Unspilt Blood
Title: Unspilt Blood
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters: Sam Anders, Number One, Number Three.
Rating: PG-13 for angst galore.
Notes: AU-verse. Sam makes a trade for Kara: his allegiance to the New Caprica Police for Kara's life. And Cavil enjoys making his Maker squirm. Don't ask me why I do evil things.
He could practically feel the blood on his hands. Unspilt blood…for now. Still, the people he’d taken away…just people. Frak. He’d even known some of them. And to grab them like that, yank them out of their tents in the middle of the night, drag them into vans and drive them in the Detention Center like cattle.
It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. But Sam had stopped living in a fair world a long time ago.
He jumped out of the van, slamming the door shut behind him, and ripped the black mask off his face. “A good night for the New Caprica Police, then?” came a voice that grated on Sam’s every nerve. He turned and saw the old man-Number One-smiling at him like a ghost.
Sam’s blood was running far too hot for this. He grabbed the cylon, shoving him up against the wall (that damn black hat went tumbling to the side, something satisfying about that, at least), and snapped, “I held up my end. Where the frak is Kara?”
“Oooh. Touchy. Not today, Anders.” A voice purred behind him-a Three. With a gun pointed at the back of his head. Sam was nothing to them. They could dispose of him easily. Hell, a Five had snapped a man’s neck in New Caprica yesterday just for bumping into him. Why not Sam? Why did they keep him alive? It’s like they intended to torture him. As though they enjoyed his suffering.
One look in the One’s eyes, and Sam was almost certain he did. That all too smug stare. “Down, boy.”
Sam had run out of plays. Because despite it all, Sam had to live. For Kara. That was the deal. His life in the New Caprica Police. Kara’s release. He’d held up his end…but the cylons were taking damn long enough to hold up theirs. Reluctantly, Sam released the cylon, stepping back.
“Didn’t your Gods teach you something about patience?” The One said, an almost genuine confusion rippling over his feature. “All in due time,” he continued, lifting up his hat, placing it back on his head, pressing away from Anders. The Three shot him one of her coy smirks that made Sam burn from the inside out before following the One in tow. Frakking cylons.
Sam moved away, eager to get out of the place. They had a back way for the New Caprica Police to exit out of, so they wouldn’t get detected by the New Caprica citizens. If anyone knew Sam was working for them…well. Tigh would probably string him up on the rafters himself. Sam tucked the black mask away, hiding it from view, and made a beeline to his tent under the pale light of dawn. Knowing all too well that, in the morning, everyone would wake up to find fifteen more innocent people missing from their tents.
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters: Sam Anders, Number One, Number Three.
Rating: PG-13 for angst galore.
Notes: AU-verse. Sam makes a trade for Kara: his allegiance to the New Caprica Police for Kara's life. And Cavil enjoys making his Maker squirm. Don't ask me why I do evil things.
He could practically feel the blood on his hands. Unspilt blood…for now. Still, the people he’d taken away…just people. Frak. He’d even known some of them. And to grab them like that, yank them out of their tents in the middle of the night, drag them into vans and drive them in the Detention Center like cattle.
It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. But Sam had stopped living in a fair world a long time ago.
He jumped out of the van, slamming the door shut behind him, and ripped the black mask off his face. “A good night for the New Caprica Police, then?” came a voice that grated on Sam’s every nerve. He turned and saw the old man-Number One-smiling at him like a ghost.
Sam’s blood was running far too hot for this. He grabbed the cylon, shoving him up against the wall (that damn black hat went tumbling to the side, something satisfying about that, at least), and snapped, “I held up my end. Where the frak is Kara?”
“Oooh. Touchy. Not today, Anders.” A voice purred behind him-a Three. With a gun pointed at the back of his head. Sam was nothing to them. They could dispose of him easily. Hell, a Five had snapped a man’s neck in New Caprica yesterday just for bumping into him. Why not Sam? Why did they keep him alive? It’s like they intended to torture him. As though they enjoyed his suffering.
One look in the One’s eyes, and Sam was almost certain he did. That all too smug stare. “Down, boy.”
Sam had run out of plays. Because despite it all, Sam had to live. For Kara. That was the deal. His life in the New Caprica Police. Kara’s release. He’d held up his end…but the cylons were taking damn long enough to hold up theirs. Reluctantly, Sam released the cylon, stepping back.
“Didn’t your Gods teach you something about patience?” The One said, an almost genuine confusion rippling over his feature. “All in due time,” he continued, lifting up his hat, placing it back on his head, pressing away from Anders. The Three shot him one of her coy smirks that made Sam burn from the inside out before following the One in tow. Frakking cylons.
Sam moved away, eager to get out of the place. They had a back way for the New Caprica Police to exit out of, so they wouldn’t get detected by the New Caprica citizens. If anyone knew Sam was working for them…well. Tigh would probably string him up on the rafters himself. Sam tucked the black mask away, hiding it from view, and made a beeline to his tent under the pale light of dawn. Knowing all too well that, in the morning, everyone would wake up to find fifteen more innocent people missing from their tents.