Fic: "Mens Agitat Molem" (Hornblower AU: HH&WB, gen)
Mens Agitat Molem
by Brewster North
for
damned_colonial/damned_colonial's Age of Sail fanwork-a-thon at
age_of_sail
Characters: HH, WB (mild HH/WB)
Rating: gen
Length: 440 words approx
A/N: In the same HH AU as my earlier fic 10-54: Hornblower is a paramedic, Bush is an FDNY firefighter.
“This was not how I intended to spend my evening,” Toots Hornblower sighed, struggling slightly in his bonds. His fingers hadn't gone completely numb quite yet, but if he didn't get his hands down quickly he was going to be in difficulties. He dreaded to think what was happening right now to all Alvarado's other hostages in similar straits spread around the rest of this warehouse in ones and twos, waiting for death. The man might be insane, crazy enough to call himself El Supremo, monarch of this godforsaken slum, but he was a canny one. Isolated, people are less likely to fight back than as a group.
Toots wrenched downward and tried to get his weight to bear on whatever it was holding his handcuffs to the cyclopean duct he'd been shackled to, but no dice. “Damn it. Up to our ears in wire in this place, and no way to - grab some of it to pick these goddamn handcuffs.” This was truly the torment of Tantalus. He wasn't heavy enough to break loose, and yet he wasn't - just - thin enough to slip free. (He was not going to lay himself open to any sort of jokes about homos and lubricant. Boy, did that come out wrong.) “Bush? What the hell're you doing?”
The firefighter didn't bother to answer, just kept on banging at the duct from his side of it.
“No use calling for help, they know we're in here. Figure they're just trying to negotiate with El Supremo. For all the good that'll do 'em.”
No response, just more clang, clang, clang.
“Hey, c'mon, we gotta get outta here.”
Bush let out a grunt, and with one last clang Toots was loose of the duct. Still 'cuffed, but in a lot more of a situation to be able to get free. “Hey,” Bush panted, “Mister Fine Motor Skills, maybe you can help me the rest of the way out?”
Toots scrambled round to the other side of the duct, and blinked. Bush'd been able to work one hand free just enough to reach the fire-ax left in front of him as a teasing gesture, grab it, and instead of hacking his way out of his own bonds, reach around awkwardly with his left hand and cut Toots loose from the other side of the duct.
“Sure,” Toots stammered. He had a new respect for this lunatic of a firefighter.
“Then we get the rest of the guys, right?”
“Right.” It was a chance in a million, but if anyone could do it, Bush and he could.
by Brewster North
for
damned_colonial/damned_colonial's Age of Sail fanwork-a-thon at
age_of_sail
Characters: HH, WB (mild HH/WB)
Rating: gen
Length: 440 words approx
A/N: In the same HH AU as my earlier fic 10-54: Hornblower is a paramedic, Bush is an FDNY firefighter.
“This was not how I intended to spend my evening,” Toots Hornblower sighed, struggling slightly in his bonds. His fingers hadn't gone completely numb quite yet, but if he didn't get his hands down quickly he was going to be in difficulties. He dreaded to think what was happening right now to all Alvarado's other hostages in similar straits spread around the rest of this warehouse in ones and twos, waiting for death. The man might be insane, crazy enough to call himself El Supremo, monarch of this godforsaken slum, but he was a canny one. Isolated, people are less likely to fight back than as a group.
Toots wrenched downward and tried to get his weight to bear on whatever it was holding his handcuffs to the cyclopean duct he'd been shackled to, but no dice. “Damn it. Up to our ears in wire in this place, and no way to - grab some of it to pick these goddamn handcuffs.” This was truly the torment of Tantalus. He wasn't heavy enough to break loose, and yet he wasn't - just - thin enough to slip free. (He was not going to lay himself open to any sort of jokes about homos and lubricant. Boy, did that come out wrong.) “Bush? What the hell're you doing?”
The firefighter didn't bother to answer, just kept on banging at the duct from his side of it.
“No use calling for help, they know we're in here. Figure they're just trying to negotiate with El Supremo. For all the good that'll do 'em.”
No response, just more clang, clang, clang.
“Hey, c'mon, we gotta get outta here.”
Bush let out a grunt, and with one last clang Toots was loose of the duct. Still 'cuffed, but in a lot more of a situation to be able to get free. “Hey,” Bush panted, “Mister Fine Motor Skills, maybe you can help me the rest of the way out?”
Toots scrambled round to the other side of the duct, and blinked. Bush'd been able to work one hand free just enough to reach the fire-ax left in front of him as a teasing gesture, grab it, and instead of hacking his way out of his own bonds, reach around awkwardly with his left hand and cut Toots loose from the other side of the duct.
“Sure,” Toots stammered. He had a new respect for this lunatic of a firefighter.
“Then we get the rest of the guys, right?”
“Right.” It was a chance in a million, but if anyone could do it, Bush and he could.