[PRP] Take a Walk - Rep x Sasha (violent!)

[Baneful]

As he watched the spit trail down her skin, he knew something was coming, some kind of agony, and yet, he wasn't afraid. There was no other alternative open to her but retribution. It was control in a way, a manic and desperate grasp at retaining the hold on the situation. He had made her react. He could pay the price, whatever it was, a little easier now that he'd chosen it.

But no amount of mental preparation ever really prepared you for hooks in your shoulder, pain, he could handle, could bend unnaturally into a sort of thrill, close to pleasure, the same white hot adrenaline rush. But the mental reaction was only half of it. He couldn't stop the way he cried out, couldn't stop the flinch, the desperate instinctive way he tried to free himself from the hook until he realised he was only doing himself more damage and stilled, shivering with pain and adrenaline. Somehow he refused to let his legs buckle, determined not to kneel, not to give in.

He hated her. He loathed her. He wanted to drag her to hell with him if she managed to kill him.

A chill ran through him, colder than Nona's hooks at the mention of Harrison and Jordan, and he snarled, voice raspy and hoarse from pain. "Why the ******** would I care?" Deny them to defend them. He was sorry. "Its just sex. It's always ...been just sex. Its not my ******** problem if they are or aren't."

He'd thought the hooks hurt, but in a white hot searing instant he knew what true pain was. It felt like it would never be about sex again. Someone was screaming in the most feral animal way, someone was swearing, incoherent words through gritted teeth. It sounded like him. He slumped to his knees before her as his legs gave way, but it didn't matter, all that mattered was the pain that had climbed into his body and now looked out through his eyes. Every movement was riddled with tics and twitches of pain. He retched, his stomach rebelling against the agony and the motion slumped him forward, his weight impaling him even further onto the hooks until they were the only thing holding him up. His breathing was the ragged sobs of a drowning man as he fought to regain his senses. All he could do was watch from some distant place in his own head as sheer pain instincts temporarily consumed his world, as he gave her what she wanted and could do nothing about it.

 

[bipolar bee]

Like a house of cards hit by a gentle breath, down he went.

"There, now. That wasn't so hard, was it? At my feet like a good little b***h," Nona was desummoned, leaving him to fall to the ground with a sick thud.

"Right where you belong, now, aren't you? This is just.. hmm, even better than last time, isn't it?"

She pushed him to his back and stood over him with her foot, watching him keenly with a twisted expression tainting her features. One foot lifted, the heel dropping almost casually against the puncture wound that bled from his shoulder. Sasha gave him a sweet, saccharine smile, and pushed.

"About sex, you say, oh, Rep - you are such a horrid liar. Your relationship with them is smattered all over twitter. They are your weakness, aren't they?" Sasha purred softly, applying more pressure to the wound at his shoulder.

"The way Jordan acts like he's your savior, and Harrison - oh, he just despises me, doesn't he?" She chuckled humorlessly, the wound at his shoulder making a sick squelching sound as she pulled her foot away. "They make you weak, hmm? Careless, even - but there's a part of you that just doesn't care, isn't that right?"

Sasha doubted that he was even listening to what she said. He was writhing in pain in ways that Jerry hadn't when he'd been given the same treatment. He was suffering - and in the grand scheme of things, he'd done it to himself.

"You know I could kill you right now - right now," she knelt and wrapped slender fingers around his jaw, fingers digging in tight just the way he'd done to her, "but I think keeping you alive is even worse. Knowing you've been bested by me once more - scarred by me yet again, Rep - it will just burn you up, won't it?"  

[Baneful]

Rep somehow managed to stop circling the airport and finally come in to land. He could finally smell that sharp coppery scent he'd been hoping for earlier, only this time it was him, blood dripping sickening to the floor. On his back it was no better, chest erratically rising and falling as he fought to force his body to relax, to stave off the panic that rendered him so useless. But there was no time to regain control as he found himself once again pinned at her mercy, his cry of pain twisted in defiance, fought tooth and claw not to give her satisfaction.

He wanted to argue, to push Harrison and Jordan away further, not to let her have any idea how to really hurt him. He let his head slump back against the floor. "Like you.. J..Jerrry." ******** it hurt, and he didn't even have the good ******** grace to black out, his pain tolerance so high that already his mind was trying to shut this out, trying to recede from it.

But she was right, it was the insult to his pride, the subservient place he found himself in that hurt, that was the real wounds eating at him above all else. Her touch repulsed him, the hand on his jaw a mockery of his own control earlier. Anger rankled and stoked its flames in him again, even defeated and shivering on the ground it paced in him. Sometimes he could almost imagine it as an entity itself, sloughing off his weak flesh to rampage unstoppable through his enemies, a beast of pride and hatred.

He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of having him tell her she would haunt his thoughts, that revenge would once again eat him up as the creature that was anger gnawed at its bonds. Instead, he gathered up the last of his fight, and his energy and shaking his head tried to thrash her grip from his jaw, and bite her hard for her troubles. Even if the shield mended it in an instant, the statement would be made.

 

[bipolar bee]

Sasha's eyes widened when Rep spoke Jerry's name, an irrational annoyance filling her chest and clogging her throat. It was bitter and furious and it burned like acid. Just hearing the other sun's name spewed from Rep's lips set her teeth on edge.

And she hated him just a little bit more.

That distraction caused his teeth to sink into the meaty part of the side of her hand, and with a sharp sound of surprise she promptly slapped him across the face.

Hard.

"You don't know anything about me. You don't know what makes me tick."

She straightened abruptly and resummoned Nona.

"I think I'll go pay them a visit right now, then - since you're not filled with concern for their lives, being an act and all. I saw Harrison when I went to see Jerry. He was on that mission with you - which means he might be suffering the same ill side effects. But first," she sing-songed, brushing the curve of Nona's hook against Rep's cheek, "maybe I need to give you just a little bit more to remember me by, hmm? What should I do? An 'S' across your cheek? Shall I widen your smile just a bit? Take off the tip of your nose?"  

[Baneful]

The slap rang out, leaving a sharp red welt across his face, but it didn't deter him, he was in a place beyond pain, on wings of something else entirely, that determination that kept him fighting until he dropped. He couldn't let her see how much it terrified him to think of her going after Harrison or Jordan. Couldn't concede even an inch to her threats.

"I.. I don't?" he chuckled, a forced bark of a laugh. "Its this." Cruelty, anger, seething arrogance that kept you going, gave you momentum and ambition, he felt it sometimes in her and he wanted to break it, as if doing so would somehow tame his own rage, stop it from ruling his entire life.

The hook against his cheek was chill in comparision to where her slap had landed, almost a relief. His shoulders ached with every breath, still dripping to the floor. There was a madness now in the way he fought to the last, that derisive laugh bubbling up again, dangerous and goading but unbidden.

"What ...what the ******** are ******** Zorro?"

 

[bipolar bee]

Sasha didn't hear anything he said after his first words - those four words were ringing in her ears - far too close for comfort, followed by that bark of laughter. It enraged her, infuriated her in a way that made her feel as if she were losing control. Was she really that transparent? Was it so easy to see what she was made of?

Wetting her lips, Sasha straightened. Composure was tremulous and slow to come, but when it finally spread across her face, Sasha gave Rep a tight smile. She felt off-center, no longer in control - and despite the fact that she could rip out his throat right then and there... doing so would make her feel as if he'd been able to read her intentions from the very start.

She saw red. Choked it down. It surged back up, demanded release.

In the next instant Nona was desummoned and the pointed toe of Sasha's expensive shoe was connecting with superhuman force against Rep's side.  

[Baneful]

It wasn't so easy to be derisive as she kicked him, hard enough that in a smear of blood he was sent sliding right into the nearest wall, instinctually curling into a foetal position as if it would mitigate even a fraction of the pain that screamed at him from all corners. It just made it worse. He didn't have a weapon and there was only so much his body could handle, despite his own mental pain tolerance, it had about reached its limit of what it could stand.

His breathing was a strained wheeze as he was ******** sure she had to have damaged his ribs again, the world fading in and out, black to red to black.

Swimming against the current of conciousness was hard and he determinedly gave it his best shot, but he was already carrying around injuries from the halloween dog that sniped him before the weapons were lost. The spirit was tenacious but the flesh was weak. He'd almost ******** had her. Almost.

[bipolar bee]

"In your dreams," she hissed, fighting the urge to bash Nona's hilt into his temple. Scum, vermin, a waste of time, energy and resources. He was worthless, but the sight of his blood and the rattling, labored breathing that moved his chest was her victory.

Her eyes caught on the knife he'd tried to shank her with. With a clench of her jaw she retrieved the item, deftly pocketing it. As a final farewell, she spat on him just as he had done to her before she strolled off, whistling.

She would do him no favors. Let someone stumble upon him as he lay crumpled on the floor at the edge of the empty cafeteria. She would notify nobody - which was one thing that Rep had done when he'd left both Ro and Otto on the training field to bleed ********> Rep.  

[Rown]

Unfortunately for Sasha or fortunately for Rep, however it wanted to be looked like, a certain red-head with a love of cooking and a want of a sandwich happened to be passing by the cafeteria on her way into the kitchens. She was hungry, the stupid infirmary food tasted like s**t and she wanted to make something for herself, and Ofelia was halfway into the area when she noticed the smell first and foremost. Blood had an acrid smell no matter how old or how new, and her nose instantly wrinkled as she set about trying to find the source.

It took her a moment, softly padding about the ground, when the sickening sound of her flip-flop being stuck to something well, sticky, forced her to step and look down. And then look back up, hurry up her pace, and find the source in the corner. It was Rep, ever gross looking, ever. . .well, what the hell had happened. He was the source of the blood, of the smell, and if it wasn't for the fact that it looked like there was blood bubbling out of him still she could have and would have easily taken him for a corpse.

"What t'hell happened ta ya?" Ofelia's tone was awfully calm for someone who'd come up on a person bleeding out all over the floor, but part of her wondered if she should think it couldn't have happened to a nicer person or if she needed to get him to the hospital and see if his life could be saved.

Even though she was pretty sure he wanted to skin her alive every time he saw her, Ofelia liked Rep. They were fellow fingers, and well. . . .if she saved his life maybe he'd eat more of her food in the future. It was a win/win/wtf Ofelia in her mind, but that was all good. Crouching down she pulled his wrist out, totally ignoring protocols for wounded people, and felt for a pulse. It was there, weak, and so she needed to get him to the infirmary. Seeing as she was injured about her shoulders and neck dragging him would be a bad idea, not to mention she didn't think either of them could make the journey in that manner, and so the teen set out to find something to carry him there.

There were no rolling carts in the kitchen, she didn't want to shove him on a dolly, and so Rep had to deal with the indignity of being treated like a movie star. If that movie star happened to be one from "Weekend at Bernie's" and he was a corpse being rolled down the hallway in a rolling chair.

He wasn't even seated in it properly, Ofelia basically draped him over it the best she could, and she was pushing against his butt and hip to keep the chair rolling. If she tried pushing it from behind he would have fallen over and there was a chance for more injury. She had been as gentle as possible in her lifting of him, his blood getting all over the front of her shirt and sides of her arms, but now that he was in it was just a matter of getting him there quickly and safely.

The pair were in the hall, her steps carrying her as fast as she could go, and along the way she took a few pauses to catch her breath, tweeting the current situation and asking for help. A glance over her shoulder had let her know there was a stream of blood behind, stuff everywhere, and when someone answered with how to clean it up she closed her phone and tucked it into her pocket.

Rep was bleeding harder laying the way he was, if he died it would be entirely her fault, so it was with a groan and some super careful adjusting that she got him back in the seat properly. His legs would drag the ground as they went, not that they weren't before, but now everything would be okay. "S'okay, s'okay, Ah'm not gonna let ya die."

She could only repeat those words, chant them, as they got closer. When the pair finally made it in life techs swarmed them, leading her away from him and Ofelia took one final look at her fellow sun before he was moved away for treatment. She would come and see him when this was over, because it was what she needed to do. Until then he would need to rest, need to recover, and Jordan and Harrison would be swarming to his sides like bees to a flower. Rep would need to tell them what happened, Ofelia wasn't going to speak of it.

He wouldn't even really need to know she saved him.

Unless he looked on twitter and found out.

Oops.

[ permission to help given from bane ]  

[Toshihiko Two]

Harrison should be angry, he knew. And he had been. Furious about <******** priorities, that cleaning techniques were more important than basic first aid, that Rep had been allowed to bleed out, that Rep had been attacked at all, that he hadn't been there- Rep had his fair share of enemies. But the more he dwelled on it, the more the emotions leeched away, and all he was left with was a deep, cold, pit, and the resolution that somebody out there better be praying Rep wasn't dead.

And if they'd touched him-

He still had B0nez in a gym bag.

There were two lives at stake, and the second one, nobody had mentioned.

He started at the infirmary. And when it turned out Rep was with the doctors, he opted out of the waiting area and followed the spots of blood, until they became smears.

He didn't analyze the scene too hard. Cass would know what happened. ...There were footprints, like Ofie had said. Those damn flipflops she always wore. The other set-

Not Dakota. Unless he liked to wear heels.

Harrison found what he was looking for. Bloodier than he wanted to stomach, but heavy still, at least...he unzipped the backpack, then tenderly felt the bottom of the bag, in case anything had chipped off- or- fine. He was fine. Intact.

He zipped the bag back up, taking his time to make sure it was secure, then headed back to the infirmary.  

[prolixity]

The techs had shooed Jordan off, informed him that they were still stitching Rep's shoulders up and that he could go in when they were done; one of the nurses had shot him a cold look that implied that she wondered why they were making the effort at all. That, too, had hurt.

He sat in the waiting room, hands cradling the bag that held Ferros, and waited. He should have been there. Rep had been increasingly tense and off-kilter, primed to go off in some unpredictable way without Tracey to counsel him, and Jordan knew that. He'd been wrapped up in his own concerns, his own aches and pains, physical and otherwise. It was a poor excuse. He should have been paying more attention. Should have been there. Rep had provoked someone, or just run into the wrong person at the wrong time, and they were still painfully weak, vulnerable and human without the weapons' protection.

When Harrison appeared, he looked up, noted the bloodied bag. "You've got Tracey?"  

[Toshihiko Two]

"Yeah," Harrison said, unshouldering the backpack and arranging it carefully in his lap.

"He's okay. Whoever did it must have missed him. They tell you-" his voice shook, he steadied it, "they tell you what kind of injuries he's got?"  

[prolixity]

"Shoulders, they said. Inflicted by a weapon," Jordan answered, keeping his voice even with an effort. "Whoever got to him must not have been on the mission." He rubbed a hand over his face. "s**t. I should've been with him."  

[Toshihiko Two]

"Shoulders," Harrison repeated, and it was easier this time. Tracey was a heavy type weapon, and Rep used his shoulders more than anything, it was a ******** vicious part of his body to target. But with Dakota's threats and Ofie's texts, there were worse scenarios.

Harrison reached out to take Jordan's hand, and grip it firmly. His expression was hard.

"Feels like every time we turn our backs, there's someone looking to take advantage. Whoever it is, pound for pound they're gonna pay for what they did. And you can bet Tracey won't be shy about extracting his share either."  

[prolixity]

Jordan twined his fingers into Harrison's, grateful for the contact. Touch was like a lifeline, a necessary connection, when he was so terribly alone. "He'll make it," he said. "We'll make it. We'll get our own back."