyle's request really is. "You could always just join us Garrick," he suggests instead, wiggling his eyebrows long enough to make both men groan.
"I'm good," Kyle shakes his head but can hardly hide the smile on his face, "any of you seen Spider? We can't find 'em."
"The fuck do ye mean ye can't find 'em, they can't have gotten that far out," Johnny paces around in the kitchen. His usual energy spiking at the odd occurrence of an unpredictable event. The facts were staring him the face. You were nowhere in the house, nowhere around the house, told nobody and left no note. You were just gone.
You wouldn't just have run away, would you?
He looks over at Simon. He'd put his mask back on, his eyes closed behind it. He still seemed half asleep, nursing a cup of hot tea in his hands.
"They could have gone to town, taking a look around and forgot to tell anyone?" Kyle throws one option on the table. He'd prepared breakfast for himself, sitting opposite of Simon munching down on it.
"We need tae go find them," Johnny says and rubs his nose. There's something uneasy settling in his system, not knowing where you are, what you were up to. He was sure you were capable, that you knew what you were doing, but you had told no one. Even if you were fine, there had to be some stern talk to make sure you wouldn't pull a stunt like this again. Not even Price was liking this at all.
And speaking of Price. Johnny's attention sharpens when the captain comes back into the kitchen. "Laswell heard nothing either, but she mentioned they talked of the mountains" Price shakes his head lightly. "They likely went for them, but we have the town to look into as well."
"We'll split up, cover more ground, they are likely fine on their own but I’d like to have a talk with them so bring them back. Ghost, Soap you take the surrounding area, follow the trail towards the foot of the mountains. Me and Gaz will take a visit to the town, sniff around and see what else we can figure out about this community."
Simon is already on the move, abandoning his still steaming tea at the table. Johnny is hot on his heels, refusing to let him go and make some stupid choice in the heat of it. He still didn't fully understand it. The lingering connection between the two of you, but he knew that it was important. He wasn't going to let him down.
"Listen up My Angel, this is one our newest members. My very own brother, Graham," The Father introduces you to the buffer man standing in front of you. He's taller than him, keeps a short buzzcut you've come to expect from anybody here. It didn't take long before it was enforced on both the men and women, didn't matter what anybody said to it.
The collective has grown significantly and fast. Michael even insisted on being called The Father. You didn't quite understand why. He never explained himself, merely enforced it like he enforced the haircuts. You guessed it was to keep a resemblance between him and God, but you found it more creepy than holy.
His connections expanded a lot more over a very short time. People from far and wide was informed about what you all did here, and they travelled all the way to join you. It was a great feeling. You quickly received a lot more responsibilities for the younger sheep, but you found a lot of the exercises were more cathartic than anything.
"It's good to meet you," Graham speaks your name with a cold indifference. He wasn't very interested in anything that wasn't his brother. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked expectantly at The Father.
You're distracted. That much is obvious to both men on either side of you. Despite doing your best to keep your focus, you keep drifting towards different thoughts. Your gaze continuously looking towards the gate where the mail picked up from town would usually come through.
It's been several weeks, almost two months.
Simon still hasn't answered you.
You felt The Fathers hand gently push against your back, guiding you forward. "Graham trains more unorthodox K9's," he explains while making sure to place you between the both of them, "he specialized in dogs and wolves before he transferred here."
"Don't oversell it Michael," Graham grumbles. He looks off to the side, observing the newer recruits running drills around a makeshift obstacle course.
The Father clears his throat. In all the time you've known him, you've never seen him even close to nervous. "Point remaining...he's going to...train you...afterwards you're going to help him train up the rest," he sounds as if he isn't sure. The final details not yet decided.
Your eyebrows furrow at that. You already have the formal training; you're learning rapidly from shadowing The Father and you don't think you're doing half bad. Still, you needed more training? What else did you have to learn?
"Don't worry your pretty head angel," his hand finds a firm grip on the back on your neck, "just be good, follow orders and everything will turn out just fine."
"Good, again."
Your head was spinning from the pain. He'd had you going for hours at a time, didn't let you stop till you lost consciousness. Your thighs ached, your heart pounding out of your chest. The objective was simple. Shoot the targets he'd set up.
You'd finally completed a full round, and Graham's expression hadn't even changed a bit. He didn't care.
It's not like he was making it any easier on you. Whatever medicine he'd shot into your blood at the start was starting to make your head throb. You could still see the broken glass of the syringe laying amidst the sand and dirt. It glinted in the lowering sunlight.
The wooden targets were starting to get this bad habit of taking form, of looking more and more like moving people. People with angry faces, people with hurtful words, people with guns and ill intent. Around them the shadows crept, licking up against the figures and swallowing them hole. You weren't given much time to question as you were flung through the obstacle course another time.
In the beginning he put on a song on a speaker. An older one, slow and rather beautiful, a love song you think.
It's been on loop ever since. He seems obsessed with it, humming along with the tune for the hundred time as you run through the course. You hit your targets with a shake in your arm, making you miss a few a couple of times. It staggers your progress, and it's like you can feel his displeased look in the back of your neck.
You keep going, shooting at the shadowy figures that remain stationary. He's not saying anything you don't think, but still, you can hear his comments in your ears.
Do better
You're better than this
Wrong
Follow my orders
You miss the last target, by a stroke of bad luck. The ground comes closer all too rapidly when your body decides to give out. It refused to remain standing, to continue the strain that could no longer be received properly.
You heave for air, your grip on the gun all too lose. It falls to the ground and you just manage to push it out of the way before you collapse all the way onto your back. The air is too warm for this, your body already drenched in sweat.
He comes to hover above you.
You don't have time to squirm away.
Graham pulls up your shirt, takes his knife and adds another cut next to the other five. Your scream falls on deaf ears. He was ruthless in his violence. He knew exactly where to cut, knew exactly how deep to make it so you'd lose blood without dying. He timed the seconds in your blood loss, he kept an obsessive eye on your movements, your expressions, until he knew your tells better than you did.
He was lethally precise.
Graham hauls you back up to your feet, shoving the gun back in your hand and turns you back to the obstacle course.
"Cull the herd."
Somewhere along the way, the vials became less mandatory. Mr. Graham stopped forcing them on you one random night. It should've relieved you, no longer being woken up before you normally did with violent movements and a syringe pressed into your skin, but the abrupt change dysregulates you.
You still didn't sleep easy, expecting to be unnaturally woken up by either Mr. Graham or The Father with whatever they had decided they needed from you. Not having the altering substance in your system started feeling weird. You began to crave it again, the precision you had with it, the strength and clearness in your mind. You missed how clearly your targets would be highlighted for you.
So, you started injecting it on your own.
Mr. Graham never objected to it. He supplied you whenever you were low with nothing more than a knowing smile and a strong hand on your shoulder. Whether he ever regretted it, he never told you, but he did notice the change in your mental state. The rapid decline like falling down a ladder, you'd grab unto it, try to save yourself, only for it throw you off once again.
At first, he didn't mind it, even gave you an extra length of patience whenever you'd start to space out outside of fighting, or when you'd take longer to process his words when things were too calm for you.
But then you started to get snappy, too eager for the fight your body ached for.
You hadn't even realized it was the wrong thing before you had done it. Maybe the day had been too long, maybe you were overworked, too tired. It didn't matter, it was you that fired the shot. You had taken the injection earlier than usual, double the dose so it would last until training.
As always, Mr. Graham had met you on the field but he wasn't alone this time. The Father, being ever so gracious, decided to observe you both this time. You had stood dutifully next to Mr. Graham, your head bowed, posture straight, your mind a strange mix of muddy and sharp. Shadows crept at the corner of your vision, making you twitch.
You felt unsteady. Your trigger finger twitching with an odd need to hunt, to expel the uncomfortable energy swirling in you, an energy that needed to be used. All the excess adrenaline seemed to even be noticed by The Father.
"Are you alright, My Angel?"
Mr. Graham gives you a look that's hard to discern. Like he's trying to figure out where on the scale you are from collapsing and going rabid. He gets his answer in the worst way he'd have wanted it.
Something too real moves in your vision, rounding the corner of a building. A small shadowed figure, too stark in the contrast of the white wall. It smiled cruelly, moved erratically and it triggered every sensor in your brain. You act without thinking.
A loud squeaking sound comes from the creature. It collapses to the ground like a dying animal. The shadows slink away revealing the silhouette of a dog, laying gasping on the ground, whimpering and clinging to the life you took from it.
None of them react at first.
Three pairs of eyes watching the life drain. One shocked, one calm, one furious.
You don't even hear the angry words coming out of Mr. Graham's mouth. Your world is spinning, your head is buzzing and you still haven't quite recognized what you had just done. Which of them you had just killed.
He grabs your arm, drags you along to no protest from The Father. You don't remember the way, or where he took you. You only remember the pain of being thrown into the dark room of stone walls. There's no window, no light, and nobody else.
"I'll come get you once you've learned to calm the fuck down."
Those words are all he leaves you with before closing the door. Your breathing is unsteady when you lean against the cold wall and slowly lower yourself to the ground. It's unnerving. You know they're there. They're always there. Watching you, taunting you, baiting you into doing something.
They didn't make noise before; they didn't talk before but now in the darkness they still feel the need to make their presence known.
Calm down calm down calm down
You don't know whether it's you or something else that keeps repeating it. Your heart rate elevates, your body starts to shake. You try to scream out for help but your lips don't move. You don't even hear the little whimpers coming from your throat.
They creep around in the dark. They inch closer. They caress your skin. They fester inside your head.
Spider?
You freeze up in your corner at the familiar voice inside your mind. You don't want to look because you know who you'll see.
"No no no no no no."
Your hands clutch around your head, pulling at your hair.
"Go away!"
I brought food
"No go away! Please! Don't- don't do this."
Go on, I could hear your growling stomach from the gate
"Please!"
I made it
"You're not- you're- not- not-"
Did you hurt yourself?
"Leave me alone! You're not real!"
Whenever you're ready, little Spider
The snow has a blinding purity that's always mesmerized you. It stains so easily, the slightest touch disturbs the perfectly laid coat, creating chaos in the pillows of comfort and sanity. You'd spent most of the morning, most of the day, trekking through that purity and soiling it with the dirt underneath your boots.
There had always been a specific kind of thrill in your chest when you defied orders directly given. A small part of you taken back in your own hands, for better or for worse. You used to thrive so well under watch and order. Even if that's not the case anymore, you'd really ought to listen to the words of your betters.
At least then maybe you wouldn't be here. Standing as still as a statue, having a staring contest with a wolf and its red eyes. They're terribly vibrant. Reminiscent of the blood you could spill now.
Your hand clutched around your gun, ready to move at the order of a split-second decision. You're not here to hunt, you have to remind yourself. Never mind the wolf, never mind your thoughts. It doesn't matter that you used to hunt with them, that they used to sniff out your target for you.
It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter it does-
The thing isn't even full grown. You'd have been more inclined to leave it alone if it wasn't for the bleeding cross running down it's snout. The red mixed with its fur in a beautiful symmetry. It's growling at you, you think. It makes you wonder if this is what your old targets used to feel when the wolves would corner them. Unlikely. They usually kept a face mixed with fear and hopelessness. Runaway members of the collective never lasted long under the knife.
There's a part of you that doesn't dare look away from it. The fatigue in your eyes almost do it for you, the snow around the creature makes it melt into the surroundings. The wolf was too focused, too interested in the way you looked, in the way you smelled.
He's still training them
They were likely right. If Mr. Graham was still alive, still with the collective, he'd be doing what he'd always been doing.
Cull the herd
Be the guide, the cold example
Cull the herd
And if that was the case, it wouldn't only be wolves lurking around out here. You'd need to relay this to Price, or Laswell, without rousing too much suspicion. It was a mere hunch, a feeling in your gut, but one you'd learnt to trust long ago.
You start to slowly move backwards, if you were tactical about it, you could still come out of this unscathed. Something flickers in the corner of your vision. All it takes is a moments distraction and the creature lunges at you.
The gunshot echoes in your ears. Your instincts took over, fired for you, and in a rare moment of luck you actually manage to hit. The wolf falls to the snow, its left eye is half gone and blood oozes out of it. The snow becomes dirty in its blood.
You take a step closer to it, observing the dead creature. The cross is gone. Something else flickers in the corner of your vision, something bigger and a lot faster. Luck doesn't strike twice, favouring others in a moment of misfortune.
Sharp teeth sink into your shin. You cry out, despite the second wolf only managing to hang onto more clothes than skin, it still penetrates. Scalding pain shoots up your leg. A second gunshot sounding out. You're not sure how you managed to hit it properly this close, but the wolf falls to the ground next to its mate.
You sink to the ground next to them, breathing heavily as if you'd run half a marathon. Your brain runs loops around itself trying to understand what had happened, why both of them had attacked like that, and why the bleeding crosses on their heads were no longer there.
Was it a trick from him? A trick of your mind?
It would take a lot for you to even attempt to call yourself sane any longer but this felt out of hand. Despite your own distorted reality, when it came to the cult you could usually rely on the rampant voices in your head. Were you really turning this paranoid?
With groans and sputters, you manage to move yourself around enough to take a look at your leg. It could've been worse; the damage wasn't deep but you wouldn't be making it to the mountains like this. You let out a curse to the heavens. You'd been so close to achieving your goal before somebody came looking for you, and now you'd have to backtrack.
You had the two options, and you knew you had to choose the boring one.
A higher pitched scream in the distance catches your attention, followed along with a loud splash and arguing not that far from you. The snow carried the sound a bit further than normal but it wouldn't be more than a minute’s walk from your location.
And just when you thought you could make your way back with no complications.
You hoist yourself back on your feet, letting out a hiss as your leg protests to the movement with more pain shot up all the way to your thigh. You lean on a nearby tree, perking your ears to listen to the nearby voices.
At first you can't make out what they're saying but...they're familiar.
Simon and Soap.
Your stomach drops.
Price must have sent them out to look for you. Part of you scolds yourself for not leaving some sort of note or message. No matter how elusive. At least then they might not have come out for you. You could've gotten further, if it hadn't been for the sake of those pesky wolves.
You run a hand over your face, the gloves taking some of the fallen snow off your eyebrows. You walk in the direction of their voices, using their argument to steer you in the right direction.
There was safety in numbers now that they were out here. You weren't keen on being mauled over by another pack of wolves.
"For fucks sake Johnny, I told you to watch where you're placing those feet of yours!"
"Not my fault the bloody stones are so slippery in this weather!"
"Bloody hell just get your arse up!"
You peek out between a set of bushes, the thicket giving you enough cover to observe the situation before you approached them. You tilt your head, your eyebrows turning a bit up in surprise at the sight.
Soap, coming out the water from one of the deeper creeks, completely wet.
Your lip twitches, and you feel the urge to bubble up with laughter. You don't know how he fell in, and you don't really need to know to see the entire event as hilarious.
"Bloody river, stupid weather, stupid snow" he grumbles angrily as he tries to dust off the water like it was a simple speck of dirt.
Simon sighs heavily, his entire gear moving along up and down with him. "You need to go back, gonna get hypothermia if you stay out here," he says sternly. There's concern laced in the order, but it's an undeniable order nonetheless.
"No way...am not letting you stay out here alone, Price told us tae look for 'em together," Soap protests.
"Don't need to look much further," you sigh and speak up.
You emerge from the thicket, startling the both of them at the same time. They're drawn guns are trained on you in an instant, and in return your own gun is trained on Soap. Force of habit and all that.
Simon relaxes when he gets a proper look at you. Soap following soon after.
"Good, you're not dead then" he speaks in a relieved manner. Did he really think you'd act that recklessly? Probably.
"You really think I'd let myself get killed over something that idiotic?"
He looks at you for a moment, but not because he needed to give it any thought. No, his eyes aren't displaying a complex need for that, because he knows the answer. He's giving you the chance to take it back, to explain the limp in your walk. You don't.
"No," he says just as sternly in the crass voice of his.
"Ghost is right," you say and turn towards soap and his half assed attempt at squeezing water out of his gear, "we need to get you back home...get you warmed up."
"Aye."
The entirety of the town is already giving Price the creeps. He's seen his fair share of things in his time, the awful, the creepy, the monstrous. But the feeling this town gives him? Unlike most things he's encountered.
There's no hostility, nothing but the purest of hospitality even for mere tourists. There's something wrong with the smiles, their incessant need to accommodate practically anything he asks for.
He opens the door to the car, holding the two coffee cups against his chest. Garrick reaches over, takes them from him when he gets himself comfortable in the front seat. "I think I got your order right...don't kill me if it isn't, got a bit distracted in line," Price grumbles and leans back in his seat.
Garrick takes a sip of his own, then handing back Price's cup to him. "It's just fine cap, thanks" he mumbles and drinks some more. He let's out a satisfied groan and relaxes back into the seat. "Despite how weird this place is, at least they know how to make coffee."
"Hm that we can agree on," Price takes a sip of his. It's not bad, but he's definitely had better. The shop he went to would do better serving tea on the menu as well.
He'd parked the car in one of the open parking lots, not many seemed to come here. Most of the day it remained practically empty except for the few people coming to and from town. They'd spent the last two hours walking through town, posing as the tourists they undeniable were today. They hadn't learnt much, except for the fact the locals remembered faces too well for comfort.
Though it was to be expected, the town wasn't too big.
"Walked by the church..." Price says with a sigh, "struck up conversation with a few of the locals changing up the sign outside."
"Got anything useful out of them?" Garrick asks as if he'd conducted a whole interrogation.
"They've got daily mass...but most people come on Sundays as to be expected," he tells him before taking another sip, "a few of us should attend on Sunday."
Garrick let's out a louder groan, likely already picking up what he's putting down. The man clearly didn't want to, but like anything else they'd do here in this town, it was all work. Just work.
Price takes another long gulp of his coffee. The energy barely ever worked for him these days, the stress getting to his bones. He looks out towards the bustling little market a bit further up the long road. There wasn't many, but most of them would come through the market at least once a day. Garrick had mentioned a few familiar faces he'd spoken to in his other trips to town.
"Captain, do you think they'll...." he goes quiet, hesitating to finish his question.
"They'll find them," Price says assuredly.
"That's not..."
The captain doesn't bother looking at him, gives him a moment to think his question through. "Speak your mind, Garrick," he urges.
"How much do we actually know about them?" he knows why he's asking. Price had his own doubts, his own concerns, when Laswell first presented your file on his desk and insisted this was the only way.
He hadn't fully shed his doubts yet.
"We know enough, sergeant" it's not the answer he wants nor the answer he needs but it's the answer Price has for him. He'd have to do more digging, for the safety of the team, for the prosperity of the mission itself. You were too big a mystery, one where the only thing he could rely on was Laswell's word.
"They've been helpful, they'll continue to be helpful, it'll have to be enough for now." Price adds on shortly after.
Garrick says nothing in return, simply continues to drink his coffee dissatisfied.
Price starts up the car, intending to have the rest of the way home in silence. And it was, much to his admiration. The sergeant could have a talkative tongue when he got excited about something, he'd think this whole situation would give him a few things to say.
Instead, it leaves him a quiet contemplating mess. Much like the rest of them.
He only ever speaks up in a low grumble when he sees the tip of the house revealing itself in the distance, only to render himself quiet once again.
The silence stretches on until Kyle sees the three figures bickering at the front door. "Isn't that..." he trails out as he realizes they probably don't have the key for the home. He does his best at holding back his laughter. It earns him a side glare from Price.
"Seems like they found 'em."
Price turns the car around and parks it in its usual spot next to the temporary home. "The fuck happened to you?!" Garrick says bemused by the sight of Soap.
Price does raise a questioning brow as he exits the car after Garrick. They were only supposed to go get Spider, why the man was wet as a dog was lost on him.
"Fell in the river..." Soap grumbles.
Garrick fails to hold in his laughter this time around, snorting on the spot. "I know you like water but maybe you should stay away from the literal ice water mate," he claps Soap on the back a few times.
Soap pushes him away annoyed, "agh away n' bile yer heid!"
Price rolls his eyes, pushing past the two to unlock the front door. As soon as it's open, you dart past him to head inside in the warmth with a surprising urgency. He looks to Simon, coming to stand beside him to move inside as well.
"They're fine...mostly fine...we're all fine," he assures him.
He eyes you suspiciously. His boys might've said you were fine, you might've said you were fine to them. Little observation told him that your limping leg wasn't all that fucking fine.
He followed you out back, the rest remaining in the living room to keep MacTavish warm. "Spider, slow it up" he spoke up causing you to freeze in place. He walked with steady steps until he could place himself in front of you.
"Come, I need to talk to you, and we need to take a look at that," he gestures to the leg that has a stained pantleg. He turns back around to walk to his and Garrick's room. He doesn't bother looking back to see if you're following, he has a deep-rooted feeling that you will.
You may be a rulebreaker when you get the confidence, but there's still obedience in you. From where he doesn't understand just yet, but it doesn't take all of his wisdom to gather a lot went down when you were hunting the cult on your own.
He holds the door open for you. Your eyes meet as you make your way inside, there's that stubbornness he's used to seeing in Simon. "Sit," he points to one of the beds pressed into the corner while he closes the door.
You do as he says, your voice stuck in your throat. He rummages through the cabinets, finds the first aid kit he always saved a few of. He didn't even need to tell you to roll up your pantleg, you'd taken the hint way before.
The wounds weren't deep, but whatever you'd been bitten by had been out to be vicious. "You'll need to get a doctor to look at this...lucky for you the town's got a local practice."
You tense up at that, dodge his touch as he tries to keep your leg steady enough to clean. "It's fine..." you say hastily, "It just needs to be cleaned I don't need to see anyone."
"Yes you do and that's an order," Price is stern in his voice.
One thing was to go out of your way to disobey the laid-out deal between the two of you, to run away to look for clues on your own, but this? He wasn't about to let you walk about with an injury that'll make you hurt yourself even more.
You go quiet at that. It's enough for him to grab your calf and put a wet rag against your wound. You flinch but make no sound. Your muscles are tense under his grip and your eyes shut tight.
He allows you the moment of silence, understanding the discomfort of it. He doubted you'd be able to answer anything if he even asked you right now. He cleans off the excess blood, checking the toughness of the teeth punctures. It wasn't as serious as it looked, but you still needed a checkup, he wasn't changing his mind about that.
He removes the rag, and binds the wound. "Did you find anything?" he doesn't look at you as he asks, merely focusing on cleaning up the opened supplies.
"No..." you speak in a low whisper; he wouldn't have heard unless he was this close.
You don't elaborate, and he doesn't find the energy in him to ask.
"Next time you want to go on an adventure like that you take someone with you, or at the very least inform me," he's back to speaking sternly, the voice of a captain that's been carefully crafted over the years in service.
"I can't have rogue soldiers running around, is that understood?" he looks up to catch your eyes.
You hold his stare with an uncomfortable intensity, trying to be as intimidating as he is.
"Yes sir."
He pats your calf, tugging down your pant leg once again. That time you held back your flinch, but it was obvious in your eyes to him. He takes a moment to observe you, trying to dig through your rougher exterior, to see if you were really softer under in it all.
Had you been soft once?
He calls your name in a quiet voice, makes a point to use a softer voice with rounder edges.
"There's parts of your file not even I have access to," he starts slow, careful, then pauses. You're wary of him, more than the others. He chalks it up to his authority over you, the one you can't quite find your place underneath.
"What's haunting you that much...that you won't even let me in on surprise plans...we're all a team here we-"
You rise from your seat with no warning. You're quick to make your way around him, careful to not step on any of the scattered things on the floor. He doesn't stop you nor does he continue what he was about to pry out of you.
He understands in some underhanded way. He'd dealt with Simon a lot longer than he'd dealt with you. There were undeniable similarities yet still something entirely different between the two.
"You'll go to town first thing tomorrow morning, I'll get Ghost to take you" he speaks up from his seat on the floor. You stop somewhere close to the door, listening to his words, his order. You don't answer him, but he knows you heard him, that you'll heed him this once.
You leave the room, closing the door with a care for potential noise.
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Big Bend Chapter Four - Workday
Wordcount: ~1800 words
Cw: language
Previous
“All ready?” John asked. I forced a small, close lipped smile as I looked down at the human standing on my desk. I didn't think I'd ever get used to how small humans were.
“Yeah.” I hoped I sounded convincing.
“Today’s going to go fine,” John said. Apparently I hadn't sounded convincing. “What's got you worried?”
I glanced to the side, shrugging. “Just nerves, I guess.”
“Hmm.”
“So, uh, should we get going?” I asked. To my relief, John nodded.
“I suppose Dave will be waiting for us soon.”
As I placed my hand down on the table for John to climb onto, I wondered if Dave would be waiting for us. I'd gotten the impression he wasn't thrilled about working with me. That, or he wasn't thrilled about me period.
Probably both. I could hardly fault any of the humans for being nervous about, well, me. Even if it wasn't for all the rumors on Earth about Aphirials being man eating monsters - which definitely didn't help - I was still dozens of times larger than them. A literal giant, comparatively.
In my so far brief interactions with him, Dave seemed…more nervous than my other coworkers, though. I pushed that thought from my mind to focus my attention on John, who had climbed into my palm and taken a seat. That felt like the sort of thing that required 110% of my attention. I was literally holding a life in the palm of my hand.
“I'm ready whenever you are,” John said. I nodded, telling him I'd stand up and make my way to the door before actually doing so. The morning air was still chilly when we walked out. It seemed like Earth was cooler than Aphiria in general. Even the desert heat here wasn’t too bad, which was a nice change. A less nice change was the comparatively shorter days and nights, which left me feeling like I hadn't slept nearly long enough.
John instructed me to set him down near an official park truck that was park outside of my trailer. I did so carefully.
“So, I was thinking I'd go pick up Dave and bring him back here, and we can give him the choice of either riding in the truck or with you. Once he's here, I'll go over the plan for the day.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I watched as John climbed inside the truck. I couldn't help but feel a little amazed watching it drive away, towards the employee dorms. It was the size of a toy car back on Aphiria, and despite that, was a fully functioning means of transportation. Watching it go, I idly wondered how heavy it would be.
Would picking it up feel the same as picking up a toy truck? Despite my mild curiosity, I wasn't in any hurry to find out. It also seemed like something that small with that many working parts would be terrifying easily to break.
It wasn't long before I saw the tiny truck returning, an equally small cloud of dust behind it. When it pulled up in front of me, John climbed out almost immediately. Dave was slower to emerge.
“Alright! So, we're going to take the truck, and you can follow us,” John announced. That was an unsurprising turn of events. He continued. “Now, I'm sure Dan will go over the actual, y'know, ranger stuff. I only oversee the whole Aphiria-Earth liasion bit, and I won't be meaning to step on any toes this summer. Just wanted to get that out of the way," John said. "We were going to head over to the eastern part of the park, look around, and then I believe you'll be meeting Dan later this afternoon. Basically, we're just trying to get to know each other this morning.”
Dave and I both nodded, agreeing. I saw his gaze flicker up to me and then quickly away.
“Easton, when you're following us, just make sure to stay at least a few truck lengths from us,” John said.
“I will,” I promised.
And with that, we were off. I made sure to stay a decent distance from the truck as it drove, keeping my gaze carefully focused on where I was stepping. It didn't seem like we'd been moving for too long when we came across a tunnel in the road. I carefully stepped around and over it once the truck had gone through. Shortly after that, the truck turned off into a small, gravel parking lot. I hung back, wanting to give them plenty of space to park and get out. Plus, it wasn’t like I'd fit in the parking lot anyways. As I waited, I took in my surroundings. The Chisos mountains and Panther Junction lay behind us. In front of the parking lot, beyond another stretch of desert, meanwhile, was the Rio Grande. From my vantage, I could see it clearly, though I wasn’t quite sure how it would look to the humans on the ground.
Compared to rivers back in Aphiria, the part I could see wasn't terribly huge - maybe a bit wider than I was tall. Glancing down at the small truck in the parking lot, which barely came up to my ankles, I could guess why it was considered notably large to the inhabitants of Earth, though.
“Great! We’re all here! Easton, you can take a seat if you like,” John exclaimed cheerfully as Dave climbed out of the truck. He shot another quick glance up at me. I tried to will myself to project a calming aura, if that was even possible as I sat down.
“So, right over is the Rio Grande - there’s an overlook right up that trail. I was thinking this would be a great place to get to know the park and each other! Why don't we start with an icebreaker.” He didn't wait for either of us to reply before costinking. “What’s the most boring fact about yourself you can think of right now?”
I looked over at Dave. The last thing I wanted to do was speak over him or cut him off. He briefly met my gaze, and I quickly looked away, now not wanting to seem like I was staring at him, because that seemed like it would give off the exact opposite of “calming aura”.
When neither Dave or I answered after a moment, John spoke again. “Fine, I'll start. I’ve been wearing the same brand of deodorant since college. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”
I heard Dave let out a quiet snort at that.
John looked over at him. “What? You got something more boring than that?” His tone was light and teasing.
“I use 3 in 1 soap,” Dave said, sounding the most light hearted I’d heard him yet.
John put his hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, you got me. How about you, Easton?”
At the mention of my name, Dave visibly tensed again. I felt like shrinking into myself at that. No pun intended.
“Uh, I organize my clothes by color and style,” I said.
“I can confirm this,” John said with a laugh. “He has the most organized closet I’ve ever seen. Even compared to me.”
“And here I am just shoving everything in a drawer,” Dave said. “On a good day.”
“That’s probably more efficient,” I offered. I had spent many an hour at this point folding and organizing things since arriving, which had served as a nice reminder as to why I’d never been big on moving. Despite continually making choices that necessitated it.
“Alright, time for round 2-” Before John could finish, we were interrupted by the sound of a car approaching from the opposite direction we’d arrived in. I felt my heart rate spike. I looked down at John for guidance on what to do.
“Just let me take the lead introducing you if they do stop,” John said. “We haven’t officially introduced you at the park yet, but there have been announcements about your employment here.”
I nodded. The car didn’t slow down or speed up as it approached the turn for the parking lot. I was almost certain it would just continue past when it abruptly veered into the parking lot at a turn that seemed far too fast too be safe, even aside from the lack of turn signal. Almost equally quickly, the car skidded to a halt. Moments later, a woman stepped out. She was so tan she was almost orange, with hair that was close to the same color as mine, albeit with more yellow tones. She paused for a moment, looking at me, and then looking over at Dave and John.
“So, I take it the rumors about you lot hiring an Aphirial weren’t just rumors,” she said flatly as she looked back to me. She had the sort of cold gaze I’d seen all too often with politicians and businessmen back on Aphiria - a sort of entitled detachment.
“That’d be correct,” John said. He walked over to her, extending a hand as he introduced himself. “I’m John O’Riley, with the IMA. This is Ranger Easton Parks and this is Ranger Dave Goodman.” He gestured to each of us in turn.
“Joy Everett. I better not see him trying to eat any of my cattle.” She said.
I had to stop myself from letting out a baffled “what?”.
“I can assure you ma’am, that won’t be any issue. Ranger Parks is following the same rules and procedures as any of our other rangers here, none of which include stealing and eating cattle. Isn’t that right?” John looked up at me.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m a vegetarian anyways.” I added the last part jokingly, hoping to diffuse the situation. Joy scoffed.
“Like those snowflake Californians?” She paused, then laughed. “You really expect me to believe that? Whatever. Just stay away from my cattle.”
She stalked back to her car, slamming the door.
“Nice to meet you!” John called. She flipped us off, screeching out of the parking lot as quickly as she’d entered. The three of us were silent.
“Well…she seems…nice. And definitely not like she’d call me a slur,” Dave finally said.
“You good?” John asked me. As if reminded I was there, Dave glanced up at me, worry suddenly glittering in his eyes. Not so much for me. More for what my reaction might be.
“I’m fine. Can’t please everyone,” I said carefully.
“Suppose that’s the truth,” John said. “I’ll mention it to Dan, see if he knows anything about her, since it sounds like she’s a local. Anyways, good job to both of you.”
Dave gave a tight smile, and I desperately wished there was something I could do to put the small man at ease. This was going to be a long day.
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