Primeval fic: Aphrodite Rising (Part 2)
Title: Aphrodite Rising Part 2
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~2140 (of 9430)
Characters: Tom Ryan, James Lester, OCs and guest appearances from Fred's SFOCs
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: For my Primeval bingo card prompt: Rayguns. Prequel for my Unearthing An Anomaly Space AU series. Thanks goes to Fififolle for the beta and suggestions. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
Ryan spun, his pulser levelled at that voice before he froze, staring down over a dozen pulsers held in the hands of men who could only be in the pay of one of the cartels. He heard the clatter of a pulser hitting the floor and glanced at Lester, seeing the spook had his hands empty and raised. “Lester?”
“Live to fight another day, Ryan,” Lester murmured as he met Ryan's gaze.
“Might get your wish. In The Games,” the man who'd demanded their surrender said before turning to smirk at Ryan. “You want to die here, man, I can arrange that but be more fun in the ring.”
“Ryan,” Lester hissed.
Ryan might not trust Lester but... well, the spook had a point. While he was still breathing, he had a chance to escape, maybe not much of one but he wasn't about to let Lester or his cartel friends win that easily. “Fine,” he muttered and dropped his pulser, wincing when his hands were yanked behind his back and he was frogmarched out of the room. His last glance back showed Lester standing in the room, surrounded and with several pulsers pointing at his black heart.
***
Ryan heard footsteps approaching and allowed himself to slump in his cuffs, his weight supported by the chains he hung from. It hurt and put additional stress on his shoulders, but he needed to feign weakness if he was to have a chance to escape. He felt hands grab his arms and release him from his chains but before he could act he heard someone else enter the room, someone who stood at a distance and too far away for Ryan to risk making any attempt. Fuck!
He had no choice but to continue the pretence, letting the cartel's thugs take his weight as they dragged him along the corridor. He quickly realised where he was being taken and was content to bide his time, waiting for the precise moment to take his chance. In a few moments he'd be in exactly the right place to act.
“Adams.”
“Boss?” One of the men accompanying Ryan spoke, the same thug who had captured him and Lester, the same man who had conducted his interrogation-by-beating.
“Bring him in here.”
Ryan closed his eyes when he was dragged in precisely the opposite direction that he wanted to go. Well, he was used to plans going wrong and knew he could improvise. His knees hit the ground hard when he was shoved to the floor and he winced when his hair was grabbed and his head yanked up, blinking as he stared up at the man in front of him. He was fat and jowly, dripping with gold and Venusian Serpentgems, and with a look Ryan recognised far too well, that of a man willing to order deaths without hesitation or feeling if it would make a point or make him money.
“I was considering putting you in the ring, but I've seen your type before. You'll refuse to fight, refuse to kill,” the man, clearly the leader of this group of cartel thugs said. “I said to myself, Harry, you know what would be more fun?”
“And did you manage to answer yourself?” Lester's voice came from the other side of the room, followed by the sound of fist hitting flesh and a harsh cough.
Ryan managed to move his head enough to see Lester, noticing the spook looked just as bruised and bloodied as Ryan felt. He had the horrible feeling he'd been wrong about Lester, that the spook had been innocent, at least of the sabotage and betrayal of Nike. Thinking about it, Ryan realised he'd known that when he'd last seen the spook, allies didn't often point pulsers at each other.
“I think we should have some introductions, it is only proper when I already know your names.” The smile on Harry's face was cold and calculating. “My name is Big Harry Foster, boss of the Foster Cartel. You two and your friends have been causing me problems, making me come all the way to this pissant settlement to solve those problems. It is my greatest pleasure to inform you that you will soon be ex-members of the Security Forces.”
Lester spat blood on to the floor but didn't reply.
“Oh, I don't mean joining the cartel, I couldn't trust you for a moment not to put a knife through my heart.” Harry smiled, a smile Ryan noticed didn't reach his eyes. “No, I mean ex as in dead. My men will take you out into the deep swamp and leave you there, bound and at the mercy of everything out there.”
“That's not a good idea, Harry.”
Ryan's head jerked upwards at that voice and he glanced at Lester, seeing the fury on the spook's face as he gasped, “McKenzie?”
Harry scowled at McKenzie. “This is not your decision, McKenzie. You took my coin and will obey my orders.”
“Fine, but remember I warned you it is a mistake when it comes back to kick you in the arse,” McKenzie muttered.
Lester spat more blood from his mouth and glared at McKenzie. “Why?”
“You're a bloody fool, Lester,” McKenzie said calmly. “Have you seen the pension package?” His voice took on a harder quality. “I gave them the best years of my life and they're casting me aside.”
“So, when the cartel offered you money...” Lester almost sounded bored, showing that same courage that had so impressed Ryan earlier. “And you call me a fool.”
“I'm not going to be the one who dies on this godforsaken planet,” McKenzie spat.
“Enough,” Harry interrupted. “Take them out and let the swamp kill them.”
Ryan caught the expression on Lester's bloodied face, if looks could kill, McKenzie would be struck dead from the spook's glare. It must be hard to be betrayed by your own CO, a man you trusted with your life.
***
Ryan stumbled when he was shoved out of the swamp-skimmer, the seemingly solid ground bouncing beneath him and throwing him off balance. He landed on his arse with a splash and swallowed as he realised they'd been dumped on a bog. Just perfect, although some of it was solid enough to walk on, other bits would swallow a man in seconds and one misplaced foot would spell doom for him and Lester.
Which reminded him, where the fuck was Lester? Ryan glanced back at the skimmer just in time to see Lester double over when one of the thugs punched him in the stomach before tossing him out into the bog. Lester landed face first in the mire, before groaning as he rolled over and curled up.
Ryan crawled over to Lester to check the spook was OK, cursing the cuffs that bound his wrists and preventing him from examining the man properly. “Lester?”
“I'm fine,” Lester coughed before managing to squirm his way to his knees, although Ryan noticed the spook's wince at his movement.
Before he could call the man out on his injuries, the sound of engines revving had Ryan swearing softly when the swamp-skimmer rose and left them behind. Deep in some godforsaken bog in the middle of who-the-fuck-knew where. What he did know was that they were weaponless and in deep shit. He began to struggle to his feet, feeling the bog shift beneath his feet.
“Shit!” Lester swore as the bog continued to quiver all around them. He rose on shaky legs, grabbed one of Ryan's still bound arms and dragged the soldier to his feet.
Ryan couldn't say he was surprised the spook had freed himself, although it would have been better if the man had untied him too. Before Ryan could suggest that to Lester, the spook had turned towards a nearby hummock and took off at speed, dragging Ryan with him. Speed that was not encouraged when crossing the bogs, not when the bog could go from solid to only apparently solid from one step to the next. “Lester! For fuck sake, stop!”
Lester ignored him and continued on his apparently suicidal dash across the bog, only stopping when he reached the solid soil of the hummock. Ryan opened his mouth to yell at Lester, biting back his words when the spook collapsed to his knees amidst the trees, gasping for breath and holding his ribs.
“Lester?” Ryan dropped to his knees, wrestling with his cuffs and cursing them once more when they refused to give.
“I'm fine.”
Ryan wasn't convinced, not with the way Lester was still gasping for air. He glanced around for some way to free himself when he felt Lester grasp his arm and then Ryan's hands were free. He quirked an eyebrow at Lester, who showed him the sharp Carbo-titanium combat blade he must have pick pocketed from the Cartel thugs. Well, that explained what had happened on the swamp-skimmer. Bloody spook.
“Thanks,” Ryan muttered before checking Lester for injuries. Ryan moved to stand up when the spook winced as his ribs were touched and found Lester's hand tight around his wrist.
“Stay still and watch.”
Lester's voice had Ryan glance at him, frowning when he noticed the spook was staring at the skimmer with a small smile on his face. “What are you smiling at?”
“Watch,” Lester repeated and nodded towards the skimmer. “They're fools, but we might gain from their stupidity.”
“What?” Ryan had to wonder if Lester had suffered some kind of head injury when he'd been knocked about by the cartel hired thugs. That might explain the man's mad and suicidal dash across the bog.
“Oh,” Lester said as he slowly tilted over onto his side. “You might want to duck.”
Ryan stared at the man before glancing around in alarm when the bog visibly shook even harder, swallowing hard when the solid spot they'd been stranded on turned to liquid. If they'd still been there... “Fuck!” He ducked when the bog seemed to erupt, globules of mud and bog raining down around them as tentacles emerged from it, dripping with water and muck as they waved in the air.
He watched wide-eyed as the skimmer pilot tried to avoid the flailing tentacles which appeared to be trying to swat the skimmer from the air. The pilot had almost made it when one tentacle caught the skimmer a glancing blow and sent it straight into another; this one curled around one of the engines and held on. Ryan assumed the pilot must have opened the throttle from the increased whining from the engine. He knew something had to give, either the tentacle would release the skimmer or the engine would blow. He wasn't surprised by the loud thwrap and the smoke and flames that erupted out of the engine. The burning tentacle released the skimmer, flailing before falling back into the bog and he thought for a moment that the skimmer would make it... but the engine stuttered and failed, sending the skimmer into a spiralling descent straight into the bog where it belly-flopped.
Ryan stared at the downed skimmer, his eyes calculating whether he could safely reach it. He swore again when he realised the bog nearest to the hummock wouldn't hold his weight now it had been disturbed. He also knew it was unlikely he'd have time to make bog-shoes before the skimmer either sank without trace or the crew managed to either repair it or call in for help. “What the fuck was that?”
“The reason I decided we'd be safer here.” The spook sounded bloody full of himself when he smirked up at Ryan. “Didn't you read your briefing?”
Ryan frowned. “Of course I did.”
“Just wondering when you ignored the warning signs.” Lester hissed when he moved slightly.
“Stay fucking still,” Ryan growled and knelt back down, a hand on Lester's shoulder. “I think you've got cracked, possibly broken ribs.”
“Really? That probably explains why they hurt,” Lester muttered.
“Bloody spook,” Ryan muttered back before remembering the conversation. “What warning signs?”
“You did notice the bog shuddering?” Lester asked in a tone that implied he didn't think much of Ryan's intelligence.
“I did,” Ryan defended himself before realising he'd just implied he hadn't read the briefing. “What was that?”
“A swamp-squid, possibly named because bog-squid doesn't have quite the same panache.”
“A what?” Ryan knew he sounded worried, his hands gentle as he examined Lester's head. “Did you hit your head?”
“What?” Lester asked as he tried to pull away from Ryan's hands.
“Swamp-squids are just tales told to scare newcomers. They don't exist.”
“Really?” Lester quirked an eyebrow. “What is that then?”
Ryan turned, jumping when the bog erupted once more as something large and bulbous rose out of the muck. Something large enough to engulf the downed skimmer and swallow it whole. “Bloody fucking hell.”
Part 3
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~2140 (of 9430)
Characters: Tom Ryan, James Lester, OCs and guest appearances from Fred's SFOCs
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: For my Primeval bingo card prompt: Rayguns. Prequel for my Unearthing An Anomaly Space AU series. Thanks goes to Fififolle for the beta and suggestions. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
Ryan spun, his pulser levelled at that voice before he froze, staring down over a dozen pulsers held in the hands of men who could only be in the pay of one of the cartels. He heard the clatter of a pulser hitting the floor and glanced at Lester, seeing the spook had his hands empty and raised. “Lester?”
“Live to fight another day, Ryan,” Lester murmured as he met Ryan's gaze.
“Might get your wish. In The Games,” the man who'd demanded their surrender said before turning to smirk at Ryan. “You want to die here, man, I can arrange that but be more fun in the ring.”
“Ryan,” Lester hissed.
Ryan might not trust Lester but... well, the spook had a point. While he was still breathing, he had a chance to escape, maybe not much of one but he wasn't about to let Lester or his cartel friends win that easily. “Fine,” he muttered and dropped his pulser, wincing when his hands were yanked behind his back and he was frogmarched out of the room. His last glance back showed Lester standing in the room, surrounded and with several pulsers pointing at his black heart.
***
Ryan heard footsteps approaching and allowed himself to slump in his cuffs, his weight supported by the chains he hung from. It hurt and put additional stress on his shoulders, but he needed to feign weakness if he was to have a chance to escape. He felt hands grab his arms and release him from his chains but before he could act he heard someone else enter the room, someone who stood at a distance and too far away for Ryan to risk making any attempt. Fuck!
He had no choice but to continue the pretence, letting the cartel's thugs take his weight as they dragged him along the corridor. He quickly realised where he was being taken and was content to bide his time, waiting for the precise moment to take his chance. In a few moments he'd be in exactly the right place to act.
“Adams.”
“Boss?” One of the men accompanying Ryan spoke, the same thug who had captured him and Lester, the same man who had conducted his interrogation-by-beating.
“Bring him in here.”
Ryan closed his eyes when he was dragged in precisely the opposite direction that he wanted to go. Well, he was used to plans going wrong and knew he could improvise. His knees hit the ground hard when he was shoved to the floor and he winced when his hair was grabbed and his head yanked up, blinking as he stared up at the man in front of him. He was fat and jowly, dripping with gold and Venusian Serpentgems, and with a look Ryan recognised far too well, that of a man willing to order deaths without hesitation or feeling if it would make a point or make him money.
“I was considering putting you in the ring, but I've seen your type before. You'll refuse to fight, refuse to kill,” the man, clearly the leader of this group of cartel thugs said. “I said to myself, Harry, you know what would be more fun?”
“And did you manage to answer yourself?” Lester's voice came from the other side of the room, followed by the sound of fist hitting flesh and a harsh cough.
Ryan managed to move his head enough to see Lester, noticing the spook looked just as bruised and bloodied as Ryan felt. He had the horrible feeling he'd been wrong about Lester, that the spook had been innocent, at least of the sabotage and betrayal of Nike. Thinking about it, Ryan realised he'd known that when he'd last seen the spook, allies didn't often point pulsers at each other.
“I think we should have some introductions, it is only proper when I already know your names.” The smile on Harry's face was cold and calculating. “My name is Big Harry Foster, boss of the Foster Cartel. You two and your friends have been causing me problems, making me come all the way to this pissant settlement to solve those problems. It is my greatest pleasure to inform you that you will soon be ex-members of the Security Forces.”
Lester spat blood on to the floor but didn't reply.
“Oh, I don't mean joining the cartel, I couldn't trust you for a moment not to put a knife through my heart.” Harry smiled, a smile Ryan noticed didn't reach his eyes. “No, I mean ex as in dead. My men will take you out into the deep swamp and leave you there, bound and at the mercy of everything out there.”
“That's not a good idea, Harry.”
Ryan's head jerked upwards at that voice and he glanced at Lester, seeing the fury on the spook's face as he gasped, “McKenzie?”
Harry scowled at McKenzie. “This is not your decision, McKenzie. You took my coin and will obey my orders.”
“Fine, but remember I warned you it is a mistake when it comes back to kick you in the arse,” McKenzie muttered.
Lester spat more blood from his mouth and glared at McKenzie. “Why?”
“You're a bloody fool, Lester,” McKenzie said calmly. “Have you seen the pension package?” His voice took on a harder quality. “I gave them the best years of my life and they're casting me aside.”
“So, when the cartel offered you money...” Lester almost sounded bored, showing that same courage that had so impressed Ryan earlier. “And you call me a fool.”
“I'm not going to be the one who dies on this godforsaken planet,” McKenzie spat.
“Enough,” Harry interrupted. “Take them out and let the swamp kill them.”
Ryan caught the expression on Lester's bloodied face, if looks could kill, McKenzie would be struck dead from the spook's glare. It must be hard to be betrayed by your own CO, a man you trusted with your life.
***
Ryan stumbled when he was shoved out of the swamp-skimmer, the seemingly solid ground bouncing beneath him and throwing him off balance. He landed on his arse with a splash and swallowed as he realised they'd been dumped on a bog. Just perfect, although some of it was solid enough to walk on, other bits would swallow a man in seconds and one misplaced foot would spell doom for him and Lester.
Which reminded him, where the fuck was Lester? Ryan glanced back at the skimmer just in time to see Lester double over when one of the thugs punched him in the stomach before tossing him out into the bog. Lester landed face first in the mire, before groaning as he rolled over and curled up.
Ryan crawled over to Lester to check the spook was OK, cursing the cuffs that bound his wrists and preventing him from examining the man properly. “Lester?”
“I'm fine,” Lester coughed before managing to squirm his way to his knees, although Ryan noticed the spook's wince at his movement.
Before he could call the man out on his injuries, the sound of engines revving had Ryan swearing softly when the swamp-skimmer rose and left them behind. Deep in some godforsaken bog in the middle of who-the-fuck-knew where. What he did know was that they were weaponless and in deep shit. He began to struggle to his feet, feeling the bog shift beneath his feet.
“Shit!” Lester swore as the bog continued to quiver all around them. He rose on shaky legs, grabbed one of Ryan's still bound arms and dragged the soldier to his feet.
Ryan couldn't say he was surprised the spook had freed himself, although it would have been better if the man had untied him too. Before Ryan could suggest that to Lester, the spook had turned towards a nearby hummock and took off at speed, dragging Ryan with him. Speed that was not encouraged when crossing the bogs, not when the bog could go from solid to only apparently solid from one step to the next. “Lester! For fuck sake, stop!”
Lester ignored him and continued on his apparently suicidal dash across the bog, only stopping when he reached the solid soil of the hummock. Ryan opened his mouth to yell at Lester, biting back his words when the spook collapsed to his knees amidst the trees, gasping for breath and holding his ribs.
“Lester?” Ryan dropped to his knees, wrestling with his cuffs and cursing them once more when they refused to give.
“I'm fine.”
Ryan wasn't convinced, not with the way Lester was still gasping for air. He glanced around for some way to free himself when he felt Lester grasp his arm and then Ryan's hands were free. He quirked an eyebrow at Lester, who showed him the sharp Carbo-titanium combat blade he must have pick pocketed from the Cartel thugs. Well, that explained what had happened on the swamp-skimmer. Bloody spook.
“Thanks,” Ryan muttered before checking Lester for injuries. Ryan moved to stand up when the spook winced as his ribs were touched and found Lester's hand tight around his wrist.
“Stay still and watch.”
Lester's voice had Ryan glance at him, frowning when he noticed the spook was staring at the skimmer with a small smile on his face. “What are you smiling at?”
“Watch,” Lester repeated and nodded towards the skimmer. “They're fools, but we might gain from their stupidity.”
“What?” Ryan had to wonder if Lester had suffered some kind of head injury when he'd been knocked about by the cartel hired thugs. That might explain the man's mad and suicidal dash across the bog.
“Oh,” Lester said as he slowly tilted over onto his side. “You might want to duck.”
Ryan stared at the man before glancing around in alarm when the bog visibly shook even harder, swallowing hard when the solid spot they'd been stranded on turned to liquid. If they'd still been there... “Fuck!” He ducked when the bog seemed to erupt, globules of mud and bog raining down around them as tentacles emerged from it, dripping with water and muck as they waved in the air.
He watched wide-eyed as the skimmer pilot tried to avoid the flailing tentacles which appeared to be trying to swat the skimmer from the air. The pilot had almost made it when one tentacle caught the skimmer a glancing blow and sent it straight into another; this one curled around one of the engines and held on. Ryan assumed the pilot must have opened the throttle from the increased whining from the engine. He knew something had to give, either the tentacle would release the skimmer or the engine would blow. He wasn't surprised by the loud thwrap and the smoke and flames that erupted out of the engine. The burning tentacle released the skimmer, flailing before falling back into the bog and he thought for a moment that the skimmer would make it... but the engine stuttered and failed, sending the skimmer into a spiralling descent straight into the bog where it belly-flopped.
Ryan stared at the downed skimmer, his eyes calculating whether he could safely reach it. He swore again when he realised the bog nearest to the hummock wouldn't hold his weight now it had been disturbed. He also knew it was unlikely he'd have time to make bog-shoes before the skimmer either sank without trace or the crew managed to either repair it or call in for help. “What the fuck was that?”
“The reason I decided we'd be safer here.” The spook sounded bloody full of himself when he smirked up at Ryan. “Didn't you read your briefing?”
Ryan frowned. “Of course I did.”
“Just wondering when you ignored the warning signs.” Lester hissed when he moved slightly.
“Stay fucking still,” Ryan growled and knelt back down, a hand on Lester's shoulder. “I think you've got cracked, possibly broken ribs.”
“Really? That probably explains why they hurt,” Lester muttered.
“Bloody spook,” Ryan muttered back before remembering the conversation. “What warning signs?”
“You did notice the bog shuddering?” Lester asked in a tone that implied he didn't think much of Ryan's intelligence.
“I did,” Ryan defended himself before realising he'd just implied he hadn't read the briefing. “What was that?”
“A swamp-squid, possibly named because bog-squid doesn't have quite the same panache.”
“A what?” Ryan knew he sounded worried, his hands gentle as he examined Lester's head. “Did you hit your head?”
“What?” Lester asked as he tried to pull away from Ryan's hands.
“Swamp-squids are just tales told to scare newcomers. They don't exist.”
“Really?” Lester quirked an eyebrow. “What is that then?”
Ryan turned, jumping when the bog erupted once more as something large and bulbous rose out of the muck. Something large enough to engulf the downed skimmer and swallow it whole. “Bloody fucking hell.”
Part 3