[Witches' Horses] Swallow's Tail
Title: just your average afternoon riot
'Verse/characters: Swallow's Tail; Petrovich, Helena, Sascha
Prompt: 17D "blood"
Word Count: 595
Notes: dormouse_in_tea suggested the first line of this.
---------
"Wasn't this supposed to be scheduled for next week?"
"Sorry, sir?" Helena said, slipping back into old habits but that was alright, it didn't hurt.
"I thought we'd agreed to schedule only one near-death experience a week!" he fetched up against the wall she was using for cover, banging his back--he'd forgotten that he wasn't wearing armour anymore.
She glanced over, grinned briefly, then eased down for a peek around the wall. "Oh, come on sir, that kid with the sword hardly counted!" Three, she continued in sign language.
"He had a sword! Of course it counts!" He mock glared as he signed an acknowledgement, got his feet up under his center of mass, and leapfrogged over her.
He was pretty sure the chunk of scrap metal that whistled by his head was Sascha's doing, mostly because Helena didn't mass enough to throw something that heavy that fast while still providing cover fire. The metal impacting made a marvelous distraction, bought him a few seconds to find better cover, and he waved a thanks in Mansi behind his back once he settled.
Somebody yelled "Yob' tvoy mat'!"
He was drawing breath to yell back "She wouldn't have you!" when Sascha roared something back in Polotsovy that was probably far, far more insulting. Judging by the outraged noises coming from down the way, at any rate.
"What was that?" he inquired when Sascha himself showed up soon after, a couple of his dreadlocks singed and sporting a neat splash of dried blood up his cheek that probably wasn't his.
"'Y'mother fucks reindeer', roughly," Sascha replied in a cheerful tone. "Resupply?"
"Thunderer, yes, please," he handed over his stockpile of empties, took three fulls in exchange. "Idiots never run out of enthusiasm, I swear. Remember that kid last week with that sword?"
"Didn't we keep the sword? Either that or melted it down and used it to patch that weak spot." Sascha pondered one of the empties, then leaned around the wall and threw it, very hard, ducked back under cover.
Someone yelped.
---
'Huh,' he thought, watching the Captain out of the corner of his eye. 'Man's got a sense of humour. Go figure.'
The Captain glanced back over his shoulder, blinked, then grabbed Sascha's shoulder and yanked them both flat.
Helena very nearly sailed over them, tapped one boot for correction off the wall, and disappeared again.
The Captain sat up, leaned over to yell "Sergeant, remember we can negotiate for surrender with these guys!"
"Yeah, yeah, sir," she yelled back, out of breath, "You never let me have any fun!"
"She do this a lot?" he had to ask as he sat up himself, shoved his dreadlocks back over his shoulder out of the way.
"They stopped detailing her for riot control after she started negotiations one night by breaking the biggest drunk's arm," the captain replied in a philosophical tone, around leaning out to provide covering fire. "Of course, that was the fourth riot in two days and the big guys tended not to take her very seriously until she did something like that."
Something went wheet! past his head. The Captain blinked, scowled. "HEY! NO HOLES IN THE TEREM!"
Sascha wished, briefly if devoutly, for a set of earplugs. "Hey."
"Some asleylop's using a slug-thrower," the Captain explained as someone screamed. "Ah, and there goes his arm. THANKS HELENA!"
"No problem," she said from close range, reached around the wall and dropped something with a ridiculous amount of chrome into the Captain's offered hand. "They say we can leave now."
'Verse/characters: Swallow's Tail; Petrovich, Helena, Sascha
Prompt: 17D "blood"
Word Count: 595
Notes: dormouse_in_tea suggested the first line of this.
---------
"Wasn't this supposed to be scheduled for next week?"
"Sorry, sir?" Helena said, slipping back into old habits but that was alright, it didn't hurt.
"I thought we'd agreed to schedule only one near-death experience a week!" he fetched up against the wall she was using for cover, banging his back--he'd forgotten that he wasn't wearing armour anymore.
She glanced over, grinned briefly, then eased down for a peek around the wall. "Oh, come on sir, that kid with the sword hardly counted!" Three, she continued in sign language.
"He had a sword! Of course it counts!" He mock glared as he signed an acknowledgement, got his feet up under his center of mass, and leapfrogged over her.
He was pretty sure the chunk of scrap metal that whistled by his head was Sascha's doing, mostly because Helena didn't mass enough to throw something that heavy that fast while still providing cover fire. The metal impacting made a marvelous distraction, bought him a few seconds to find better cover, and he waved a thanks in Mansi behind his back once he settled.
Somebody yelled "Yob' tvoy mat'!"
He was drawing breath to yell back "She wouldn't have you!" when Sascha roared something back in Polotsovy that was probably far, far more insulting. Judging by the outraged noises coming from down the way, at any rate.
"What was that?" he inquired when Sascha himself showed up soon after, a couple of his dreadlocks singed and sporting a neat splash of dried blood up his cheek that probably wasn't his.
"'Y'mother fucks reindeer', roughly," Sascha replied in a cheerful tone. "Resupply?"
"Thunderer, yes, please," he handed over his stockpile of empties, took three fulls in exchange. "Idiots never run out of enthusiasm, I swear. Remember that kid last week with that sword?"
"Didn't we keep the sword? Either that or melted it down and used it to patch that weak spot." Sascha pondered one of the empties, then leaned around the wall and threw it, very hard, ducked back under cover.
Someone yelped.
---
'Huh,' he thought, watching the Captain out of the corner of his eye. 'Man's got a sense of humour. Go figure.'
The Captain glanced back over his shoulder, blinked, then grabbed Sascha's shoulder and yanked them both flat.
Helena very nearly sailed over them, tapped one boot for correction off the wall, and disappeared again.
The Captain sat up, leaned over to yell "Sergeant, remember we can negotiate for surrender with these guys!"
"Yeah, yeah, sir," she yelled back, out of breath, "You never let me have any fun!"
"She do this a lot?" he had to ask as he sat up himself, shoved his dreadlocks back over his shoulder out of the way.
"They stopped detailing her for riot control after she started negotiations one night by breaking the biggest drunk's arm," the captain replied in a philosophical tone, around leaning out to provide covering fire. "Of course, that was the fourth riot in two days and the big guys tended not to take her very seriously until she did something like that."
Something went wheet! past his head. The Captain blinked, scowled. "HEY! NO HOLES IN THE TEREM!"
Sascha wished, briefly if devoutly, for a set of earplugs. "Hey."
"Some asleylop's using a slug-thrower," the Captain explained as someone screamed. "Ah, and there goes his arm. THANKS HELENA!"
"No problem," she said from close range, reached around the wall and dropped something with a ridiculous amount of chrome into the Captain's offered hand. "They say we can leave now."