anomaly 012 . a demotion

[dinosize]

CONTENT WARNINGS for violence, abuse, suicidal thoughts, catatonic freakout, blood, demotion, idefk just CONTENT WARNINGS

[ spam ]

[ When he runs, he runs to the CES. Fleeing up the stairway, taking them three at a time, panicking, panicking. He hurt someone, he hurt someone badly, and the whole of the ship presses in on him, traps him, corners him like a hunted rabbit. He slams out onto the deck, leaving smears of blood on the door, from his hands, his bloodied hands.

When he gets to the CES, the door won't open.

The compass, his warden item, doesn't do anything. The needle spins idly. There's no response. There's nothing. It won't let him in.

Stephen slams a hand against the door, leaving another imprint, drying and sticky. Vex's blood. His blood. His hands hurt. Something might be broken. He's broken.

Stephen slides down to the ground, tense and panting, almost hyperventilating. He needs to get out. He needs to get out. ]



[ ooc note: Stephen has been demoted because of reasons. I'm okay with multiple people tagging in (timey wimey, etc). He will be potentially violent if anyone touches him, but he's not really a combat character, and anyone well-trained should be able to subdue him. Alternatively, he can probably be talked down. ]

[ cabin spam, later ]

[ He cleans himself up at the remaining sink, and curls up on the bed, pulling an unnecessary, heavy blanket over himself. All of what's happened seems too enormous to really grasp, so he doesn't try. He stares blankly. Eventually, he goes and eats something from the fridge, which appears to have lingered where the shower went away. And then he curls back up. ]

Comments

[americasdirtiest]

[Mickey rarely bothers with the CES, especially these days, but he does frequent the CTS for workouts. Or just when he feels like fighting the shit out of something, which is also fairly frequent. Today, his homesickness has gotten the better of him, and he's on his way with his knuckles wrapped and the cut on his arm bandaged to go wail on some stuff and get wailed on until he feels better.

But instead, he spots Stephen up the hall, and whatever hope he'd had of feeling better falls through the bottom of his stomach.

He shouldn't care. He shouldn't care. He should turn and go into the CTS and leave him for someone like Nick to find him, someone Stephen would give the time of day to. He said he wasn't going to chase after him anymore, and he'd meant it.

But before he can stop himself, he's moving down the hall and reaching out to grab Stephen's shoulder and haul him up.]

Hey. Hey! What the fuck happened to you?

[dinosize]

[ He doesn't focus on the footsteps coming closer, just trying to remember how to breathe. And then there are hands on him, pulling him, and Stephen moves like a coiled spring to shove Mickey back as hard as he can. ]

Don't touch me.

[ With a hand held up in warning. Don't. Don't. ]

[americasdirtiest]

Hey!

[It's indignant, wounded fury: it's the sting of injury to insult. The shove doesn't actually hurt, doesn't do more than make him stumble backwards, but the impact it has on him is clear all over his face. His pupils shrink to angry points, his jaw so tight it aches.

For a long, long second, it looks like he'd like nothing more than to finish the job Stephen's already started on himself. And maybe that dark rage inside him really would, because he can't handle being humiliated by the son of a bitch anymore. He knows it takes everything he has in him, in that moment, not to just sock him in the face. He's not even sure what it is that stops him.]

Look, you fucking shitstain, just tell me what happened.

[Or maybe he wants to push it a little more, first, because he takes a step closer to Stephen, hand extended.]

Did you kill somebody? What?

[dinosize]

Don't -

Don't.

[ Here, Stephen takes the compass, and, in utter frustration, smashes it against the door to the CES. The glass breaks on the third hit, and he drives his hand into the wall again, heedless of the shards digging into his palm. He isn't even sure what he's doing now. Why this would solve anything. He just wants out. ]

[americasdirtiest]

What the fuck, Hart!

[Similarly, Mickey doesn't know what makes him do anything but turn away and maybe, maybe, if he's feeling really generous, call Nick. He's smart enough to know that he's not helping at all here, and that's he's not going to.

But God, he is just so fucking sick of this. Of watching someone tear themselves apart in front of him and not being able to do anything about it, on being rebuffed on every try. Stephen. Ian. Even Chris and Needy didn't want his help.

He's doesn't know when he became unable to stop caring, but now that he has, he's sick of being pointless to the people that have wormed their way under his skin. He lunges forward again and grabs Stephen's wrist, wrenching it painfully hard away from the door.]

Fuck this. Fuck you.

[dinosize]

[ This time, he turns and hits Mickey. WIth his left hand, the one that's screaming in pain, and this doesn't make it any better. Stephen is panicking, breathing too fast and it still feels like he can't get enough oxygen, and he hits Mickey again and again until Mickey lets him go, and then he scrambles away, crouching down to put his head between his knees in some vague reflex of responsible behavior. He feels like his chest is tightening like a vise, like he's going to die, and his breaths are coming out in little whimpers. ]

[americasdirtiest]

[The hit, catching him just under the jaw, hurts, but it shocks far more in the instant before contact. His reaction is instant, almost more muscle memory than actual intent: Stephen hits him and he hits right back. He yanks him close by the wrist to drive a fist into his stomach, and when Stephen hits again he slings his arm around his waist to get him in the kidney.

It's his left hand as well, non-dominant for him, so it hurts less than it otherwise would. On the other hand, not all of Mickey's swagger is just braggery: this kind of fighting is definitely his forte. He's quick and strong and mean when he hits, meaner still now because something in him has been wanting to do just this for days now. To show Stephen, to show everyone that Mickey can't just get kicked around.

That if they don't want him around, he's going to fucking give them a reason.

For a moment, it really seems like he's going to keep going until Stephen is down and out; if something in him didn't still perversely, infuriatingly care, he might. Instead, after a minute of hard grappling, he shoves Stephen away and steps back, panting, wiping his hand against a bloody cut on his mouth. He stares at Stephen as he scrambles back, that flare of rage slowly going numb.]

Good.

[He spits blood at his feet.]

Whatever it is, I hope you fucking choke on it.

[He knows what's needed here, as much as it makes him sick to think of it. Nick fucking Cutter. The man who just so conveniently lives across the hall. Maybe, if nothing else, he'll get the chance to punch him, too, when he opens the door. Turning on his heel, he storms away, chest tight, eyes burning.]

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia has been checking on the CES every day. She wants to see all kinds of scenarios she could potentially get for the party. So far, both a beach and a forest that reminds her a lot of the one right behind her house seem to be the two best options.

She's making notes on her phone about potential decorations when she hears a loud noise against the door.

And stills. She opens it slowly, her heart beating faster and she expects to find Jerry out there. But instead, she finds Stephen. And blood.

Her stomach turns and she looks around quickly, expecting to see someone after him, trying to hurt him. When she sees no sign of danger, she reaches for his arm, eyes wide as she looks at him.]

Stephen. Hey. You're okay. You're safe, just come inside with me. [Inside the CES. Where no inmates can get in without a key. Where they should be safe.]

[dinosize]

Don't touch me.

[ He flinches back and pulls out of her grip. It's like someone like Abby found him. Only even younger. And - a student. Someone who should respect him. Someone who valued him.

He puts his head between his knees, hands clenched into fists. He's breathing so fast but he still feels like the life is being choked and drained out of him. But he's not going to go in there while she's there. He's a rubber band half-snapped. ]

[lydiascreams]

[She does pull her hand away, holding her breath at his very unexpected reaction to her, but she doesn't pull away completely.]

I won't touch you. But I need you to move a few inches inside the CES, Stephen. Please. [Once they are safe, she will give him all the time he needs.]

[dinosize]

[ Shakes his head. Can't explain the sudden reverse of what he wants. But it's not an escape, nowhere is an escape, and Stephen starts to choke out sort of sobs. No tears, but ugly sobs anyway. ]

[lydiascreams]

[It's almost like he's in some kind of shock. Lydia kneels on the floor, sitting back on her heels so she can give him some room. She glances over her shoulder just to make sure they are still safe then focuses on him again.]

Stephen. Look at me. Take a deep breath and look at me. [Her voice is calm but firm.]

[dinosize]

[ He does. Biting down on his knuckles, tasting what might be his own blood or someone else's. But he does look up at her.

Deep breath might be a bit more difficult to come by. ]

[isahumanbeing]

[He had been giving Stephen some space after their last talk. He was half convinced he did more harm than good, regardless of his intent. He startles when he sees him now, the blood worries him... along with his body language.]

Stephen... [Cautious] What happened?

[dinosize]

[ Stephen only gives a tight shake of his head. The shards of his warden device, the compass, are around him - he's beaten it to shattering against the door. He's curled up, hand over his nose and mouth like he's trying to stop himself from breathing so hard, breathing in panicked sobs, but he can't. ]

[isahumanbeing]

[Nick inches closer very cautiously. He remembers doing something very similar after Stephen died. It's a bit of a blur to remember but he does remember the urge to lash out.

He crouches down when he gets close, one of his hands moving but stopping short of touching him.]

Stephen. Are you hurt?

[dinosize]

[ He flinches away anyway. The thought of anything hitting his skin is repulsive. Repulsive and frightening. He doesn't want to answer questions.

But some of the blood is his. Some, from the shards of glass, gone into his palm. And his other hand, hurt whenever he flexes.

So there's just a twitch of a nod. ]

[isahumanbeing]

[That is definitely not a good sign. He doesn't try to touch him. He does pull a cloth handkerchief from his back pocket. He holds it out between two fingers. ]

Will you let me take a look at it?

[dinosize]

Leave it alone.

[ He doesn't want Nick to find him like this. He doesn't want the pain to go away yet. ]

[visetvires]

[Stephen doesn't show up at the normal time.]

[With someone else, this wouldn't bother Clementine. Wouldn't concern her in the least. It would just be another example of someone being undependable - human, distractable, imperfect. And that's fine. But it's not Stephen.]

[So, after an abbreviated waiting period outside the CES, she goes to his cabin to find him. Knocks on the door. Waits. If he doesn't answer, she'll knock again, harder and harder, until eventually she's pounding to be let in.]

[dinosize]

[ He opens it before the pounding happens. Both hands are bandaged, one for cuts and one for punching people in the face enough to sprain shit. He looks - normal. Wan, maybe. Tired. ]

- oh.

Didn't come, did I.

[visetvires]

You didn't fucking come.

[She doesn't sound angry. Just curious, mostly. Her eyes zero in on his hands.]

Well?

[dinosize]

[ A little bit of a shrug. Shift of his shoulders. ]

I'm not your warden anymore. Congratulations. You're a free - free-er woman.

[visetvires]

[It settles in her belly before it settles in her mind. Heavy like a stone. Relief rising like bile in her throat, too. Oddly, she wants to run away.]

[Doesn't make sense. She just stares at him, head cocked to one side.]

[dinosize]

[ He steps aside. ]

Check, if you like. No shower. No compass. No guns.

[ His cabin's an inmate cabin now. ]