[2010 Resolution] Drabble 35
Date: 17 December 2012
Prompt: "I am waiting for something to go wrong."
He slips through the portal, a straggler like always but as he's not the very last one, Before doesn't worry about being podded for tardiness. Not this time at least. The triage tent is full, Moon and Life Hunters barking out orders that the uninjured should get out and make room. Before recalls the bouts of laser-fire and the hail of razor-shards from the mission, but he doesn't feel anything out of the ordinary. He can move well enough, no limp, no sprain, okay maybe a sore muscle or two (or ten) but that was par for the course and didn't require immediate medical attention.
He has reports to file and paperwork to finish and as he's about to exit the tent, he gives the crowd a quick scan. He doesn't spot the pale hair of his best bro Bix. He doesn't see the dark, beautiful braid of his best girl Tori. And he doesn't catch the bright, bright orange of his other best girl Ofie. Either they were lying down on a cot and being tended to, or they weren't too banged up from the mission and had been ejected from the tent. He hopes it's the latter because he wasn't going to get a second look before a Moon Hunter all but shoves him out.
A Life Technician reaches for Before, gives the Mist a once-over, remarks, "That's a lotta blood."
Before shrugs it off, insists he's fine and that it's not his blood. Because it isn't his blood. At least, not all of it. The Life Tech just frowns, "If you say so. And uh, can you make a batch of those pecan brownies again?"
Before smiles and nods, promises he'll even add in some macadamia nut cookies too and then he's off to his room. Along the way, the mission keeps replaying in his mind. He thinks about the opportunities presented, those he missed and those he took and those he went to fucking town with. He can't keep himself from smiling fondly at the memory of certain individuals and their mangled bloodied forms. A sad, reluctant sigh slips past his lips, knowing that they were being treated at that very moment.
A shiver skitters up his spine.
Can't win 'em all, he snorts ruefully. When he reaches his dorm room, he feels his phone vibrate. With his left he turns the knob while his right retrieves his phone from his pocket. Teal eyes read the messages from Ofelia and Tori and a smile pulls at his face. He responds, first to Tori, keying in a promise that he was finally going to take her advice and be honest with his feelings.
His hand begins to tremble.
He's nervous, but why shouldn't he be? He wants this message to be perfect. He needs the right balance of urgency and vagueness without sending the recipient into a panic attack. He needs to be direct and up front without giving away too much. His fingers go numb and he's finding it hard to swallow.
Vanna teases him about his anxiety and suggests a nap is in order.
Before's faith in his weapon is unquestionable. He's not going to start doubting her wisdom now. And in the end, he sends Ofelia a short request that she meet him in the kitchen in two hours. Surely by then he'll have finished all the required paperwork and have gotten himself some forty winks. He decides to take the nap first, plops down on his bed face-first, and draws the covers all around him to fend off the spreading chill.
His eyes droop shut and he's asleep almost instantly, fatigue and exhaustion finally catching up to him. His wounds catch up to him as well. Quite possibly even overtakes him.
Two and a half hours later, Before's phone is ringing. The caller ID display Ofelia. He doesn't answer. Doesn't stir.
Not five minutes later and there's a loud banging on his door. Before remains unresponsive.
The banging continues until sharp blades claw their way into the Mist's room, the splintered door reveals Ofelia's figure. She spots Before on the bed, her sigh of relief cuts off, solitary gray eye widening at the blood-soaked sheets wrapped around the Mist.
Prompt: "I am waiting for something to go wrong."
He slips through the portal, a straggler like always but as he's not the very last one, Before doesn't worry about being podded for tardiness. Not this time at least. The triage tent is full, Moon and Life Hunters barking out orders that the uninjured should get out and make room. Before recalls the bouts of laser-fire and the hail of razor-shards from the mission, but he doesn't feel anything out of the ordinary. He can move well enough, no limp, no sprain, okay maybe a sore muscle or two (or ten) but that was par for the course and didn't require immediate medical attention.
He has reports to file and paperwork to finish and as he's about to exit the tent, he gives the crowd a quick scan. He doesn't spot the pale hair of his best bro Bix. He doesn't see the dark, beautiful braid of his best girl Tori. And he doesn't catch the bright, bright orange of his other best girl Ofie. Either they were lying down on a cot and being tended to, or they weren't too banged up from the mission and had been ejected from the tent. He hopes it's the latter because he wasn't going to get a second look before a Moon Hunter all but shoves him out.
A Life Technician reaches for Before, gives the Mist a once-over, remarks, "That's a lotta blood."
Before shrugs it off, insists he's fine and that it's not his blood. Because it isn't his blood. At least, not all of it. The Life Tech just frowns, "If you say so. And uh, can you make a batch of those pecan brownies again?"
Before smiles and nods, promises he'll even add in some macadamia nut cookies too and then he's off to his room. Along the way, the mission keeps replaying in his mind. He thinks about the opportunities presented, those he missed and those he took and those he went to fucking town with. He can't keep himself from smiling fondly at the memory of certain individuals and their mangled bloodied forms. A sad, reluctant sigh slips past his lips, knowing that they were being treated at that very moment.
A shiver skitters up his spine.
Can't win 'em all, he snorts ruefully. When he reaches his dorm room, he feels his phone vibrate. With his left he turns the knob while his right retrieves his phone from his pocket. Teal eyes read the messages from Ofelia and Tori and a smile pulls at his face. He responds, first to Tori, keying in a promise that he was finally going to take her advice and be honest with his feelings.
His hand begins to tremble.
He's nervous, but why shouldn't he be? He wants this message to be perfect. He needs the right balance of urgency and vagueness without sending the recipient into a panic attack. He needs to be direct and up front without giving away too much. His fingers go numb and he's finding it hard to swallow.
Vanna teases him about his anxiety and suggests a nap is in order.
Before's faith in his weapon is unquestionable. He's not going to start doubting her wisdom now. And in the end, he sends Ofelia a short request that she meet him in the kitchen in two hours. Surely by then he'll have finished all the required paperwork and have gotten himself some forty winks. He decides to take the nap first, plops down on his bed face-first, and draws the covers all around him to fend off the spreading chill.
His eyes droop shut and he's asleep almost instantly, fatigue and exhaustion finally catching up to him. His wounds catch up to him as well. Quite possibly even overtakes him.
Two and a half hours later, Before's phone is ringing. The caller ID display Ofelia. He doesn't answer. Doesn't stir.
Not five minutes later and there's a loud banging on his door. Before remains unresponsive.
The banging continues until sharp blades claw their way into the Mist's room, the splintered door reveals Ofelia's figure. She spots Before on the bed, her sigh of relief cuts off, solitary gray eye widening at the blood-soaked sheets wrapped around the Mist.