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Roarr nanothing >E part 2!
A bit slow, I think, mostly introducing people. Better tighten this on rewrite. I'll worry later. DX;
5144 / 50000 words. 10% done!
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Duane kind of hated trees. And bushes. And brambles. So really, the job he was currently busy with was perfect.
"Die, minions of Darkness!"
The chainsaw felled another branch, and then on the backswing cut clean through a cluster of brand-new, still green baby trees. Duane cackled a little. It never got old.
Okay, yes, it did.
Chainsaws were fun, and he agreed with Tyr that the forest had crawled up way too close to the house as it was -- he couldn't even find half the fence posts, taken over and brought down by sneaky, choking greenery. It made him twitchy; all those leaves and waist-high grass provided so much cover that anyone could have strolled up to the house with the inhabitants none the wiser, and that was just not on.
...Chainsaws were really fun. But three hours of single-minded, solitary fun, now that was just like work in the end, wasn't it.
Or masturbation. And what a coincidence, three hour long sessions with his Not So Little Duane left his hands chafed and his shoulders cramping in about the same way. Perhaps with fewer blisters.
He turned off the chainsaw, put it down and stretched his arms over his head. He was almost tempted to trade with Tyr. The last he'd seen the guy he was busy tearing off the carpet and scrubbing mold off the floor. It needed doing too, just... yeah. Chainsaw was still more fun, for the moment.
He heard pebbles roll and was swinging the chainsaw around in a second, one-handed.
Serrano gave a slow blink and arched her only visible eyebrow.
"Scarier if it's turned on, I think."
She stood there, a tall, sinewy woman with bronzed skin and no waist to speak of, hands in her pockets like she couldn't care less about the threat. Duane let the weight of the chainsaw pull his arm down. The jolt of adrenalin still made his heart race. He bet she'd startled him deliberately.
Then again, maybe not. "What the fuck happened to your face?"
It was hard to miss. Her scraggly hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the couple of corkscrew bangs that fell on her forehead would never have hidden the pristine white gauze patch that covered the right side of her face, from mid-forehead to cheek. Underneath he could see half-healed red scars, nicking her jaw. He supposed he'd been on her blind side when she turned the corner.
She just shrugged, the visible side of her face just as blank as the bandage. "Andersen here?"
Duane sighed again. Argh. "Yeah, he's inside. Come on."
He propped the chainsaw on his shoulder and led the way in.
The inside of the house was still an offense to his eyes, but at least he'd gotten used to the smell. Duane was almost all the way through the room when he realized she'd stopped near the door to scan the room, nose wrinkled.
"Yeah, we looked for the hobo corpse too, but it must be buried real deep," he drawled. "Maybe in a secret hole in the wall."
"I don't think anything bigger than a bird ever died in here," she replied absently. Duane groaned.
"Jesus, you and Tyr make a pair alright. No sense of humor between the two of you."
She gave him a bland, bland look. "I traded mine in for a good hunting knife."
Duane grabbed at his heart in not-so-exaggerated shock.
"Hey," said a male voice from just behind his shoulder. Duane's hands gave a little twitch, and he told himself it was annoyance. Goddamnit, but he hated being startled. The two of them were just too quiet.
"Look, Tyr-dear, your girlfriend's here." It even rhymed. He was awesome. Neither of them glanced his way, or even deigned to look irritated or embarrassed.
"Andersen. Hey."
Duane sighed and took a step back, so he would stop having to turn his back on one of them to see them both. He leaned a shoulder on the wall, crossed his arms. They were still watching each other.
A quick smile flitted on Serrano's face, gone as fast as it had appeared, and she broke eye contact to look around the room again.
"Hm."
Tyr nodded like she'd actually said something.
"Just for the record, I think I hate you both."
Tyr looked at him puzzled; Serrano, faintly sarcastic, but she didn't even bother saying as much as a 'that's nice.'
"Yep, definitely hate you both." He hefted up the chainsaw and propped it up on his shoulder. "I'm going back outside. Have fun thinking at each other."
+
"Lieutenant Keller!"
Duane jerked around, threw the armful of branches he was carrying to the pile in the garden, and then started swearing up a storm. Most of the branches sailed over the redheaded newcomer, who had smartly thrown himself down in a deep crouch, and was now laughing himself breathless.
"You asshole."
"Hello to you too," the intruder replied, climbing back on his feet and dusting himself off primly. "Long time no see."
"You fucking asshole. What day is it, Give Duane a Heart Attack day?"
Duane got a wide-eyed, utterly innocent look of confusion in answer, complete with tilted head and puzzled double-blink. "What, you didn't hear? New national holiday, they announced it this morning."
"Oh, fuck you, Wright." Duane huffed to himself for another couple of seconds, then deflated and smiled back. Most of their peers had been grim -- or just defective, like the two weirdoes currently in the house. Not Cameron Gabriel Wright, no sir. He said good morning, he asked 'how do you do?', and unless it was a real bad day he even came across as if he wanted to hear the answer. Duane didn't give a shit about the politeness, but at least most times Gabe laughed at his jokes. "Good to see you. ...I guess. Maybe."
The bastard looked good -- he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, but on him and with that dimpling little smile the effect was charmingly roguish rather than the unkempt dock worker look Duane himself tended to end up with. He hadn't regained much of his lost weight, but considering that the last time Duane had seen him he'd had two spectacular black eyes and a dislocated arm, he still looked pretty healthy. On the thin side, but then again when a guy was that tall either he came across as thin or as a walking tank.
"I didn't expect to meet you here," Gabriel said as he started picking up the branches.
"Yeah, I didn't expect me either." Duane pointed his thumb at the house. "Serrano's here too. Wonder who else was invited. I swear we're gonna end up with the full team, the way it's going."
Gabriel had a pensive look. "I don't think so. There's at least a dozen who moved as far away as they could -- or even just went AWOL the second the treaty was signed -- and no one would tell me how many had eaten their gun already but I suspect it was more than two or three. Morrison asked to be locked up in an asylum..."
Duane grimaced. "I'd rather eat my gun."
"Yes, me too," Gabriel said, in the tone of someone discussing the weather. "Anyway, I don't think Lieutenant Andersen -- ah..."
"Just call him Tyr, it's shorter and he doesn't care," Duane advised, chuckling. He'd called the guy by his first name from day one -- at first to get a rise out of him, and it had never worked. It was like he didn't even know his name was kind of weird, and all attempts to inform him of that went right over his head.
"I'll ask him," Gabriel said in a politely determined tone. "As I was going to say, I don't think he would have invited people he has never met before, and I don't think any of us ever met all of the others. Did you?"
"Nope." Duane dumped his armful of branches on the pile and crooked his finger at Gabriel so he'd follow him in the house. "Just you guys and maybe three -- no, four others. No, wait, three, I hear Williams got himself killed two days before the end. Probably a good thing, too, he looked halfway through a reject last I saw him."
Gabriel shuddered.
"Anyway. This is the awesome kitchen," Duane said, waving at the empty room, its clogged sink, and its glaringly missing appliances. "And this is our super awesome living room, with the bestest Hobo Surprise somewhere under the wooden floor, ten points to you if you find it. That is the staircase. You won't kill yourself falling from it, dixit Tyr. I guess he checked."
Serrano appeared on the top stair. Gabriel paused right there in the middle and looked up at her. She gave Gabriel a long thoughtful look right back. Duane wondered if everyone in this house but him was a mind-reader.
"Well. You're here."
"Well... Yes."
Tyr joined Serrano on the landing, an eyebrow arched quizzically.
"Oh, good, someone else who's missed an episode," Duane quipped, and draped an arm lazily along the banister as he looked from one to the other.
Gabriel let out a long sigh, ruffled his curls, and smiled at Duane, for once unconvincingly. "Oh, nothing important," he said, starting up the stair again.
"Pull the other one, it's got bells on."
Gabriel ignored him to look at Tyr, facing him, smile melting away. "I hope I am not imposing."
"I did invite you."
"I don't know how long I'll stay."
"That's fine."
Gabriel stared at him a couple of seconds longer, and then sighed a second time and started smiling again. Then he turned to Duane, who was very much not sulking at all, for the record. "In the interest of keeping your frustrations to a minimum... As of yesterday ten P.M., I'm officially destitute and disowned." He ruffled his hair again and gave a rueful smile. "So, here I am."
-- Ouch. Okay. Yeah.
Tyr reached for the back of his waistband, and for a second Duane thought he was going for a gun; but instead he pulled out a hammer and handed it to Gabe, matter-of-fact. "Better stop slacking if you don't want it to rain on your bed."
Gabriel started laughing. "Sir, yes, sir."
Tyr paused in mid-turn and gave him a cautious look over his shoulder. "...We're the same rank."
"This is your command, sir," Gabriel said with a little grin.
Tyr snorted. "Then I command you to pretend it isn't. Serrano will hold the planks for you. Go fix that hole."
"Hm, dilemma. This sure sounded like an order. Is the previous order countermanded?"
"Augh!" Duane protested. "I'm gonna countermand your ass if you keep going like that. Get moving."
Laughing, Gabriel disappeared down the corridor. Serrano followed, her shoulder brushing the wall. Duane wondered if that was because of the eye or what. Surely she didn't need both to follow a straight line.
"Duane."
He blinked. Tyr was still there. "Yeah?"
"Come on. Wallpaper to tear down."
"Oh, yay." But of course he followed.
----------
Duane kind of hated trees. And bushes. And brambles. So really, the job he was currently busy with was perfect.
"Die, minions of Darkness!"
The chainsaw felled another branch, and then on the backswing cut clean through a cluster of brand-new, still green baby trees. Duane cackled a little. It never got old.
Okay, yes, it did.
Chainsaws were fun, and he agreed with Tyr that the forest had crawled up way too close to the house as it was -- he couldn't even find half the fence posts, taken over and brought down by sneaky, choking greenery. It made him twitchy; all those leaves and waist-high grass provided so much cover that anyone could have strolled up to the house with the inhabitants none the wiser, and that was just not on.
...Chainsaws were really fun. But three hours of single-minded, solitary fun, now that was just like work in the end, wasn't it.
Or masturbation. And what a coincidence, three hour long sessions with his Not So Little Duane left his hands chafed and his shoulders cramping in about the same way. Perhaps with fewer blisters.
He turned off the chainsaw, put it down and stretched his arms over his head. He was almost tempted to trade with Tyr. The last he'd seen the guy he was busy tearing off the carpet and scrubbing mold off the floor. It needed doing too, just... yeah. Chainsaw was still more fun, for the moment.
He heard pebbles roll and was swinging the chainsaw around in a second, one-handed.
Serrano gave a slow blink and arched her only visible eyebrow.
"Scarier if it's turned on, I think."
She stood there, a tall, sinewy woman with bronzed skin and no waist to speak of, hands in her pockets like she couldn't care less about the threat. Duane let the weight of the chainsaw pull his arm down. The jolt of adrenalin still made his heart race. He bet she'd startled him deliberately.
Then again, maybe not. "What the fuck happened to your face?"
It was hard to miss. Her scraggly hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the couple of corkscrew bangs that fell on her forehead would never have hidden the pristine white gauze patch that covered the right side of her face, from mid-forehead to cheek. Underneath he could see half-healed red scars, nicking her jaw. He supposed he'd been on her blind side when she turned the corner.
She just shrugged, the visible side of her face just as blank as the bandage. "Andersen here?"
Duane sighed again. Argh. "Yeah, he's inside. Come on."
He propped the chainsaw on his shoulder and led the way in.
The inside of the house was still an offense to his eyes, but at least he'd gotten used to the smell. Duane was almost all the way through the room when he realized she'd stopped near the door to scan the room, nose wrinkled.
"Yeah, we looked for the hobo corpse too, but it must be buried real deep," he drawled. "Maybe in a secret hole in the wall."
"I don't think anything bigger than a bird ever died in here," she replied absently. Duane groaned.
"Jesus, you and Tyr make a pair alright. No sense of humor between the two of you."
She gave him a bland, bland look. "I traded mine in for a good hunting knife."
Duane grabbed at his heart in not-so-exaggerated shock.
"Hey," said a male voice from just behind his shoulder. Duane's hands gave a little twitch, and he told himself it was annoyance. Goddamnit, but he hated being startled. The two of them were just too quiet.
"Look, Tyr-dear, your girlfriend's here." It even rhymed. He was awesome. Neither of them glanced his way, or even deigned to look irritated or embarrassed.
"Andersen. Hey."
Duane sighed and took a step back, so he would stop having to turn his back on one of them to see them both. He leaned a shoulder on the wall, crossed his arms. They were still watching each other.
A quick smile flitted on Serrano's face, gone as fast as it had appeared, and she broke eye contact to look around the room again.
"Hm."
Tyr nodded like she'd actually said something.
"Just for the record, I think I hate you both."
Tyr looked at him puzzled; Serrano, faintly sarcastic, but she didn't even bother saying as much as a 'that's nice.'
"Yep, definitely hate you both." He hefted up the chainsaw and propped it up on his shoulder. "I'm going back outside. Have fun thinking at each other."
+
"Lieutenant Keller!"
Duane jerked around, threw the armful of branches he was carrying to the pile in the garden, and then started swearing up a storm. Most of the branches sailed over the redheaded newcomer, who had smartly thrown himself down in a deep crouch, and was now laughing himself breathless.
"You asshole."
"Hello to you too," the intruder replied, climbing back on his feet and dusting himself off primly. "Long time no see."
"You fucking asshole. What day is it, Give Duane a Heart Attack day?"
Duane got a wide-eyed, utterly innocent look of confusion in answer, complete with tilted head and puzzled double-blink. "What, you didn't hear? New national holiday, they announced it this morning."
"Oh, fuck you, Wright." Duane huffed to himself for another couple of seconds, then deflated and smiled back. Most of their peers had been grim -- or just defective, like the two weirdoes currently in the house. Not Cameron Gabriel Wright, no sir. He said good morning, he asked 'how do you do?', and unless it was a real bad day he even came across as if he wanted to hear the answer. Duane didn't give a shit about the politeness, but at least most times Gabe laughed at his jokes. "Good to see you. ...I guess. Maybe."
The bastard looked good -- he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, but on him and with that dimpling little smile the effect was charmingly roguish rather than the unkempt dock worker look Duane himself tended to end up with. He hadn't regained much of his lost weight, but considering that the last time Duane had seen him he'd had two spectacular black eyes and a dislocated arm, he still looked pretty healthy. On the thin side, but then again when a guy was that tall either he came across as thin or as a walking tank.
"I didn't expect to meet you here," Gabriel said as he started picking up the branches.
"Yeah, I didn't expect me either." Duane pointed his thumb at the house. "Serrano's here too. Wonder who else was invited. I swear we're gonna end up with the full team, the way it's going."
Gabriel had a pensive look. "I don't think so. There's at least a dozen who moved as far away as they could -- or even just went AWOL the second the treaty was signed -- and no one would tell me how many had eaten their gun already but I suspect it was more than two or three. Morrison asked to be locked up in an asylum..."
Duane grimaced. "I'd rather eat my gun."
"Yes, me too," Gabriel said, in the tone of someone discussing the weather. "Anyway, I don't think Lieutenant Andersen -- ah..."
"Just call him Tyr, it's shorter and he doesn't care," Duane advised, chuckling. He'd called the guy by his first name from day one -- at first to get a rise out of him, and it had never worked. It was like he didn't even know his name was kind of weird, and all attempts to inform him of that went right over his head.
"I'll ask him," Gabriel said in a politely determined tone. "As I was going to say, I don't think he would have invited people he has never met before, and I don't think any of us ever met all of the others. Did you?"
"Nope." Duane dumped his armful of branches on the pile and crooked his finger at Gabriel so he'd follow him in the house. "Just you guys and maybe three -- no, four others. No, wait, three, I hear Williams got himself killed two days before the end. Probably a good thing, too, he looked halfway through a reject last I saw him."
Gabriel shuddered.
"Anyway. This is the awesome kitchen," Duane said, waving at the empty room, its clogged sink, and its glaringly missing appliances. "And this is our super awesome living room, with the bestest Hobo Surprise somewhere under the wooden floor, ten points to you if you find it. That is the staircase. You won't kill yourself falling from it, dixit Tyr. I guess he checked."
Serrano appeared on the top stair. Gabriel paused right there in the middle and looked up at her. She gave Gabriel a long thoughtful look right back. Duane wondered if everyone in this house but him was a mind-reader.
"Well. You're here."
"Well... Yes."
Tyr joined Serrano on the landing, an eyebrow arched quizzically.
"Oh, good, someone else who's missed an episode," Duane quipped, and draped an arm lazily along the banister as he looked from one to the other.
Gabriel let out a long sigh, ruffled his curls, and smiled at Duane, for once unconvincingly. "Oh, nothing important," he said, starting up the stair again.
"Pull the other one, it's got bells on."
Gabriel ignored him to look at Tyr, facing him, smile melting away. "I hope I am not imposing."
"I did invite you."
"I don't know how long I'll stay."
"That's fine."
Gabriel stared at him a couple of seconds longer, and then sighed a second time and started smiling again. Then he turned to Duane, who was very much not sulking at all, for the record. "In the interest of keeping your frustrations to a minimum... As of yesterday ten P.M., I'm officially destitute and disowned." He ruffled his hair again and gave a rueful smile. "So, here I am."
-- Ouch. Okay. Yeah.
Tyr reached for the back of his waistband, and for a second Duane thought he was going for a gun; but instead he pulled out a hammer and handed it to Gabe, matter-of-fact. "Better stop slacking if you don't want it to rain on your bed."
Gabriel started laughing. "Sir, yes, sir."
Tyr paused in mid-turn and gave him a cautious look over his shoulder. "...We're the same rank."
"This is your command, sir," Gabriel said with a little grin.
Tyr snorted. "Then I command you to pretend it isn't. Serrano will hold the planks for you. Go fix that hole."
"Hm, dilemma. This sure sounded like an order. Is the previous order countermanded?"
"Augh!" Duane protested. "I'm gonna countermand your ass if you keep going like that. Get moving."
Laughing, Gabriel disappeared down the corridor. Serrano followed, her shoulder brushing the wall. Duane wondered if that was because of the eye or what. Surely she didn't need both to follow a straight line.
"Duane."
He blinked. Tyr was still there. "Yeah?"
"Come on. Wallpaper to tear down."
"Oh, yay." But of course he followed.
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Love the interactions between Gabe and Duane. In fact, love Duane's interactions with everybody.
... Kind of want to draw Serrano.
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I officially love Duane the most now. <3
I don't mind the slow pace of this chapter. Every good novel needs a chapter or two dedicated to introducing the characters, and this one flows quite well (in my opinion).
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(Anonymous) 2009-11-03 02:46 am (UTC)(link)Probably a good thing, too, he looked halfway through a reject last I saw him." For such a casual comment, that holds a lot of interesting possibilities. We gonna see someone reject their meds? (or otherwise get more info on this?)
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A couple thoughts for when you come back to edit:
If the line "Okay, yes it did" from the cut text is meant to be an actual part of the story... it kind of got lost from the version one sees when one clicks on said cut text.
You won't kill yourself falling from it, dixit Tyr. I had never heard of 'dixit' as a word. My dictionary had not either. An online dictionary of legal terms tells me the following: ipse dixit (ip-sah-dicks-it) v. Latin for "he himself said it," meaning the only proof we have of the fact is that this person said it. So I see how you got that usage. But I have to say, if you need to look up a word in a legal dictionary, it is going to baffle a lot of people. I'd go with 'according to' instead. (Unless your point is that Duane does know and freely uses difficult and uncommon words? If that is the case, cool! I am all in favor of soldiers from the sticks talking like Harvard-educated lawyers. *grin*)
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BTW: spelling here changed. Is it meant to?
Or masturbation. And what a coincidence, three hour long sessions with his Not So Little Dwayne left his hands chafed and his shoulders cramping in about the same way. Perhaps with fewer blisters.
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