|
Post by Grimm on Nov 28, 2015 9:00:45 GMT
Fenrir had let the cold water from the sink in the locker room run over his cheek for awhile trying to get the swelling to subside. Odin had hit him pretty hard, but he knew the older Fighter could of probably hit him a lot harder if he had wanted too. At least the skin hadn't broken.
After drying his face off and cleaning the candy off the floor, Fenrir was once again on his way to his original destination; getting his stuff out of storage. And he felt a bit of relief when he finally had it in his hands once again, hopefully everything was still there.
The hatch slid open to his assigned room and he was a little relieved when he found it was empty. Castor was probably still fooling around with the ship, at least that was what he thought.
Fenrir hoisted himself and the box up into his bunk and began to take the stuff out. What little he owned had been crammed into a medium sized box with his extra uniform folded nicely on top.
The uniform he managed to toss onto the dresser top while keeping it semi folded. He looked annoyed noticing that half of his candy that he had stashed away had been taken and all but one pack of cigarettes were also missing. Well at least they didn't take them all...cigarettes were traded like currency between Fighters and Fenrir didn't smoke.
The last couple of items where the things that he really cared about. One was a small pencil bag containing drawing utensils that Fenrir had either stolen or made while he was on the ship. Next was a plain folder that haphazardly held loose pieces of paper he had scrounged together. Some pieces had writing and schematics. Other blank pieces had obviously been torn out of the backs of old training and maintenance manuals. With nearly everything electronic, paper was hard to come by and Fenrir scavenged where he could.
But it was all so he could draw. His art seemed like his only real escape from the cold vastness of space, even if he didn't like to share it. As he flipped through the pages the frown etched itself even further into his lips. Hardly any of his drawings had made it out unscathed. They were ripped, crumpled, some even had his own blood splatter on them from when he had tried to stop Tyr from destroying them. Smeared and ruined but unable to get rid of them, Fenrir closed the folder eyeing the pack of cigarettes. He pulled one of the slender sticks from the packet and placed it between his lips. The cigarette felt foreign to him yet the motions familiar after being around it so often. If he had a lighter he probably would of lit it up and tried smoking. It felt like that was the kind of mood he was in.
He leaned back against the bulkhead and placed his head in his hands, grimacing slightly when he accidentally touched his tender black eye, the unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.
|
|
|
Post by Behax on Jun 7, 2016 19:10:31 GMT
As he walked back to his quarters some of what Ghost had said stuck, though maybe not the parts he had wanted to stick. He wasn't thinking about the parts where Ghost had insinuated he needed to move on, refocus and stop blaming himself. No, instead he was thinking about the part where his friend had told him to 'be careful' with Fenrir. Why? What did Ghost know that he didn't? Was his knew fighter dangerous, as well as unfriendly? He didn't like snooping into other people's business, but Castor did wonder if it was worth asking around about.
Lost in his thoughts he made it back to their quarters before he even realised it. So lost that when he entered the room, despite it's small size, he didn't notice Fenrir at first. Going straight into their small concealed bathroom. He looked a little glumly at his own reflection in the mirror, at the bandage on his face. Leaning with one hand on the sink he carefully pulled it off, hissing as he did. The wound underneath wasn't fully healed, but he'd been advised to let it get some air occasionally. He'd replace it with a new one in a while.
Castor then unfastened the jacket of his navigators uniform, inspecting the bandages on his neck and shoulder. The injuries here were deeper, and more extensive. He'd need to revisit the medical bay to get them replaced, mostly he just wanted to make sure he hadn't busted any stitches.....He shouldn't of, it wasn't like he'd done anything strenuous. Better to check though.
|
|
|
Post by Grimm on Sept 8, 2016 4:54:18 GMT
There was dread when he heard the hatch slide open. Even though Castor hadn't really acknowledged his present the air grew thick and then thinned again when his Navigator stepped into the privacy of the bathroom. The overwhelming urge to flee began to creep in as a knot in his stomach and for a moment he laid down hoping it would go away. There was anticipation of awkward interaction with his new partner and the more he worried about small talk, the tighter the knot would tie itself. The tension finally got to him and he sprung from the bunk and to the door in a single cat like motion.
No sooner did the hatch slide open, than an enraged fist blindsided Fenrir in an already blacken eye. "Motherfu....." Fenrir let out a growl. Out of shock and pain, he shuffled backwards identifying his attackers as a dear friend of the late Tyr. Through the hatch stepped Hades, a Navigator followed by his Fighter, Cerberus; an intimidating pair by their size alone. They were simply put, bad news.
A brief scuffle broke out in the crowded dorm between the three of them, Cerberus managing to apprehend Fenrir in a choke hold which allowed Hades a few free strikes to Fenrir's vulnerable abdomen.
"You pathetic piece of shit. You Worm. You fucking dog." Hades calmly insulted Fenrir between punches to his soft open belly, spitting the demeaning words at his face. It was futile to fight against the massive arm of the other fighter that was slowly choking the life out of him. He managed to get his toes ahold of the ground before the sound of a switch blade opening caused him to forget all about his breathing problems. There was real fear that sparked in his eyes. Fenrir had though that getting rid of Tyr would have put a stop to all this. How naive he felt now on the receiving end of payback.
"Let's pick up where Tyr left off, Shall We?" Hades cooly gloated using the knife to cut open Fenrir's shirt, his hands and eyes searching for prime real estate on the Russians lean stomach. The Navigator's fingers traced the outlines of scars hidden amongst the tattoos on Fenrir's body. "Or Maybe," Hades reached up and grabbed a fist full of Fenrir's hair, "..I should carve MURDER into your face!"
|
|
|
Post by Behax on Sept 8, 2016 18:56:37 GMT
Even the sound of the the hatch door of the room opening again didn't really catch the navigators attention, it wasn't until a sounds of a scuffle hit his ears that Castor was snapped out of his thoughts. At first he thought maybe Fenrir might have some sort of anger problem, and was maybe tearing the room up....Until he realised what he could hear were three people. The sight when he opened the door to the bathroom shocked him, but Castor acted quickly. Either the pair fighting Fenrir didn't expect him to be there, or just hadn't cared when they'd barged in.
He took their ignorance to his advantage, disarming the other navigator before wrestling him to the floor, holding one of his arms behind his back, and holding him down with one of his knees. Navigators usually didn't have to worry about other navigators too much, they rarely got into physical fights with each other, unlike fighters. But back before being assigned to their current ship, where the rooms had been bigger, Pollux had taught Castor a few techniques to defend himself with, should he run afoul of any of the other fighters.....He hadn't had to use any of them till now.
Given Fernri's insistence that he was the one in charge, as well as his own personal problems Castor hasn't shown much of an assertive side. But it wasn't like he was just going to stand there in the doorway while a navigator and presumably their fighter threatened his new fighter, even if they had only known each other a day.
"Want to tell me what you both think you're doing?" He asked, tone serious. He wasn't doing anything to hurt the other navigator, just enough to hold him down. And he'd really rather not have to start hurting people, but he'd start twisting the other man's arm if he had to...Though he didn't know how strong the other actually was.
|
|
|
Post by Grimm on Sept 27, 2016 17:33:04 GMT
Hades hadn't expected Castor to be there and it took him by surprise. Before the knife could clatter on the floor, Hades found himself face down against the metal floor, a knee deep in his back and his arm twisted behind him. Cerberus would have helped his navigator, but to do so would mean he would have to let go of Fenrir, instead he loosed his grip a little allowing Fenrir to get his feet under him. Fenrir was more than impressed with Castor's combat skills, he hadn't really imagined him as the fighting type. But Hades was a brute when it came to Navigators and Fenrir feared for Castor's safety. Fenrir's amber eyes flashed to the unclaimed knife on the floor.
"Want to tell me what you both think you're doing?"
"You're Protecting this piece of shit?" Hades was no longer calm or collected as he angry shouted at Castor over his shoulder, floundering about. "He murdered his last Navigator, Tyr. He'll murder you too piglet." He wasted no time slinging insults.
Fenrir remained silent as Hades accused him of murder, instead he defiantly glared at Hades through an eye that was starting to swell shut. While Fenrir was glad to have the situation somewhat diffused, he was hoping to have kept the murder charges under wraps a little longer. It had only been a day since he was assigned with Castor and Cook just might throw him out of the air lock if things went wrong again. And things were certainly going wrong.
|
|
|
Post by Behax on Sept 27, 2016 20:23:29 GMT
Fenrir wasn't exactly wrong, Castor wasn't exactly the fighting type.....Or at least he didn't like actually fighting. Pollux had only taught him how to defend himself out of concern for his safety. He was a little surprised with himself, though he tried not to show it. Like seeing the situation at hand had flipped a switch in his brain making him immediately go on the attack. He'd lost one fighter, he wasn't in a particular hurry to lose another.
"Tyr...?" He paused, pulling back a little but not letting up on the pressure he was putting on Hades. The name was familiar, Tyr had, had a reputation...Not a good one, but then there were a few other...Bad apples in the bunch. He'd heard that he'd died, but Castor couldn't really say he'd felt any sadness at the news. "If that's true I wont say Tyr deserved it, but he was a piece of shit, maybe you should make better friends." Castor couldn't be sure he was picking the 'right' side...But he didn't know all the facts either. Tyr was hardly a 'good guy'. He just felt he should stand by his Fighter.....Especially since this was going down right in their room. What was he supposed to do? Turn a blind eye? Not likely, even if they were strangers who'd had a bit of a rocky start.
After a moment of silence and thought, he finally let up on the pressure, getting off of Hades, and giving him room to stand, but not before claiming the knife from the floor. He took a step back towards the bathroom door. In one hand the knife, the other hovering by the control panel. "It's been fun getting acquainted, but I think it's time for you to go," he said with a cold vaguely threatening smile. "I'll keep this though," he added, waving the knife before sliding it into the back of his belt. His other hand still hovering over the control panel, clearly ready to press the button intended for emergencies.
|
|
|
Post by Grimm on Sept 29, 2016 4:25:00 GMT
Hades hauled himself off of the floor, glaring daggers at Castor. For several tense moments it could of gone either way as the hulking Navigator slowly and angry weighted his options before realizing it was probably better to retreat. But he could still be angry about it. "You better keep it close." Hades spat in regards to the knife as he straightened his uniform, then began to rub his shoulder.
"Careful he doesn't murder you in your sleep." There was venom in Hades tone, glaring at the two of them. The Navigator signaled for Cerberus to cut Fenrir loose. The large Fighter shoved Fenrir to the side and Cerberus followed Hades out of the room.
"...thank you." Fenrir croaked a quiet gratitude, rubbing his throat. He was grateful that his eye was swollen shut on the side facing his Navigator. It kept him from having to look at what ever emotion was on Castor's face. But curiosity got the better of him and he turned his head ever so slightly so he could see Castor over the bridge of his nose. The hint of red cause him to turn his attention further to his Navigator.
"Looks like you ripped a stitch." Fenrir tapped himself on the shoulder to indicate to Castor that the Navigator's shoulder was bleeding through the bandages. It was immediate guilt that Fenrir felt. The Fighter took his ripped shirt off and discarded it roughly into the trash along with any hope he might of had for the future.
|
|
|
Post by Behax on Sept 29, 2016 7:28:51 GMT
It was an intense moment for Castor as well, staring Hades down, trying not to blink or look away. As he did he was aware of the throbbing in his shoulder, but paid it no mind as he watched the other Navigator and Fighter leave. He didn't like to make enemies...But was sure he just had. He let out a heavy sigh once the door to their room slid close again, leaning against the wall with a little relief.
"It's fine.....You don't need to thank me," Castor said with genuine sincerity. He wasn't angry, or even disapointed, just relieved for the moment that Hades and his fighter had left without any further altercation. "Oh...Yeah..." Castor turned his own attention to his shoulder at Fenrir's prompting. It was bleeding through to his shirt, just made more noticeable by the fact that Navigator uniforms were white. "I probably shouldn't have been so hasty about putting him in that hold but.....I couldn't not do anything," he explained as he unbuttoned his shirt to see how badly he'd hurt himself. "I.....Don't like guys like that."
He definately had to go to the infirmary to get his shoulder restitched, and looking at Fenrir he probably should too. "I should go see the medic....I'd advise that you probably should do the same," he suggested buttoning his shirt back up. If Fenrir expected Castor to asked about Tyr he didn't, because he doubted it was as cut and dry as Fenrir just up and killing a guy for no reason, and sure it concerned him...But he also didn't see it as any of his business.
|
|
|
Post by Grimm on Sept 29, 2016 13:56:47 GMT
Fenrir watched Castor almost nonchalantly but his mind was deeply troubled. At the mention that he should go see a medic, the Fighter let out a sigh of agreement although he had no intention of going to a medic and turned his marred back to his Navigator. Fenrir's lean back was laced with scars of various depth and ages, and was nearly void of the tattoos that graced parts of his chest and abdomen. And between his shoulder blades 'TYR' had been deeply carved. The fledgling pink scars shown brightly among the old abuse on Fenrir's back.
The Fighter grabbed the extra shirt from the uniform he had tossed onto the dresser earlier and put it on. Even though he didn't want to go to the medic it would be stupid for him to let Castor go anywhere alone. He knew Hades wouldn't let it go so easily and was probably dumb and angry enough to try something the first chance he got.
"Hades is..." he mumbled something in Russian before settling on the correct translation,"...vindictive. It's probably best if you don't find yourself alone with him.". Fenrir ran his fingers through his short strands of wild black hair trying to smooth it out. He touched his black eye trying to figure out how he'd explain this one, surely him going to medical would raise a flag with Cook but it couldn't be helped.
|
|
|
Post by Behax on Sept 29, 2016 18:34:54 GMT
The scarring on Fenrir's back caught Castor's attention...It wasn't something that was totally unusual to see, Pollux had, had his fair share of scars. But in his gut he knew Ferir hadn't gotten all of them...Or even most of them fighting other fighters. He scowled at the one that said "TYR," making it clear just where the scars had come from. Still he didn't ask about it, didn't mention it. Castor doubted anything good would come from prying, or that he'd even get a real answer.
By the time Fenrir turned around, Castor has stopped staring at his heavily scarred skin. It was rude after all. "it's probably best if you don't find yourself alone with him."
"Yes I imagine that's going to be the case..." He really didn't like making enemies, but what could he do? It wasn't like he could have just stood there. "The same advice probably applies to you as well," he added after a little thought. Still Castor couldn't believe the pair had just brazenly attacked Fenrir in his own quarters, rather than waiting to corner him somewhere else. "I think....We should probably keep the door locked from now on, as those two shouldn't know our passcode." Bad enough they'd just walked in in the first place, worse would be coming back and finding them already there waiting.
Fortunately for Fenrir the medics were so used to fighters having injuries (usually from fighting each other,) that they tended not to ask questions. Castor however was getting a stare down when they got there. After specifically being told not to over exert himself or he'd bust a stitch. He sheepishly gave some bullshit excuse about hitting his shoulder while trying to re-wire the cock pit. The medic didn't look quite like they believed him, but didn't press further.
|
|
|
Post by Grimm on Oct 5, 2016 18:09:47 GMT
Fenrir was either unaware or didn't care about the stares that duo received on the way to the Medical Bay. When they got there Fenrir was handed off to a younger looking medic to be looked at. Fenrir cursed in Russian every time the medic even came close to touching his swollen eye socket, causing the young medic to flinch with nervous laughter. It wasn't that he was in that much pain, he was purposely distracting the Medic; swiping a scalpel, a roll of bandages, and painkillers from the medical tray every time the Medic looked away.
After a thorough check to see if he had received a concussion and they drained the swelling around his eye to alleviate the pressure, he was released. But not before ducking into the supply closet with a different medic for a quick romp in exchange for a pack of smokes.
"Hell of a day." The Fighter spoke to himself as he walked back to the entrance of the Medical Bay, smoothing out his uniform while his hair was still a messy pile.
|
|