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Gale Otto, with a crumpled piece of paper in hand, was traversing the training fields on his way to some other place. He could not for the life of him figure out how to start his so called specialization. Convincing whiny little Halloween kids to join the dark side was not his specialty. He sucked at getting people to like him, trust him, or anything that involved him speaking at all. Talking was a definitely not his forte.

So why was he given this slip of paper? This blank list with the title of weapon's candidates? Couldn't he do something a bit more in his expertise? Even if his expertise lied in running away from danger...

Speaking of Danger, wasn't that Cael in the not so distance? He might have answers, or maybe he'd chop off Otto's head.

. . .

Worth a shot, anyway.

Otto got close enough to speak, was about to yell out to his supierior, thought better of it, and composed himself a little better.

"Sir?" Yeah, good start.. "What the Hell am I supposed to do with this thing?" ********. "I Ain---....I'm not so great at whatever this is.."

Oh s**t.

Otto had made some pretty terrible life decisions in his time, but this was possible the stupidest. He'd gone to Caelius, of all people, admitting he was pretty much a useless sac of goo.

He gulped, hoping the Death lead's blood lust was sustained enough from his recent kill to spare Otto's life for now. Perhaps enough time to smooth over his obvious blunder enough to turn the lead's attention elsewhere.

Otto rubbed his temple, frantically looking for a way to make s**t look like gold. Right, he asked what would be better for him. Okay! All he had to do was suggest something way better than this to---

. . . BUT OTTO HAD NO TALENTS TO SPEAK ******** style="color: olive"><>

Yeah... yeah we're joinin' Mr. Goo down there real soon.

Otto stood a little straighter, attempting to look bigger than he really was. Maybe he would have looked a bit more triumphant if his hood had not been adorned with cat ears thanks to Kat's revenge some time ago,

He quickly slid the hood off his head to save some dignity. Okay. It's time. Time to spew pure bullshit.

"Well.. since this list thing needs someone with a lot more charisma--" <> "--aaaah I was gunna suggest more along the lines of observation missions. I can sneak and run better than I can talk. I'm also oka---good at summarizing and organizing data." Mostly because point form was quicker than actually writing s**t down.

Zoobey

<> Tenya helpfully pointed out. Otto refrained from commenting, entirely too busy trying to save his skin at the moment.

On one hand he felt he shouldn't be so afraid of Caelius, given that the man had never actually dealt him physical harm directly as far as she could recall. On the other hand, Otto's will to live was still enormously high. No death wishes as of yet.

Still, this all felt like some horrible nightmare. Why did he do this again? Oh right, cause he knew he had no chance of doing the job he'd been handed properly. It was a guaranteed failure before he began. And asking Mark for help was like asking a fish to translate latin.

He couldn't very well ask Caelius to simply 'give him a chance' at some random mission he could pull out of his pompous a-hole. Again, that would be reaffirming Otto's lack of anything to offer the temperamental lead.

Otto opened his mouth, hoping words would magically happen. He closed it a moment later.

He had nothing. Absolutely nothing. This by far had to be the scariest moment in his life. Giant scorpions, evil Horsemen and brain slugs had nothing on this.

...okay maybe some of those were more terrifying.

"I can't specify." He admitted, albeit with an obvious hint of fear. How he had come to be a full Hunter in the death division was beyond his comprehension.

Was there a word for the emotion of feeling awkward yet terrified? Whatever it was, that was what Otto was feeling. Caught between being afraid to think, and unable to stop thinking. Thinking of what could possible transpire in the long and silent moments, thinking of ways he could have spent his time today instead of whatever this was.

As Caelius passed right by him, Otto was almost relieved. It couldn't be that easy. The Death lead surely didn't just give him a second chance.

He was right. He didn't.

Pain didn't register at first. His very intimate meeting of face and dirt had been so fast it simply didn't register that it should have hurt. It was obvious who had hit him. He didn't need to see, which was convenient since he wouldn't have the time or ability to get up and look back.

What he had not expected was a second hit. By the same idiotic naiveté that had led him to approach His Majesty, he truly believed a meeting with the dirt had been punishment enough for opening his silly, souther mouth.
His jaw clenched tightly as pain in fact registered. The third hit hurt the most, the horrid feeling of an unnatural twist of his body sending loud and ripping pain through his shoulder. He wasn't sure if he had yelled out in agony at all, his ears burning and numb from some mix of pain and turmoil.

Could he even have an arm after all was said and done? It bent and strained so far beyond its form that Otto almost felt like cutting it off would be more humane.

While most of his senses were focused on reminding Otto he was not immortal nor immune to pain, his sense of hearing picked up every sharp word Caelius hissed out. While he was sure he'd likely not impale himself because a piece of paper told him to, those other things suddenly didn't sound so hard anymore.
Impossible, yes... but favorable as opposed to this.

Zoobey

Why was he still there?

At first he was afraid to move, but when he did dare to attempt to stir or even blink, he was once again knocked flat on his a**, back to kissing the familiar dirt of the training field. He'd royally screwed up this time. It looked like he was Caelius's new chew toy.

His next 'order' was obeyed without a second thought, as if his body was not at his control. Part of him wanted to summon Tenya, but he had a feeling it would not do much good against the dark haired lead.

Still, it was very tempting. Otto's pride wanted to see Caelius eat dirt.

Things seemed to go black, and all he could feel was pain; as if he'd just been hit by a train and shot around a pin-ball machine. Obvious places hurt more than others, such as the dislocated arm, but some pains he could no longer place. His eyes blearily opened, barely managing even that. He didn't even want to know what the loud crack was. He was going to pretend it was Caelius's weapon breaking into pieces. Just for now.

Another order came from a voice that both terrified and angered the boy. Get up? Again? For what? To get struck down over and over. Maybe there would come a point where he could no longer hear His Highness mutter that phrase again if he just continued to obey. But he couldn't. He could sense his mind sending the order to his body, but no part of him obeyed. Everything hurt, but nothing worked.

Sharp blades of pain tore through his joints as the lead dragged him off his feet. His teeth clenched as he hissed in lieu of screaming. What was the point of restraining his agony now? Caelius obviously had the satisfaction of winning before anything had begun, but Otto's pride somehow still held on by a tiny thread.

Oh goody. A lecture. These things were always more fun while he felt like he was dying.

Otto knew Caelius was psycho. The look in the Death lead's eyes was clue enough, coupled with his past behavior. The cherry on top of this cake was his view of his underlings. Most, if not everyone around the black haired hunter, were simply toys. Only slightly useful in the broad spectrum of things, and the only reason they continued to live was through Caelius's so called 'good graces'. As long as Otto remained 'human' enough to entertain on a mildly soap opera level, he might live to see another day. Maybe that was why so many drama queens he could name still breathed his air.

Caelius posed a question. One of many statements Otto wasn't aware of the answer to. Coasting by and having others take the fall for short comings no longer worked when he was face to face with Death itself. On the plus side, he was kind of impressed Caelius knew his full name by heart, considering how many other 'worms' the taller man likely encountered in his days.

Now, Otto had a choice here; remain stubbornly sassy and possibly die, or really try his best to come up with a decent answer for the man who had his life in his clutches.

Surprisingly, it was a toss up.

"Is there actually a right answer to that question?" He drawled deliriously.

Otto winced, ready for another hit when a voice that did not belong to Caelius spoke up. Who was that? Surely not the probably dead Lab Tech on the ground. His narrowed gaze flicked to the side, spotting Super b***h Sam there. At first he was kind of scared she'd get hit instead when Caelius started to move, but to his relief, he was gone. Something else now held his amusement, thankfully.

It took a moment before he realized he'd dropped to the ground, feeling that familiar embrace of the training field's dirt. The hand that began to drag his body up again was much softer and less angry than the one he'd become fairly intimate with in the last however long he'd been spending with Caelius. Sam was still here? Evidently, yes.

"Well I did eat like five candy bars this mornin'." He begrudgingly joked regarding his weight, his drawl heavier as each word felt like he was lifting one hundred tons with his tongue.

"Yeah.. thank you." More of a murmur than actual spoken words, but a thank you nonetheless. The fact Sam liked him enough to drag his a** to safety was a real surprise. Part of him wondered if it was a delusion brought on by a concussion.

Her advice seemed so obvious in hindsight. Maybe Otto had become too comfortable and cocky in his downtime and completely forgot who he was dealing with. And now he'd have to try and avoid being in the same building as His Highness if he wanted to get out of his line of sight. Next meeting he might end up being used as an 'example' after all, if he wasn't careful.

"I'm yer friggin fish?" He drawled with a weak attempt at a glare pointed at the ground. "Yeah... That makes me feel all gooey inside." That was like... below cat level!

The familiar air of the Life Labs was no welcome sight, smell or sound. He'd become a bit too familiar with hospital visits in the last year. Obviously, he really wasn't taking care of himself very well.

Sam's offer, and words, were very welcome after the beat down he'd received. When he wasn't feeling like he might suffer an aneurism, he'd have to take her up on that offer. His nose crinkled as smoke drifted by, his limbs too useless to swat away the offending smell.

He flinched and attempted another glare as she poked his cheek, "Yeah, I'll try." So now he owed her a favour, but at the same time, she'd be helping him out with his assignment. Though he got his a** handed to him, dislocated an arm, and likely bruised his everything? In the end, he did get what he was looking for, right? Right.

Just... he wouldn't be as stupid about it next time.