revenge. mk I

[453gof_flesh]

Who: Clapet and West
When: this evening, people.
Where: Third floor - between the showers and Clapet's room. Aka: outside West's room.
What: A stabbing.
Warning: A stabbing.

Comments

[major_west]

Patience had paid off, it seemed. West had remained largely quiet since the end of the black out, and he stayed away from making too many overt allusions to revenge. And as Clapet's guard slowly went down again, West simply watched him. He remained patient, observing the man as he settled back into a routine, and saying nothing. He played the part of the model inmate until the moment seemed right.

And when Clapet left the confines of his room to enter the showers, West was ready. He selected a wine bottle that had been left over from one of many gifts he'd received on the Barge, and gave it ten minutes before leaving his room and waiting near the door to the showers. The moment the butcher stepped out, West was going to strike with the bottle, aiming for the head. Hopefully, it would be enough to stun the man long enough for the soldier to shatter the glass and truly get to work.

[453gof_flesh]

Clapet hadn't expected to be hit on the head by anything, to be perfectly honest, and when he was, he brought his hands to the back of his head, a little stunned by the blow. "Merde! What the..." He blindly swung a fist in the direction of his assailant without really looking to see who, or where, they were.

[major_west]

West reared back to avoid the punch, largely thanks to the shoddy aim that went into it. If Clapet had managed to get a good, solid hit on him, it likely would've stunned him. The man was clearly more powerful than he was. He swung the bottle again, harder, aiming to get Clapet across the face this time. There was rage behind his swing, at Clapet for butchering Billy and reminding him of the ravenous monsters he'd left behind, as well as old rage at the thought of his boys, their deaths. How he'd been robbed of his loved ones like this before.

[453gof_flesh]

It was a good hit, and Clapet reeled back just a little, blood dripping onto his hand from his face - possibly from his nose, or somewhere else entirely, and he had to lean forward, planting his hands on his thighs just to get his bearings. He looked up at West, running his sleeve across his face, recognising who it was, if nothing else, "Look... I..." He realised arguing wasn't going to get him far, and he just tried to punch him again.