A New Cause
Talking weapons from Newt.
Talking weapons from Newt.
Newt had been kept in the lab for days. He thought she was going to be rid of him right then, but instead he had been left to wait while... whatever happened happened. As he was dropped outside the gate, Newt sat and trembled for a good long while, blinking in the sun he hadn't seen in what felt like forever.
But he had both of his legs, didn't he? No new scars, but the ding on his forehead from where the guard had bashed his temple had swollen into a rather impressive lump that had spread to his eye, forcing it partially closed. He couldn't tell what he felt. He couldn't feel anything. Not the pain from his wounds, not the ground under his hands and feet as he hopped, not the cold hard depression that gripped his insides like a vice. At the very least, he had stopped internalizing, which was improvement. Just follow the road. Why? Where to? His duplex. What for? For what ever. He could just wait here. Wait for Annie or Jamal to come and gobble him. The idea made him almost giggle out loud.
Thom wasn't a very good babysitter. He had promised to keep an eye on Newt, and he had been, yes, but it was difficult to keep his eyes from wandering. The frog man was terribly dull, and the stutter was enough to drive Thom back into madness if he hung around for too long. He had kept near enough to know where Newt was, and that was enough for him. And then...he'd lost him.
The cobra had spent the better part of three days searching for Newt, who had apparently vanished into thin air--or the labs, which made a bit more sense, but was somewhere Thom couldn't access.
After determining that Newt couldn't possibly be anywhere but the dreaded labs, Thom had set up camp as close to the entrance as he could get without leaving the safety of the trees. The cobra was curled up out of sight of the guards in one of the lower branches of the tree, alternately watching for any sign of the frog and dozing off his latest meal. It was exceedingly boring, but luckily it wasn't a long wait. The frog appeared outside the gate and started down the road, and Thom slid down from the tree to await his approach, then lazily slithered onto the open roadway once Newt reached him, 'walking' at the frog's side. "How's th' strike goin'?"
The first sign of something being wrong with the frog man was his lack of any sort of flinch when the snake slithered out to meet him. He bearly seemed to register his fellow subject there at all, his eyes lowered down to the road as he continued his long leaps.
The cobra lifted a scaled brow, quickening his own pace to keep up with Newt's long hops. "Well?"
"L-leave m-m-me alone!" Newt finally snapped, stopping his still sore hop to turn a wide, froggy-eyed glare at the snake. It wasn't threatening, of course coming from Newt, but it was as threatening as the frog was capable.
"If you're tryin' to intimidate me, you're failin'," he drawled, continuing past Newt and down the road. "Plan didn't go as I expected it would... 'Pologies. You still don't 'ave to be a janitor though, eh?"
Newt didn't answer, keeping his head low as he tried to hop faster, trembling with rage. If the snake had really been following him, had he seen when he had attacked the guards? Or had he missed that? The labs threats hadn't taken the hot fire out from under the frogs skin, if only had poked at it and kindled it's heat further painfully. The frog could barely think. He could barely breath, but he managed.
No reply was forthcoming form the frog, so Thom tried another approach. As if reading Newt's mind, he latched onto the new subject. "Saw you attack those guards. Stupid of you, even if they did deserve it. I expect that's what this lab stay was about?"
"I... I... I w-was angry," Newt murmured in a distracted fashion, but ultimately did confirm his suspicions. "Th-they... th-they... th-they sh-sh-shouldn't have... have b-been t-teasing me."
"The shouldn't," Thom agreed, though it was probably rather hypocritical of him to say so. If it would keep Newt talking, then he was allowed to say it. He didn't have to mean it, after all. "You 'ad weapons...?"
"Th-they t-took them away," He continued along, his stomach in knots. Why had they kept him locked up for so long? What else had they taken away?
"But you could make more...?" he prodded, watching Newt carefully. The idea of making weapons out of the common items the labs supplied had never occurred to him, nor had the prospect of a real revolution until Newt's weapons and Jamal's kills. One side of him argued that there was no real point to it, that they were stuck on the island and turning into animals and there was no going back. The other desperately wanted to see an end to the labs, even if he couldn't change back himself. If only something could be done about the chips, it might be a possibility...
Newt didn't answer, but did quicken his pace. He had to get home. He had to get home as fast as possible! What if they took away his tools? What if's and worried possibilities gripped at his chest, eyes straight ahead as he bounded almost too quick for the snake to slither after.
"Dammit, Newt!" The cobra likewise picked up the pace, but still lagged behind, and eventually just gave up and slowed altogether. Mentally cursing his lack of legs, he followed after the frog at a distance, tongue flicking out every few seconds to keep him on the right trail after Newt.
Newt leaped straight away to his duplex up the stairs to teh top landing, scrambling to unlock it and hop inside, and left the door ajar behind him. What he found inside made him stop dead in his tracks, gaping in horror around him. He thought he had gone into the wrong place, but no, his key had opened the door. Inside there was.... nothing. No mud, no home made swamp, no work bench, no piles of inventions, no heaps of organized and agonizingly thoroughly sorted recycling. Everything was.... clean. He was amazed by how clean the place was. He hadn't felt the carpet as carpet in months. There wasn't a bed, but there was a bear mattress, a few changes of clothing and his letters sat on top in neat piles.
A good few minutes passed before Thom arrived at the duplex as well, waking his way up the stairs with surprising ease and pausing in the open doorway. It was...empty. "...If you want some furniture, you can take it out of my duplex. I don't stay there anymore."
"M-my... my..." Newt gasped, nearly falling over before he swayed upright to stand and stumble quickly towards the closet. Nothing in there either! Not even a spare blanket! Nothing in any cabinet, and even as he hopped up as high as he could to push a drop-ceiling panel out of the way, it appeared everything he had stashed up there was gone as well. The walls hadn't been repainted, though, stained with water damage from his sprinkler system, and brown muddy marks from where he had leaned up the "trees" of his self decorated terrarium.
He leaped to the mattress, scattering the clothes and letters as he lifted it to check underneath, but still nothing. No tools, no supplies, no bug traps, no wind chimes, no puppets, no origami crane from Natsumi. No bundle of hand made torture devices, rusted from cleaning the blood off of them late at night. He gave a panicked wail, flopping down on the soft dry rug with his head buried under the mattress.
This was more than Thom wanted to deal with. His plan was meant to be short and simple, not go a week with no results except to see Newt crying on the floor. He had half a mind to abandon the frog and head back to Natsumi's duplex, where the girl was undoubtedly waiting for him. Anything at all involving Natsumi was likely to be ten times more productive than watching a frog man cry. But the prospect of weapons was still a very tempting one... "Well done, I'm sure that's exactly th' reason they were 'opin' for. You've let them win. Might as well go back t' bein' a janitor."
"TH-they... they... they t-took... th-they t-took my t-tools..." He murmured, slowly pulling himself out again. Why was he so surprised? What had he expected? He hadn't been thinking. He had just been angry. But on the other hand... there was no mop. There was no bucket. There were no jumpers. "N-no... no... no, I'm... I'm n-no-no-no-not a jan-jan-janitor."
"Tools can be replaced," he scoffed, waving dismissively into the empty duplex. "As can sheets and clothing and furniture and such. Half the islanders don't even stay in their duplexes anymore, I'm sure." An exaggeration, but that hardly mattered. "You defied them, and th' only thing they could do in retaliation was empty your duplex? Comparin' the two, I'd say you won, Newt."
Newt had started to cry again, but when he heard what the snake had to hiss, he frowned and sniffed, sitting back thoughtfully. "I.... I sup-sup-suppose...." What did he need, right? He hadn't anything but the clothes on his back when his father had.... when Newt had.... he couldn't finish the thought, but after a thoughtful pause, he did murmur quietly, "D-do you th-think... they b-burned them? Th-threw them out...? K-kept them?"
"Does it matter?" He shrugged, slithering into the room and over to the frog man. "They're not 'ere, and I doubt you'll get the same ones back. But there's construction goin' on for somethin', right? You can borrow those tools, an' you can remake whatever was lost. One good side to the island--you 'ave all th' time you need."
That was true. It hurt. He felt invaded, violated in more than one way, but... Thom was right. He could get new tools, or someone could get them for him... "I... I... I... I c-can... r-re-rebuild... krrKIT!" His voice was almost a whisper.
"You can rebuild," he assured the frog, then raised a brow. "And more than just what was 'ere before. You were making weapons, Newt?"
The frog glanced about the room. He used to know where almost every camera was before... but had they been moved now? This was no secret anymore, was it? "M-m-ma-may-may-may-may-maybe."
Thom noted the glance, and gestured for the door, turning and heading out himself, then pausing to wait for Newt at the bottom of the stairs. He had forgotten the duplexes were monitored, and, if Newt really had been making weapons, his was probably more so than others.
Newt glanced around with a stoic expression, his stomach in knots. He bottled it up. Bottle it up and save it for later. He had a lot of work to do, especially now. Out in the woods, wrapped in a piece of cloth were his emergency reserves, right? They wouldn't have found those. Couldn't have found those. He had buried them when he had decided to go through with this Strike plan with Thom, just in case. There wasn't much, but it was a start. They had to be there. As he landed at the base of the stairs in a heavy hop, the frog man was giggling.
A giggling Newt was about the creepiest thing Thom could imagine, especially when Newt had been blubbering half under a mattress only a short while before. Grimacing, the cobra struck out for the jungle, intent on wandering...well, wherever they would be overheard. Which was basically out of the village, as long as they kept their voices down. "What had you made thus far?"
Newt didn't answer at first, making several long paced leaps before he spoke up, "L-lo-lo-lo-lots of th-things... It's... it's am-am-amazing wh-what... wh-what p-people will j-just throw out. One... one man's trash, right?" He laughed again at his own joke, mind still out amongst his hiding spot and wondering if it was untouched.
"Mhm." Newt had to get the supplies somewhere, obviously. It was almost a pity he wasn't sticking with the janitor thing. It seemed like a good excuse to dig through garbage for parts....not that Thom would ever do so himself. "Such as?"
"B-bits of p-plastic, b-bits of m-metal... sh-shaving r-razors, b-bits of rope, old cl-clothes and m-m-mettle c-cans, cam-cam-camera p-parts and human h-hair... th-things that st-stink when you b-burn them... b-broken th-things that c-can be f-fixed or... or r-reglued into s-something new."
He disguised a hiss with a cough, then grit his teeth, attempting to ignore the stutter and, in doing so, only managing to focus on it all the more. "But what did you make? Could you make them again? ...An' could you please try an' do somethin' about that stammer?"
"It's n-n-n-not so easy!" Newt croaked back with a frown, but raised a hand to tap on his chest, TAP TAP TAP, "... So you'd... rather I... d-... do this like a... a bloody monkey?"
"You don't 'ave to tap your chest," he pointed out, then quickly added, "Though, it does help. You could do somethin' as inconspicuous as tappin' thumb an' forefinger together, theoretically, correct?"
Newt's brows raised and he gave a little croak. As brilliant as he was with junk piles, he was stupid in a lot of other ways. The thought of that hadn't occurred to him, "I d-d-d-don't really... have a g-good sense of r-rhythm anyway."
"It's helpin'," Thom assured him, cracking a grin. "Keep tryin', you might surprise yourself. Back to th' weapons--what did you make?"
He looked down again, looking almost ashamed as he hopped along, aiming for the jungle as well, but with a particular direction in mind. "L-like... wh-what... wh-what did I... use on th-those g-guards?"
"Sure?" Thom shrugged, gesturing for him to continue. "What did you use, what have you made--could you make any long range weapons, do you think?"
"I... I st-stabbed the one... w-with... w-well, I had t-taken a t-t-toothbrush and... re-re-removed the b-bristles so... so I c-could lay it f-f-flat against m-my leg under... under my sh-shorts and... and sh-sharped the end like... y-you know, an awl. Th-then... w-well, you t-take as m-ma-ma-many r-razors... you know, from sh-shaving k-kits and the like, and... I re-resharpened them a b-bit with my jew-jew-jeweler's file and... epoxied them in p-place b-between the t-tongs of... of a h-half of a p-p-plastic c-comb... th-then... t-took a b-bit of st-string to wr-wrap it around... m-my... my knuckles..." He made a punching motion in the air to illustrate the possible damage. "I w-wish I c-could have... seen the d-da-da-damage... b-but... but I'll bet he'll be sc-scarred."
Stutter, stammering, every other bloody word was mangled in some horrible way by Newt's speech problem. Thom hardly processed anything the frog man was saying, and, indeed, had to run the words through his head more than once before they registered. "Brilliant...yes...well done," he muttered, rubbing his temple with his palm against the beginning of a headache. "That would be easy enough to reproduce. They still 'ave us at long range, though."
"I... I'm sure..." He noticed Thom's frustration, giving in to try the finger technique if only to avoid further violence while he was unarmed, "I could... come up with s... something... A s-sling and... r-rocks w-would be easy... b-but take pruh-pruh-practice to know how to..." while he thought about it, he forgot to tap, words running over themselves before he managed to catch himself, "There's loooo-... lots of pos... possibilities."
The attempt was noted and appreciated, though it did nothing to ease Thom's headache, merely kept him from knocking Newt out and fleeing to speak with someone who spoke properly. "A sling would be easy, but it would only take th' guards a helmet to make it ineffective. We'd need somethin' with more force. Bow an' arrows, or some such. Would that be possible?"
Newt thought about it, glancing around at the jungle as they moved through the trees. "Is th-there... any b-bamboo? H-hollow... reeds that are... thick and s-s-s-sturdy? Usually... g-grow in wet-wetlands.... we could... if you... take a puh-puh-push pin... y-you know, the t-type w-with... the sp-spindle, n-not the... f-flat type y-you..."
"I 'aven't seen any bamboo, but reeds are plentiful enough, especially around th' river. We couldn't use push pins for much more than darts, though... They couldn't do much damage, I'd think. Glass pieces, scrap metal, maybe even sharpened plastic... You said you'd been using that kind of thing, correct?"
Newt nodded, "I really j-just... n..need to col-col-collect... ma-ma-materials, and I j-just... s-see how I can put them together." He looked as though he was getting frustrated, still trying to keep his rhythm with his fingers, but it wasn't quite as easy as just speaking when he put them together. His mouth simply didn't like to cooperate, and it made him anxious that it made Thom anxious. He was thankfull the snake was being such a kind friend to him, talking to him, keeping his mind off of what had just happened... and bringing his hopes back up.
The talk had sapped a bit of his steam out, though, a bit of his old self reemerging as he veered off the path they had been somewhat taking towards a cluster of rocks deeper in hidden by thick trees and underbrush. Like a frog squirming into his den, though, he dug at the fallen ferns and suchlike he had hadn't shoved in to reveal a hole in the bushes that he could squish his fat froggy body through. "I'd... r-re-re-really j-just... b-be happy m-making pu-pu-puppets, though..." He mourned the loss of the marionettes he had made. He had been proud of them. He hoped they weren't destroyed, even if he couldn't have them.
He really didn't care where they were walking, nor did he realize they were heading a particular direction until Newt hunkered down to dig among the ferns for his collection. He grimaced, but quickly forced it away in favor of a more neutral expression, watching expectantly. There had to be a reason behind the digging, after all...right? "So keep makin' puppets. It's a good cover for whatever else you'll be makin'. Have them think you're only makin' puppets, and make weapons while their eyes are off you."
"I d-don't know... if... if th-they... c-catch me again..." His suspicions were confirmed! His stash was still there! Hidden under everything, under rocks, under dirt and worms and bugs was a bundle wrapped in a muddy brown scrap of fabric. He quickly stuffed it into the back of his shorts, tucked safely in his undergarments where he was sure no one would dare go. "It... it... it could be really bad."
"Worth the risk, isn't it?" He raised a brow at the briefly visible bundle, but didn't bother to question, figuring he didn't want to know if it was being shoved down Newt's pants. "I seriously doubt th' guards 'ave more than tranqs, so it would be easy to overwhelm them if we had the weapons to do so."
"I'd have to th-th-think about it l-longer," He murmured, squeezing back out through the bushes again with a frustrated croak as he got stuck around his middle.
He frowned, but nodded, turning as if to go. "Suit yourself. It'll get done either way. If you won't help, someone else will. After everythin' th' labs 'ave done to you, I'd thought you'd be one of th' first t' go against them. You know they're not goin' to really hurt you."
"... y-you... you... you d-don't... know what your ta-ta-talking about!" He huffed, struggling and scrambling tot ry to get himself free, but he was still wedged in pretty well. His throat inflated in embarrassment as he struggled, "Sh-she... she th-threatened to... to c-cut off my th-thumbs! He... he... he wan-wan-wan-wanted to... to eat my l-legs! He t-tasted them even!!"
"So what?!" he snapped, whirling on the frog with a hiss. "There are already people here without thumbs, Newt! Without legsss!" The word ended in a furious hiss, and the cobra's hood flared. "An' if things keep goin' as they are, there'll only be more! But you, coward that you are, would rather sit 'ere in the mud and make puppets while th' labs continue to trick people 'ere and ruin their lives!"
The frog huddled down, eyes watering as the snake spoke. "I... I... I'm n-n-not a cow-coward..." At least, he didn't want to be one anymore. He wasn't a janitor anymore, maybe he could stop being a coward as well. It was easier said than done, though. He was terrified, and it showed on his face as he lamely tried to free himself.
"Then prove it," Thom hissed, fangs bared. However, he quickly backed down, remembering he was supposed to be staying quiet, and glanced around for any cameras, though his hood remained spread. "We'll need all th' help we can get, Newt."
Newt's hands balled into fists as he looked down at the ground. He had a lot to think about. "I'm... I"m stuck..." He finally said, quietly, lamely, "C-could... could you...?"
He grimaced, half tempted to just leave Newt there, especially as unhelpful as he was being. However, he offered a hand nonetheless. He'd rather win Newt over then alienate him further by walking off.
Newt took a hold, grunting and ribbiting as he managed to dislodge himself and pop free, looking thoroughly ashamed of being stuck to begin with.
Thom freed his hand the moment Newt was clear, then turned to start for the path once more. "Let me know when you decide. Doesn't seem like th' labs're goin' t' try t' use you as bait again, so pardon me if I stop followin' you around. I'd like to get back to my own life."
Newt nodded, not blaming him as he crouched, "S-say..." He was quick to concentrate on his rhythms again, eyes closed as he tried his hardest to not stutter, "Say... Thuh... thom? You... know your way... around the jun-jun-jun-jungle... d-do.. do you know of any... little... ponds or... or swamps or....?" He wasn't sure he felt comfortable going back to his duplex. He didn't want them watching him as he cried.
He paused, but nodded, attempting to think up a particular location for the frog man. "I'm not fond of bogs, so if th' land's started lookin' like one, I've avoided it. But I've seen a few ponds around, 'ere an' there. It's 'ard to say exactly where, but they're not 'ard to find."
"C-close to the r-river? N-not t-too d-deep?" He perked up. Something to look forward to! Something the labs couldn't take away or control or fully monitor. A place to be alone. That was moist. Maybe with a nice moss grown over top to hide under. Preferably leech-free. He rather a food he didn't have to worry about eating him back.
"Define close?" He shrugged. "I can't recall any near the river, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. I 'aven't seen th' whole jungle, I could've easily missed a small pond. I've seen more creeks than ponds, 'owever, but I'm sure you could find somethin' to your tastes." It was easy to guess Newt's motives. Many islanders, himself included, favored the jungle to the duplexes. It wasn't surprising to find someone else who did.
Newt had only just made this decision a few moments ago, and it showed in teh tremble on his face. He swallowed to strengthen his resolve befor nodding, "M-m-may... maybe I'll.. s-see you around." The corners of his mouth turned up in the motion of a smile, but it was obviously forced. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times before adding, "C-could you... s... ss... say hello to Natsumi for me?"
He nodded, cracking a rather forced smile of his own. "Per'aps. Let me know if you come to a decision about th' weapons." Thom nodded a goodbye and turned to go, but paused at the request, glancing suspiciously back at Newt. His eyes narrowed and he frowned, but after a beat he relaxed and nodded his agreement, starting away. "I'll tell her you said hello."
"Th-th-thank you," Newt murmured, watching him move but made no further interest to stop him. He was hungry. He was upset. He felt numb and knew it wouldn't last. He needed to find a safe place. "And... I'll... sh-sh-she... ah...thank you." He wished he had someone to return to, to be safe with. He wasn't entirely a frog. He was a man and by golly, he needed things. Like a bog to hide in and a moss blanket to hug him to sleep. before he caused himself any further embarrassment, he gave a croak and leaped off in the opposite direction to start his real estate search.
