Have
Title: Orange space. (Fallen ships)
Fandom: Amazing Spider-man.
Pairing: Wade Wilson/Peter Parker.
Table and prompt: Table A-B-C. #67 Have.
Summary: Bob hates his life.
Word count: 1.411.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Guns. Dark themes.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Status: Complete.
It’s just an easy work, they said, we need to drop some materials at the command base and everything’s fine.
Well, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Thinking better, he wasn’t even paid enough to endure this kind of situation, more than it, his training and mind weren’t enough for this.
It was scary, really. No one mentioned the possibility of something wrong happening in this mission, after all, it was a simple task, something that tons of ships did every day, except that he worked for an organization that was always operating with things considered illegal.
Of course, he admitted, he acted in a very stupid and careless way; how could he not notice that something was off? They always used small, discreet ships to deliver objects, calling only two or three persons to operate the bridge. This time they were in a huge starship, lurking in the middle of nothing, in places where legislation didn’t exist.
Bob took a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands and legs. The alarm ringing through the ship was loud enough to cover his own thoughts.
Right, this was an emergency, code red. Deep breath. He just needed to stay calm and contact someone to know what was really happening. It was easy, yeah.
He placed one finger at the screen, ready to enter a code when the A.I. blocked the interface, informing with bright words that all the ship systems weren’t properly functioning.
“Okay, okay, everything’s fine…” - Bob felt himself sweating profusely, the little drops reflecting the red from the lights. Deep breath.
His station was a tiny room in the lowest floor. From there he could check the fuel and propellers in the ship and fix anything that was out of order. That was his job and, bragging a little, he was one of the best in the field. Had he paid more attention, this was another sign that the current mission was anything but ordinary; no one really cared about technical problems with propellers in small trips, after all, a simple engineer could repair them.
Bob started when the monotone voice of the artificial intelligence began to echo through the corridors, informing that the ship was under attack and all the possible exit routes were being closed until second orders. The crew should remain in their current locations.
Something big was happening, something that even the commander wasn’t able to handle.
Bob, being alone in one of the most distant rooms of the entire ship, unable to access the communication channels, could only imagine what was taking place in the upper floors. For all he knew they could be suffering an attack from some alien race or even the interplanetary police.
G-d, he knew that accepting this mission was a bad idea. Sure, he received a pretty decent payment, but nothing was worth his life, because yes, chances that he wasn’t going to leave this ship breathing were high.
Bob, still shaking, looked around.
The room was painted in red, the only sounds being the siren and the repetitive warning from the A.I.
He couldn’t stay there, only waiting for his fate and a possible death. If he did nothing for himself now, no one would.
During all his life Bob was treated as someone weak, disposable, an average man in the middle of a great era where new galaxies were discovered almost every day. He wasn’t fond of picking fights, preferring to keep a smile on his face and pretend that everything was okay.
However, the longer he heard the siren, the sound getting louder, engraving itself inside his skull, the more he knew that he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be left behind, not again. There was places he wished to visit, things he wanted to learn. He simply couldn’t stay there.
“I’m sorry commander… But I’m not following your orders…” - the door only opened manually, revealing a long, deserted corridor. Bob swallowed. At least no aliens, yet.
He could try and reach the elevator, from there it was easy to access all the other floors. Perhaps he could help someone, even save the entire ship.
Bob grabbed the only gun he had and, with his heart almost escaping from his chest, started to walk through the passageway.
Deep breath. A step after step.
All the rooms were locked, no one was shouting or calling from help, which was a good sign, after all, Bob didn’t really know how to shoot; his aiming was terrible.
“Just a little more…” - he murmured, walking very near the wall, looking forward, to the elevator - “For the--“- Bob shrieked when the doors opened, revealing a muscular man and a blond woman. Both wore vicious expressions and guns, laser guns.
“Hey!” - the girl shouted and no, she wasn’t from the crew and didn’t seem friendly, especially with the gun pointing toward his forehead - “Come here!”
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know--“
The man next to her sighed and mumbled something that Bob heard as “idiot”, but this wasn’t important, the fact that he was shooting, though, was very important.
Bob screamed, feeling his right knee burn, the muscles, bones, blood, everything just stopping to function, only the pain was a constant, a torrent of agony traveling through his body.
The woman started to approach, saying something that, under the sirens and the throbbing in his ears, was nothing more than a whisper of silence.
The pain, even though suffocating, made the situation more real. If before Bob thought he was going to die, now he was sure. That woman was still carrying her gun and no one was going to help. He was alone, but not defeated.
In a desperate motion, with his vision blurred by tears and a hand holding the injured knee, Bob shot, missing his targets and hitting the wall, but gaining time to run.
And it hurt. It hurt like hell, as if a huge, scary symbiote bit off a chunk of his leg.
He didn’t know if he was screaming, crying or swearing, the only thing in his mind was that he needed to run and reach the place where all the escape modules were.
Bob was leaping, desperate, his hands badly shaking while he pressed the buttons in a door to make it open and then close, delaying the invaders a little longer.
What they wanted or who they were was beyond Bob and, honestly, he didn’t care. They looked like assassins, space pirates or some kind of mercenaries, nothing good emanated from them. Thinking better, they’re pretty brave, invading a ship owned by one of the biggest organizations in the whole universe with only a pair of guns...
Bob dragged himself to the nearest elevator, allowing his body to relax when the doors closed, ignoring the A.I. still saying that the ship was under attack.
Right, he was almost there. He just needed to open the gate manually and operate the module. It was simple, nothing could go wrong.
“Shit… It hurts” - he mumbled, finally reaching one of the small escape units, pressing a bottom to open the door while he tried to unlock the gate.
Once in the outer space, he could send a signal to one of the bases and ask for help. G-d, what if everyone in this ship was dead? No… He couldn’t be the only survivor, he refused to believe in another thing.
Gritting his teeth, Bob finally entered the module, sitting on the chair and pressing his hand on the screen, activating the system.
Only when the ship door closed and the familiar hum of a machine flooded his ears that Bob released the breath he was holding.
Safe. Alive. Now he could help, now he could do something to--
“Get us out of here or I blow your mind” - a feminine, yet rough voice stated.
He could feel the heat from a laser gun pointed directly at his nape.
“…Please don’t hurt me, I don’t know anything!” - which was true, since he just accepted this mission for the money without knowing what they’re doing. His only orders were to check the fuel and repair anything if necessary.
“Yeah, yeah, just drive” - this time the man spoke, and Bob had the guts to look briefly at him, seeing a tiny container on a hand and a big gun on another.
Screw calm and breathing exercises. He was going to die.
Fandom: Amazing Spider-man.
Pairing: Wade Wilson/Peter Parker.
Table and prompt: Table A-B-C. #67 Have.
Summary: Bob hates his life.
Word count: 1.411.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Guns. Dark themes.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Status: Complete.
It’s just an easy work, they said, we need to drop some materials at the command base and everything’s fine.
Well, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Thinking better, he wasn’t even paid enough to endure this kind of situation, more than it, his training and mind weren’t enough for this.
It was scary, really. No one mentioned the possibility of something wrong happening in this mission, after all, it was a simple task, something that tons of ships did every day, except that he worked for an organization that was always operating with things considered illegal.
Of course, he admitted, he acted in a very stupid and careless way; how could he not notice that something was off? They always used small, discreet ships to deliver objects, calling only two or three persons to operate the bridge. This time they were in a huge starship, lurking in the middle of nothing, in places where legislation didn’t exist.
Bob took a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands and legs. The alarm ringing through the ship was loud enough to cover his own thoughts.
Right, this was an emergency, code red. Deep breath. He just needed to stay calm and contact someone to know what was really happening. It was easy, yeah.
He placed one finger at the screen, ready to enter a code when the A.I. blocked the interface, informing with bright words that all the ship systems weren’t properly functioning.
“Okay, okay, everything’s fine…” - Bob felt himself sweating profusely, the little drops reflecting the red from the lights. Deep breath.
His station was a tiny room in the lowest floor. From there he could check the fuel and propellers in the ship and fix anything that was out of order. That was his job and, bragging a little, he was one of the best in the field. Had he paid more attention, this was another sign that the current mission was anything but ordinary; no one really cared about technical problems with propellers in small trips, after all, a simple engineer could repair them.
Bob started when the monotone voice of the artificial intelligence began to echo through the corridors, informing that the ship was under attack and all the possible exit routes were being closed until second orders. The crew should remain in their current locations.
Something big was happening, something that even the commander wasn’t able to handle.
Bob, being alone in one of the most distant rooms of the entire ship, unable to access the communication channels, could only imagine what was taking place in the upper floors. For all he knew they could be suffering an attack from some alien race or even the interplanetary police.
G-d, he knew that accepting this mission was a bad idea. Sure, he received a pretty decent payment, but nothing was worth his life, because yes, chances that he wasn’t going to leave this ship breathing were high.
Bob, still shaking, looked around.
The room was painted in red, the only sounds being the siren and the repetitive warning from the A.I.
He couldn’t stay there, only waiting for his fate and a possible death. If he did nothing for himself now, no one would.
During all his life Bob was treated as someone weak, disposable, an average man in the middle of a great era where new galaxies were discovered almost every day. He wasn’t fond of picking fights, preferring to keep a smile on his face and pretend that everything was okay.
However, the longer he heard the siren, the sound getting louder, engraving itself inside his skull, the more he knew that he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be left behind, not again. There was places he wished to visit, things he wanted to learn. He simply couldn’t stay there.
“I’m sorry commander… But I’m not following your orders…” - the door only opened manually, revealing a long, deserted corridor. Bob swallowed. At least no aliens, yet.
He could try and reach the elevator, from there it was easy to access all the other floors. Perhaps he could help someone, even save the entire ship.
Bob grabbed the only gun he had and, with his heart almost escaping from his chest, started to walk through the passageway.
Deep breath. A step after step.
All the rooms were locked, no one was shouting or calling from help, which was a good sign, after all, Bob didn’t really know how to shoot; his aiming was terrible.
“Just a little more…” - he murmured, walking very near the wall, looking forward, to the elevator - “For the--“- Bob shrieked when the doors opened, revealing a muscular man and a blond woman. Both wore vicious expressions and guns, laser guns.
“Hey!” - the girl shouted and no, she wasn’t from the crew and didn’t seem friendly, especially with the gun pointing toward his forehead - “Come here!”
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know--“
The man next to her sighed and mumbled something that Bob heard as “idiot”, but this wasn’t important, the fact that he was shooting, though, was very important.
Bob screamed, feeling his right knee burn, the muscles, bones, blood, everything just stopping to function, only the pain was a constant, a torrent of agony traveling through his body.
The woman started to approach, saying something that, under the sirens and the throbbing in his ears, was nothing more than a whisper of silence.
The pain, even though suffocating, made the situation more real. If before Bob thought he was going to die, now he was sure. That woman was still carrying her gun and no one was going to help. He was alone, but not defeated.
In a desperate motion, with his vision blurred by tears and a hand holding the injured knee, Bob shot, missing his targets and hitting the wall, but gaining time to run.
And it hurt. It hurt like hell, as if a huge, scary symbiote bit off a chunk of his leg.
He didn’t know if he was screaming, crying or swearing, the only thing in his mind was that he needed to run and reach the place where all the escape modules were.
Bob was leaping, desperate, his hands badly shaking while he pressed the buttons in a door to make it open and then close, delaying the invaders a little longer.
What they wanted or who they were was beyond Bob and, honestly, he didn’t care. They looked like assassins, space pirates or some kind of mercenaries, nothing good emanated from them. Thinking better, they’re pretty brave, invading a ship owned by one of the biggest organizations in the whole universe with only a pair of guns...
Bob dragged himself to the nearest elevator, allowing his body to relax when the doors closed, ignoring the A.I. still saying that the ship was under attack.
Right, he was almost there. He just needed to open the gate manually and operate the module. It was simple, nothing could go wrong.
“Shit… It hurts” - he mumbled, finally reaching one of the small escape units, pressing a bottom to open the door while he tried to unlock the gate.
Once in the outer space, he could send a signal to one of the bases and ask for help. G-d, what if everyone in this ship was dead? No… He couldn’t be the only survivor, he refused to believe in another thing.
Gritting his teeth, Bob finally entered the module, sitting on the chair and pressing his hand on the screen, activating the system.
Only when the ship door closed and the familiar hum of a machine flooded his ears that Bob released the breath he was holding.
Safe. Alive. Now he could help, now he could do something to--
“Get us out of here or I blow your mind” - a feminine, yet rough voice stated.
He could feel the heat from a laser gun pointed directly at his nape.
“…Please don’t hurt me, I don’t know anything!” - which was true, since he just accepted this mission for the money without knowing what they’re doing. His only orders were to check the fuel and repair anything if necessary.
“Yeah, yeah, just drive” - this time the man spoke, and Bob had the guts to look briefly at him, seeing a tiny container on a hand and a big gun on another.
Screw calm and breathing exercises. He was going to die.