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duplicitymemes2021-07-10 08:20 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2021-07-10 08:20 am
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TDM #19
« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »
« « « ALL ON DISPLAY
» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «
It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy. This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses. To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues. ... and you're here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity. After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a clear plastic top and pants along with clear plastic boots to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of orientation. If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You're a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your high rise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You're a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you'll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms. ...At least, this would normally be the case. Enjoy your free time until orientation! Participation is mandatory by all new and old arrivals. The weather is stormy and miserable. There's flooding. Quite a bit of it. |
» » » VIRTUAL VOYAGE
 (cw: voyeurism, privacy violations)Ordinarily, new arrivals to Duplicity are sent on a tour of the city by train, but with the tracks currently underwater this month's tour is a little different. Instead they will assemble in a conference room on the third floor of the Orientation Center and watch a video that highlights the many beautiful locations of the Up, such as White Wall Bridge, Fiddler's Square, and North Park, complete with cheesy voiceover. The video also displays some… less beautiful landmarks in the Down, though that segment is shorter and much less complimentary. After the video concludes, it's time for the interactive portion of the tour! Tablets will be handed out, though there aren't enough for everyone so some people will have to share. These tablets are set up with a program allowing characters to look through various cameras in public areas around the city. They can click from one camera view to the next to explore or tap the 'randomize' button and see where they end up. There seems to be a glitch with the latter feature, however, that enables it to tap into camera feeds that aren't part of the carefully curated tour path. Security cameras in the lobbies and hallways of apartment buildings, hidden cameras in hotel rooms, webcams, and even the cameras on the communication devices that they all carry — any of these might pop up amidst the regular street views. Characters may suddenly find themselves a silent third party to a video call or spying on another LIER in an intimate moment. The question is, will they keep watching or click away? |
« « « SOGGY SLEEPOVER
 Due to the ongoing watery crisis, temporary accommodations have been arranged for until new arrivals are able to move into their assigned housing. Officials explain that the Submissive housing in the Down is partially flooded out and that the Dominant building in the Up, while not faring nearly as badly, has been experiencing electrical issues. As the apartments available to new Dominants are mainly on higher floors, this means an exhausting climb when the power goes out. In either case, the situation is not ideal. For now, Submissives are given blankets and sleeping bags in a hastily cleared-out hotel ballroom. There's plenty of floor space to spread out, but little else with which to create a sense of privacy. An adjoining set of restrooms provides the basic facilities (including a lube dispenser!) though a bath in the sink is as good as it gets for hygiene. Several room service carts loaded with bottled water and suggestively-named cheap pre-packaged snacks are refilled twice daily at meal times. If the Submissives sheltering here wish to better their circumstances, well, perhaps they should find a Dom to shack up with and sign a contract. Dominants each get a room to themselves, though LIEs haven't exactly sprung for the fanciest accommodations. Five star? Not even close. The rooms are small and garishly decorated, with minimal amenities. There's a tv on the dresser that only gets five channels — four of which are porn and the remaining channel is local news and weather. (No matter which channel you're watching, the immediate forecast is: wet.) At least they have a full bathroom. The hotel isn't serving food, but a few complimentary meal vouchers for a nearby restaurant can be found on the nightstand along with a 'sexy' welcome basket consisting of lube packets and a cheap vibrating dildo. All Dominants are strongly encouraged to visit the emergency Submissive shelter and rescue a Sub in need. PSAs featuring sad stock photos will be sent to their devices as a reminder. |
« « « TAKE THE STAIRS
 (cw: aphro, dub-con)With the steadily rising water and heavy rain, Duplicity’s utilities are feeling the strain of being increasingly waterlogged. The city is dotted with pockets of temporary power outages lasting a few hours at a time. It’s concerning, but there isn’t much city officials and engineers can do about their soaked infrastructure. All they can do is try to manage the blackouts and pray that a citywide one doesn’t befall the Up and Down. The area where the Orientation Center is situated is unfortunately prone to losing power, and those characters who decide to take the elevator instead of the stairs while attending Orientation may find themselves stopped in the dark with the doors sealed shut. The emergency system kicks in after a minute with dim red lighting and a voice over the intercom tells those trapped to keep calm. In addition to the emergency lights, a recording of smooth jazz will play over the intercom and air laced with a special blend of aphrodisiac will filter into the enclosed space. One last message over the intercom from whoever is on the other end reassures the stuck parties that the main power should be back on in an hour and in the meantime they should relax. So, what will you do with your trapped elevator buddy? You may find yourself wanting to sit next to them and open up about your feelings. Maybe you're feeling blabby, ready to get some things off your chest, or maybe you're more touchy-feely and you'd prefer to let your body do the talking. You have time, so why not take comfort in one another while waiting for the power to resume? |
« « « GET WET
 (cw: aphro, altered mental states, dub-con, exhibitionism)With the water level now at an all time high and with no sign of stopping, the locals are trying to avoid going out in it as much as possible. This need to stay dry (or at least not wade through murky water on the streets) has created quite a few job opportunities for those looking to make a quick buck. Whether it’s helping transport someone on a makeshift raft by pushing them slowly through the street or delivering food and other orders to customers, the demand is there. New arrivals will be offered these gigs, regardless of designation. Whether they decide to take on the jobs is up to them, but the incentive to do so includes an offer of better accommodations in a penthouse suite of Somass Hotel for those who provide the best service. It’s certainly an upgrade compared to the other lodgings that are available. Of course, there’s good reason the locals want to stay as dry as possible, aside from the annoyance of soggy clothes and pruney fingers. The murky water is contaminated with run-off chemicals from the waterlogged storm drains, that, with extended exposure, may cause irrational and impulsive behavior, especially with regards to sex. Get in an argument? Better fuck to make up. Want to bargain for a deal? Use your body. See someone whose rain boots are pretty stylish? Compliment them by offering yourself. Cause a problem with sex? Solve it with… even more sex. There’s also an even more unexpected side effect that’s cropped up - the urge to sing and dance in the rain, as if putting on an impromptu burlesque show. Wet clothes will be shed and tossed aside in the fervor of the act, baring it all to the elements and whatever audience might’ve formed in the process to watch the spectacle. |
« « « MOD & OOC NOTES
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, characters will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chooses "left" or "right". When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass". This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice. To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide: If your character can swim well and independently, they’re a Submissive. If your character cannot swim at all or needs assistance (flotation device), they’re a Dominant. To Note: Characters can only swap their designation for one of the following reasons: an event occurs that allows it or there are OOC reasons that make it a necessity. Any swap always requires mod approval and each character can only ever switch once. Characters that are being reapped will keep their previous designation but players can choose to use new TDMs with different designations for fun! Test Drive threads can be used as activity proofs for characters currently in-game. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have a good time!! |
TAKE THE STAIRS
So.
Lakshmi's gone but she got him some decent clothes before she left. He wears a hoodie underneath, though, pulled up to hide the scars so he's got some slim margin of control over how he moves in a crowd. A jacket that's thick enough to serve as makeshift armor and hide all his hidden weapons. Boots that are nice enough to disguise that they're steel-toed. Makeshift, Insurrectionist-like armor.
Not enough to go against someone in a full rig. Not nearly enough.
Sharkface curls his lip. Like that's ever stopped him. ]
Should've known you'd show up here.
no subject
felix memorized every ink-mottled feature and stat he could dig up on terrence ephemera from the tartarus' abysmally outdated archives. his face isn't an easy one to forget, even half-obscured under a hood. what did his dossier say? volatile. classified high-risk, special management strongly recommended.
and they're sharing a stalled elevator. perfect. )
Oh, stow the fucking salt, my guy. This particular sabbatical is entirely involuntary.
( he meets sharkface's unbridled contempt with something equally scathing, armor on top of armor to conceal his weakest points. it's an uncomfortable, disorienting feeling, like floating in zero grav without an anchor, and instinct tells him he should square the fuck up before this asshole slides a knife into his spine while he's got his back turned. bad habit, gates. watch your six.
instead he holsters his knife and crouches low, sliding his thumb along the gap between the floor and the elevator doors. he rocks back on his haunches to peer up at the ceiling next. ventless. )
We're being gassed. ( the leak has to be coming from somewhere. then: ) Did you lose all your shit on the way in?
no subject
Enough. It was only the last time that things turned too far.
He flashes his teeth. A sharp, animal grin. ]
Yep. Your rig's got a puncture, huh?
[ Or something. Some damage that can't be compensated for because Sharkface doesn't know a ton about Felix or care to, but he knows mercenary ruthlessness. If Felix could field this safe behind an environmental seal, he would. And now they're locked in a metal box together. Only one of them has armor, but that could change.
It's harder to go against someone in a full rig. Harder, not impossible. Even the armor has weak points. Back of the neck. Throat. Joints. Places where only the undersuit covers, sacrificing heavier protection for mobility. Felix is fast but Carolina was faster. There's always an opening to take if you're willing to commit. ]
Your partner here?
[ He'd rather not go against both of them. It'd distract from what he needs to do. But if it's just Felix, then that fucker's got armor and that might just be worth taking. ]
no subject
felix takes it personal. )
You bet.
( the last person felix wants to think or talk about is samuel ortez, but lying is a reflex he honed a long time ago and this is an easy, mindless lie. locus his partner. locus his shadow. locus his rifle scope fixed for a fucking headshot. they've moved in sync since the ugliest parts of the war, two halves of one viciously efficient whole. why wouldn't he be here?
he stays crouched, elbows braced over his knees, and cocks his head toward sharkface. )
Shipped in a week ago in full form and cranky glory. I can't get away from that guy. ( a lingering pause. ) You haven't seen him?
( his smile — saccharine sweet, hidden beneath a reflective visor — threads through every word. he's got his softest parts to him: multiple hit points in the vertebral column that aren't protected by titanium alloy and the fusion reactor that powers his entire rig, nestled neatly between his shoulders. he won't go for the reactor. too risky in such an enclosed space, and he wants the armor intact, presumably. everything else is collateral damage.
he stands, arching into a full-body stretch, then wheels around to prop his shoulder against the elevator doors. )
I guess you wouldn't, would you? Locus doesn't like to be seen.
no subject
It stuck as well as these things could. His scars got him all twisted up, hurting and slow before he learned how to compensate. Now?
Now it's just more armor, and he knows better than to buy anything that Felix is selling. Theirs was a business arrangement and now they've got no business. Now, Felix is the only fucker in this city with armor.
Sharkface stays where he is, watching Felix in the dark. Could try it here. It'll get messy, loud. Felix has all his weapons and it's gonna be a bitch to field a ricochet in here. And people might here the noise. Might come running when they realize what's happening isn't more of the selfsame fucked-up porno this place runs on.
Nah. Better to wait. Plan it out better, consider his angles. See if Locus really is waiting in the wings. An alliance might serve better then. Presumably, no one wants to stay here. ]
Don't think he'd like this place much.
[ He flexes his hands. Considers the angles yet again. What would it get him if he just went for it? Damage, certainly. Felix is fast, isn't a goddamn moron. The trap's an obvious one. But Sharkface knows he's fast, too. If he commits, if he angles it just so, that might work.
Might. Probably won't. This is a bad angle. Too many variables and not enough of a reward to justify it just yet. Bide your time, soldier. He still knows how to be patient when it suits him. ]
Relax. They don't kill people around here.
[ He snorts. Flashes his teeth in the dark. ]
I haven't even been shot once since I got here.
[ Sliced up a few times, but whatever. He wonders if this was what it was like before the war. People walking around - no armor, no guns, no nothing. Uncanny. ]
no subject
( super fuck that. too bad he didn't stay dead because rotting in the ground would've been more appealing than living here.
they've settled into an uneasy stalemate: sharkface in one corner, and felix at the doors, leaned sideways with his hip cocked and arms crossed like they're two strangers killing time instead of two almost-colleagues contemplating the merits of killing each other. he studies him through a shrouded sliver in his lashes. big guy, no doubt. he's a solid wall of muscle built on years of loyal service to a lost cause. his civvies look inconspicuous enough, but people like sharkface don't go anywhere without packing a little heat, just in case.
felix is geared up and starved. he could take him. he wants to take him, crack him down the center and drink him dry.
except.
his specific unit was primed and trained primarily for covert engagement with the covenant, not insurrectionists and their guerilla warfare shit. he can count on one hand the number of times his ground reconnaissance team ran into some broken rebel cell bombed out of hiding by the covenant themselves or — god fucking forbid — a spartan, and each chance encounter was no less violent or chaotic despite the insurrection's dwindling numbers. by the time he hit reach in 2548, they'd been mostly beat into submission courtesy of a joint effort between the spartans and the odst's illustrious 105th.
nothing left for force recon to mop up, after that. the war had shifted gears, and the innies were out, old news, a lesser threat to the covenant empire and their unholy, world-destroying weapons. felix knows one two hundred and fifty words in sangheili, but he doesn't know the first thing about how sharkface fights, and that makes him infinitely harder to predict.
a second warning blips over his hud. felix blinks it away and thuds his head against the door, metal clanking metal. whatever. time to test a nerve. )
You know, ( drawled at the vowels, innocently conversational, ) I looked into you on the Tartarus. Your file was scrubbed. Not all of it, obviously, but enough to bug the absolute shit out of me. ( paragraphs upon paragraphs of corrupted text, everything before his stint with the insurrection blacked out in chunks as if he never existed, as if he's always been just sharkface. ) You break a couple hearts up in HIGHCOM, Terrence? Fuck 'em and leave 'em? I always wondered what you must've done.
( or who he was, more accurately. )
no subject
Why'd you care? You that bored?
[ In truth, neither Locus nor Felix asked and there was no reason to spell it out when he could demonstrate his skill easily enough. The deal was to kill Freelancers and they paid him in armor. A partnership of convenience. Why bother being people to each other? He figured they'd screw him over in the end. Didn't matter, so long as he got his opening.
But they're not going anywhere. They can talk, or they can stew in the dark and stare at each other. Sharkface snorts. ]
Killed some fuckers over in officer country. Guess they didn't want that shit out there in the universe.
no subject
either way, he wasn't walking off chorus. no loose ends. eventually, provided that the freelancers didn't fuck him up first, felix would put him down like the feral dog he was, and they'd move on to the next gig, that much richer. that was the plan.
together. goddamnit. )
Easier than talking to you. ( almost defensive because he's thinking too much, and thinking leads to chinks in his figurative armor. pull it back, walk it off. locus doesn't matter. sharkface doesn't matter. he swallows, wets his bottom lip with his tongue. tries again: ) I don't know if you know this about yourself since self-reflection doesn't seem to be your thing, but you're a very unpleasant and off-putting individual.
( he should've guessed it'd be something like that, anyway. fragging an officer, let alone multiple officers, is an offense punishable by death, and it's a wonder he even made it to the tartarus in one piece once the unsc got their greedy hands on him. )
Fucking with an officer is about as unsubtle of a fuck you as you can get.
( which is completely in line with everything felix knows about sharkface. he's as subtle as a punch to the dick. )
I'm surprised you weren't nailed to the wall for it.
no subject
Yeah, Price thought so too.
[ Oh, he hadn't said it quite that blatantly, but Sharkface knows therapy speak. And he knows men like Price, in the end. That little fucker spent some significant time trying to suss him out, trying to see what made him tick it was some big secret. The higher ups tried to send to therapy after his psych assessment one time, and one time only, and that time he broke the cuffs and tried to break that asshole officer's face because they were in front of him and really, really, what did they fucking expect?
Wasn't hard to spot the thread. Wasn't hard to shut it down, either.
Sharkface flashes his teeth, like an animal. He prefers talking with Felix, he thinks. Unlike with Price, they're not pretending they're civilized. ]
Oh, they tried. But my people, we were good. We got it done. Feet first to hell and back again.
[ He wonders if Felix knows that cadence. It doesn't really matter. War's over and Felix never struck him as a true believer, anyway. ]
no subject
the comparison to price is momentarily discarded ( gross ) because that's a line he hasn't seen or heard in a long time, since the unsc plastered propaganda posters on every brick wall on every planet in the inner colonies in their mission to transform gullible young boys and girls into covenant cannon fodder. the biggest joke in the galaxy. he fell for that shit, too, in an adjacent direction.
he lifts his head, focus sharpening on sharkface's shadowed face under the hood, like a missile seeking its mark. )
A Helljumper. You're fucking with me. Really.
( he isn't. it'd be a dumbass thing to lie about, and sharkface isn't the type to idolize a faraway fantasy like the odsts for no reason unless he was one. the man has zero chill. )
You 105th?
no subject
[ Nothing that flashy, that famous. Theirs were quiet orders and loud brutalities, the sort of thing command tended to sweep aside. Cost of war. Somebody has to do the ugly shit. Somebody has to clean house and drop the dead out the airlock. He served. He believed, for a while.
He watches Felix intently. More than anything, he wants a goddamn cigarette. Something to pass the time. And so he gets one out. Presses it between his teeth as he fishes the lighter out. Felix still might go for him - and he'd have the advantage, they both know it - but oh, what's the point in getting paranoid? ]
But I ran with a couple of them back in the day.
[ Adjacent drops. ODST's insular. Gossipy. Smaller than people thought, too, especially with how fast everybody died. ]
You?
no subject
the war officially ended over four years ago, wrapped up at the hands of a spartan at the cost of entire planets and millions of lives turned to smoke and dust. felix doesn't think about it anymore. ortez liked to talk about it sometimes, as if talking about their feelings would change how everything went down, and sometimes he wouldn't shut up until felix threw a ceramic mug at his head, shattered to jagged pieces against the wall. he learned to stop asking after the fifth or sixth broken mug. stubborn fucking asshole.
felix feels a little like that now. exposed, all his nerves rubbed raw. this was a mistake. )
5th Force Recon. Reach.
( to his credit, his voice doesn't catch on that last word. he's steady, toneless, like they're discussing the shitty weather and even shittier elevator music. he rolls his shoulders and tears his eyes away from sharkface, staring dimly at the strobing red ceiling lights. )
KIA'd, officially. I guess the UNSC made stupid bitches out of all of us, but I got the last laugh.
( he always does, one way or another. )
no subject
Shit.
[ He wasn't there on Reach, but he heard. Everyone did. ]
Whatever doesn't kill you.
[ Whatever doesn't kill you will live to regret it, he doesn't finish. Another of the sergeant's lessons. ]
Locus, too?
no subject
( it sounds practiced, methodical. a built-in muscle he can't stop from twitching once touched. he should've let the freelancers kill him, he should've killed him himself, he should've left him to die in new alexandria, should've, should've, should've. )
He's all my bad karma personified into a scowly human form. Such a constant buzzkill.
( what the fuck is he even talking about anymore? who cares. he's pretty sure — 98% sure at least — that sharkface was a single microsecond away from smashing his faceplate in not even ten minutes ago, and now they're reminiscing about the war like crotchety old veterans at midday brunch. sentimentality is a dead thing for the dead people who never learned how to scorch it out of them or cut it off at the head before it spread like a disease to paralyze the other limbs. that's not him. he survives. lock it up, isaac. pathetic.
it's the gas, prickling into his suit through the broken seal, knocking him off his center. has to be. he's too tight in his own skin.
as sharkface smokes, felix blinks twice and retrieves the alert on his hud. chemical compound unknown. sharkface hadn't seemed particularly surprised or concerned when felix mentioned it, so it wasn't lethal. unless it was and he was lying. maybe. that'd be some petty, spiteful shit felix would do.
his eyes slide to sharkface, considering. he's all bulk and distorted angles in the half-dark, severe and brooding. nah. not his style. he doesn't have the finesse. )
What's in the gas, sweetest?
no subject
He feels warm. That was how it started last time. Later, he won't be able to think clearly.
Sharkface bares his teeth in the dark. He wonders if Felix has started feeling it, too. ]
Some porno world shit. Didn't you hear?
[ There's hatred churning in his voice then. Not for Felix specifically - he doesn't know enough about Felix to hate the man - but this moment. The way his skin will start feeling too tight in about a minute. That assumption that they're going to fuck because why wouldn't people fuck in this situation? And the fact that he has no armor and Felix does, and oh, that's going to matter soon enough. It always does. ]
no subject
they're trapped in a city fueled by sex, not a backwater planet on the brink of total annihilation. uncharted territory, full of new sights and sounds and involuntary dosings of aphrodisiacs. of course it'd be some bizarro shit like this.
immediately, ) That's fucking hilarious.
( absolutely fucked up, but hilarious.
if sharkface wasn't sharkface, felix would take the path of least resistance, easy. he doesn't give a shit. what's one rough orgasm wrung out of him to another? but he has gear to guard, and a man who would rather see him dead than even think about rubbing up on his dick for a five minute quickie. he doesn't blame him for that, either. this was only ever going to shake down one way. )
Well, fuck. All right. ( on a sigh, begrudgingly resigned. ) I know your type.
( tense. so tightly wound at the seams he's one loose thread away from busting open completely. overclocked rage with nowhere to go but out and everywhere, god rest everything in the blast zone. defensive. armed to the teeth, most likely. they can play real nice, or.
they can do what they were built to do. )
You wanna two-step, Ephemera?
( leisurely, like he has all the time in the world. he eases away from the wall and snaps his knife from his holster into his open palm, then lifts his hand, blade flat, beckoning him forward with a slight tilt of his wrist. )
Let's dance a little.
no subject
Odds aren't with him here. Punctured or not, Felix has a full rig. All sorts of weapons. Two reasons he might've gone for a blade and not a gun. One: ricochet. You never can predict a bad angle. Two: the thrill of it. Unsurprising, Sharkface thinks blandly, and stubs the cigarette out on the wall. He's probably gonna get sliced up. Might even get dead.
Might not, though. And isn't that just fun?
Sharkface grins, pushing his hood back. ]
You know, Carolina's faster than you.
[ His tone is almost conversational. The blade he draws from his sleeve isn't. ]
no subject
Oh, fuck her. That bitch isn't shit without her toys and you know it.
( it's not an ideal space. felix maneuvers better when his targets have no room to back off and recoup, but this is excessively cramped even for him. the entire fight will be up close with a working margin of less than a few feet, and that leaves far less room for error.
that's fine. makes for a good time.
the blade flips into a reverse grip, hilt angled toward his chest, defensive stance. )
Focus up, asshole. I don't want you fantasizing about hatefucking Carolina while you're fucking with me. You'll make me jealous.
no subject
Wouldn't be hard in armor. Wouldn't be hard at all. But still, Felix hasn't made the first move. Hmm.
Well, all right then. Sharkface flashes his teeth, then darts in low and quick. See what that gets him, how Felix decides to field it. And if Sharkface gets lucky, well, he'll put the blade through Felix's leg and call that a job well down. People like them don't pull their blows. ]
I don't think about you at all.
[ Unlike his laughter, his voice is oddly calm. ]
no subject
metal sparks fly as the knife scrapes off his thigh instead of punching through layers of rubber composite and muscle, just barely glancing the beveled edge of his thigh guard. so he's quick too. )
What's the matter, big guy? Gun-shy?
( he pivots on his heel into him, forearm bracing his chest and knife-tip snagging the lapel of his jacket, then heaves him back before he can swing again and gut him through the side. what else does he have under there? more knives? )
I'm thinking about you.
( half-goad, half-kittenish tease needling for anything soft he can sink his teeth into until it bleeds. he lurches forward, his weight in his toes, and pitches his knife into his non-dominant hand, slicing through empty air. a feint. his other elbow lifts mid-swing, driving for a staggering strike to the jaw on his blind side. )
no subject
So, that’s fun. As is getting an elbow to the face. In a bar fight, it’d smart. Here, against an armored opponent, it nearly wrecks him. The world whites out for a moment. It’s a goddamn miracle he doesn’t break his jaw. He can feel blood in his mouth, hot and sickly sweet.
Yeah. That smarts.
Sharkface staggers back and laughs. ]
You’re having a slow day, huh?
[ He’s got too many pins in him these days. Metal plates that knitted him back together. Like the one in his jaw. Like the one in his skull when his head nearly got caved in from the missile strike. And they ache, oh, they smart. Every waking moment, a background thrum he only ever notices when it’s gone. But there are a few positives.
The nerve damage, for one. People don’t know until they know. ]
Should’ve dropped me.
[ The world’s gone blurry but he’s still standing. And that’s the only thing that matters in a fight.
He draws a fresh blade, this one heavier and thicker, and moves. feint to the front to see if Felix will go for it, if Sharkface can get behind him and strike for his neck. ]
no subject
people are easy. predictable. tender. they slip up, they make mistakes, they suffer the consequences, repeat ad nauseam until the heat death of the universe. one little comment can be an exploding bullet in the right mouth, on the right tongue at the right time, enough to lay a man twice his size flat on their ass. you learn. you adapt. you exploit your opponents' weaknesses at every available opportunity or you die, the end. that's the sacrifice you make as a weapon of war. that's what everyone takes home with them at night.
sharkface doesn't rattle as prettily. his spec ops training. his trauma. a defect in his wiring. maybe all three.
it does occur to him, for just a fleeting blink of a moment as sharkface ducks in and felix's knife twirls out of his hand in a split second lob directly at his face, that he shouldn't be exerting himself. maintain his breathing, easy and steady to give his system a fighting chance against the gas. surviving chemmy warfare 101. rookie shit.
then his knife whizzes past sharkface's shoulder and lodges four inches deep in the wall, and felix thinks, fucking a. then a knife-edge — weightier than his last one, crafted for killing blows — nicks his suit near his throat, just under the pressure seal fixing his helmet to his head, and felix thinks, fucking a. i said watch your six.
muscle memory and his hand around sharkface's bicep stops the knife from carving a path directly into his carotid artery. fuck this. he uses his bicep as a leverage-point, wrenching sharkface's arm over his shoulder. the position anchors him forward, dragging him flush against his back, before felix throws his weight against the nearest wall, sandwiching him between his rig and steel sheet and decorative wood paneling. )
Nah.
( even when he's caught with his dick out, he doesn't shut up.
his hand squeezes down the length of his arm and circles his wrist, hard enough to cut off circulation. hard enough to break with a little pressure applied in the right direction, a gentle coax to drop the knife, and if that doesn't work he'll slam his helmet back into his bare fucking face. )
Didn't you hear, motherfucker? I like it hard and dirty.
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There's a vague part of Sharkface that knows he's in bad here, that the odds - stacked against him from the start - have only shifted higher against him. Wouldn't be hard for Felix just to slam back and dash Sharkface's skull against the wall. Pressure and leverage, and the will to get it done. They've got all three and he knows mercs like Felix, has known them for a long time. There's no paycheck here but there's always something to be gained. And it wouldn't be hard, no, sir. It'd be the easiest thing in the world.
Not like anyone dies here. Would it be like a game, waking up all over again at the beginning to try, try again?
No. Can't die stupid. Can't die for nothing when the mission still stands.
Sharkface bares his teeth and hisses out the exhale as he drops the knife. It clatters away in the dark. There's really nothing to stop Felix from caving his skull in. Just like there's nothing to stop him from drawing a second, smaller blade in his other hand and doing his goddamn best to punch it into Felix's throat.
It's already started. Play to win, soldier. You've only lost when you're dead. ]
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it's a mistake he realizes too late to spare himself from total injury, but with enough time to pull sharkface's arm tighter around him and half-roll into his chest away from the knife, bodily knocking him against the wall. sharkface's blade arcs in on a lower trajectory, gleaming red, and connects with the tissue in his raised shoulder instead of the fragile arteries in his neck.
the impact punches a sound out of him, throaty and tight. his only tell.
his head jerks back, aiming for a sharp but controlled strike to his temple. he wants him disoriented, not gorily brained across his helmet, just for the few key seconds it takes for him to tighten his grip on his wrist and buckle forward, rolling sharkface over his shoulder onto the ground. a little twist of his extended arm and he could dislocate sharkface's shoulder, or snap his arm at the elbow or break his wrist, do it, do it, fucking do it.
he releases his arm and staggers back. )
Don't. ( get up, go for a fourth knife. if he needs an extra incentive, he'll get it in the form of felix's sidearm, rack snapping as he chambers the first round and levels the muzzle with his forehead. don't. )
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He crashes to the ground. Ends with his arm pinned and then, suddenly, not. Felix has his sidearm out. Has the distance to use it this time.
It's almost neat, as these things go.
His vision pitches. Nearly gives up the ghost, swinging fuzzy and red. But he's not down.
No. Not yet.
Sharkface just bares his teeth. And he laughs. Low, rough. Edging onto wild but not there just yet. Give it time, he thinks vaguely. Just give it some fucking time. He can feel the gas more now that his adrenaline's up. Ironic, considering how little he feels anything else. The pain in his joints, in his skull? Gone, like he never knew it at all. But that ache under his skin, pulsing through him in time with his heartbeat? That's his new best friend. And he knows the score here. The city wants a show. There's probably someone watching.
No, he thinks. No, those fuckers don't get it easy.
He spits blood. And he laughs. ]
What're you gonna fucking do, huh?
[ Is this it? Is this how they play it? Sharkface knows, distantly, that he ought to care. There's a mission. A moment ago, he knew it intimately. Knew the rules, the lines he drew for himself. But it's hard to focus right now, to remember above the laughter and whatever this shit is that's being pumped into the room. Felix has armor and a gun to his head and that ought to matter, but does it? Does it, really? ]
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