Guava 13 Brownie
Author: Casey
Story: Nothing is Ever Easy ‘verse: Post-NIEE
Challenge: Guava 13 (see how they run), FOTD (ruction)
Toppings & Extras: Caramel, Sprinkles, Brownie
Word Count: 5947
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Malcolm tries to deal with a bad situation, with mixed results.
Notes: Need no prior knowledge. Moderate violence and other adult concepts.
Malcolm Rees woke with a start, gulping for air, which only set him coughing as he got too much.
“Quiet down there,” one of the guards snapped as Riley stirred next to him.
Mal muffled his remaining coughs in his shirt, wiping the sweat from his brow at the same time. He tugged his ragged tunic back on over his head, its usefulness as a pillow at an end for another day. Letting out a breath, he stood and stepped around and over his fellow prisoners until he was free of the fifty odd remaining men. Only then did he take a look around and realize it was still night - that sort of soft light that predated dawn.
Glancing up at the guard tower, he set off along the edge of the fence, trailing his fingers along the wooden slats, imagining the stare of the guard on his back as he moved down the length until he reached the portion of the large enclosure that housed the fruit trees. Slipping in among them, he reached the particular one he was looking for and swung himself up onto the first branch, working his way up until his head slipped past the branches and leaves and emerged above it. With a little work, he wedged himself into the branches so he could let go and sit back, supported.
He stayed there as the sun slowly touched the horizon and began to light up the valley where the compound was located. Half dozing, Mal jumped, almost falling out of the tree as a gong sounded back behind him. Without a second’s hesitation, he swiftly descended the tree, dropping from branch to branch with the practice of someone who had spent many hours climbing trees.
Mal landed on the ground, threading back to the fence and coming face to face with his absolute least favorite of all the guards.
“You were supposed to be sleeping,” Ralphie said.
“I woke up, sir,” Mal said and then grunted as Ralphie slammed his fist into Mal’s stomach.
“I don’t stand by your lip, Rees.” The guard reached out and grabbed Mal by the ear and dragged him back towards where the others were now up, getting ready for their meager breakfast before it was time to spend all day in the fields. Ralphie finally let go of him and Mal barely resisted the urge to rub his ear. “Go get in line.”
“Yes, sir,” Mal mumbled, stepping over to Riley’s side.
“Already getting on Ralphie’s bad side this morning?” Riley murmured.
Mal shrugged, watching Ralphie move over to their other guards. “They say anything yet?”
“No. You’re not late, despite the run-in.”
“Lucky me,” Mal said, eyeing the guards as they talked quietly, looking up occasionally to study the prisoners.
A moment later, Riley nudged him. “It’s the boss.”
Mal winced. Just what he needed for an already crappy morning: a visit from good old Victor. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with him. That chore would fall to Colonel Harmen. Although, as he looked around, he realized abruptly he didn’t see Harmen anywhere. “Where’s Harmen?” he asked Riley.
“Haven’t seen him,” his friend answered.
Mal let out a breath, realizing he was now a day closer to being the person dealing with Victor. He sought out Major Jameson with his eyes to see the small man already shaking. So his thought was right, Harmen had vanished sometime in the previous day.
“I give Jameson three weeks,” Riley whispered as Victor let himself in through the gate and came to a stop in front of the gathered men.
“Two and a half, tops,” Mal muttered. “At least Thurnstrom’s got guts and a backbone.”
“Hello, friends,” Victor said. “I have a little announcement this morning, if you would all lend me your ears.”
What little conversation there had been came to a halt as every set of eyes regarded him warily.
“You might remember some friends who came and visited at the end of last summer,” Victor continued and now the shuffling and movement stopped as well as every man froze, even Jameson stopped shaking long enough to regard Victor with wide, horrified eyes. “I’m not sure we told you last summer, because you were still settling in, but this is a yearly tradition here. We’ll be expecting the vast majority in a week or so, to give you time to get the crops in order before there are less of you to keep track. However, we had a couple of early birds show up last night, and I’m not one to keep people waiting.”
Mal, as he scanned his fellow men, watched the expressions of dismay and horror and realized that in a month, probably by the time Jameson buckled under and vanished himself, close to half of his compatriots would be dead. Victor’s ‘friends’ were assorted riffraff and nutcases from around the nearby countries. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. Last year, shortly after their capture and subsequent arrival, they had begun with over one hundred able bodied men and women. Mal didn’t like to think about what had happened to the few women soldiers and at least a third of the men had been killed in ‘accidents’ related to these friends. From what the survivors had said, and looked like, they were beaten, tortured and otherwise abused all in the name of practice for these people’s day jobs. Mal had no desire to be anyone’s whipping boy, but also had the distinct feeling that anyone who had gotten a pass the previous year was destined to end up inside this summer.
When he opened his eyes, Victor had just finished conferring with the guards and now turned to address them again. “I need a volunteer to assist the pair in their endeavors. Any takers?” Victor asked, scanning the crowd of still men. “No? Then I’ll just have to pick one,” he said with a sigh as he let his eyes trail over them, seeing who met his gaze and who looked away. Mal followed his gaze closely and almost immediately realized where he was going. Kyle Marshall was the youngest man there by almost two years, not even eighteen yet. No one quite knew how he had snuck into the army at just sixteen, but his youth was given no quarter here, and he was directly in Victor’s path.
“I’ll do it,” Mal said, stepping forward amid smothered gasps and Riley, who had made a last second grab for his arm to pull him back, but now dropped it as Victor’s gaze shot to them, sharp as steel.
“And who is this?”
“That’s Captain Malcolm Rees, Boss,” Ralphie piped up, looking positively gleeful about the new events.
“Captain Malcolm Rees,” Victor repeated slowly, tasting Mal’s name and holding his gaze. Mal refused to back down and kept his gaze on Victor, figuring he was probably dead within the next few days anyway. “Very well. Rees, you will report to the gate after breakfast,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Mal replied crisply.
Victor turned to Ralphie and the others, said something quietly, to which they nodded, before glancing back. “I expect the rest of you to have the field in good order before the rest of them get here. Or there might be trouble.”
Mal couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at the threat and then took an involuntary half-step backwards as Victor’s gaze shot back to him and Mal knew he had somehow caught it. For a moment, Mal’s breath caught as they stared at each other and then Victor smiled, turned and swept from the enclosure, leaving Mal to sag with relief.
That lasted only a second, though, before Riley had swung him around. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“My time was coming anyway,” Mal said wearily.
“Didn’t mean you had to jump out and cut it short,” Riley griped and Mal could see the worry in his eyes.
“I don’t plan on dying.”
“We don’t plan on a lot of things. Gods’ Breath, Mal, you saw what happened to everyone last summer. Or didn’t, actually, since half of them never came back!”
“Riley, I don’t need a lecture, okay? If it hadn’t been me, it would have been Kyle.”
That gave Riley pause for a moment, but only for a moment. “So you’re going to certain death to be noble?”
“I just said I didn’t need a lecture.”
“Well, no one else here will, so that leaves me,” Riley said grumpily. “If you don’t come back…”
“You’re going to kill me?” Mal asked, amused despite himself.
“Not funny.”
“C-Captain.”
Mal looked up to see that Jameson had approached them. “Yes, sir?”
“I-I appreciate what you d-did,” the major told him, taking his hand and wringing it until Mal could barely bite back a wince.
“Just doing my duty, Major,” Mal said, extracting his hand and resisting the urge to shake it out, something that became easier with each passing day there. He wasn’t sure what else to say, although he wanted to tell the major to pay attention to his own life and he felt a momentary pang of guilt at betting with Riley at how long Jameson might last.
Jameson patted him on the shoulder before moving on to talk to Major Thurnstrom. Mal let out a breath. “You all need to stop looking at me like I’m the dead walking.”
“Sorry to break it to you, Mal, but you are, you moron,” Riley said as they reached the front of the line and got their bowl of porridge each, heading over to their usual spot against the fence to sit and eat it. Thankfully, Riley seemed to have realized that Mal probably couldn’t stand hearing any more of it and made ridiculous small talk about the weather, which almost made Malcolm laugh, if the situation hadn’t been quite so serious.
He dragged it out, but before he was ready, his bowl was empty and he stood. Riley jumped to his feet. “Mal...”
“It’s not like I can get out of it now. And if I try, Victor will probably have Kyle and others all killed just to make a point.”
Riley didn’t say anything more but just pulled Mal into a hug. “Take care of yourself and do try and come back tonight, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Mal promised before moving over to the gate where two of the guards were waiting for him. “I’m ready.”
“Let’s go then,” one said, turning and heading out of the enclosure as the other brought up the rear. Mal kept his chin high and the guards let him until they were out of sight, and then the one behind him stuck out a foot and tripped him. Mal stumbled and went sprawling on the ground, wincing and resting his forehead on the ground for a moment before pushing himself back up, dropping his head now so he was staring at the heels of the guard in front of him. That seemed to appease the guard because they made it up to the compound building without further incident. Mal knew the layout of the first and basement floors of the building fairly well from the previous winter, when they had lived in the cells in the basement and when they had spent various days working in rooms on the first floor, including the armory and some of the smaller rooms, that were usually used, he knew, for exactly the purpose he was now coming, as well as beatings in the winter when someone did something that was against the ever changing rules.
However, he was surprised when the guards led him upstairs and he went so far as to pause at the bottom, not liking this change in what he was expecting. “What’s...” was as far as he got before the guard behind him clouted him in the side of the head, making him see stars.
“Get moving.”
By the time his vision cleared, the guards had manhandled him up half the stairs, ignoring the fact his feet smacked into each step painfully. He shrugged his shoulders, planting his feet on one of the steps to show that he could walk himself again and they let go, leading him the rest of the way up and down the hallway they found themselves in before the one in the lead paused and knocked on a door.
“Come in.”
Mal’s stomach lurched as he recognized the voice but had no chance to do anything but enter as the door swung open and the second guard shoved him inside. “Boss?”
“We’ll be fine alone, thank you. Wait outside and I’ll call you shortly,” Victor said, sitting behind a massive wooden desk, writing something. “Rees, sit.”
Mal stepped forward and gingerly perched on the edge of the large chair in front of the desk, resisting the urge to sink in, since it was by far the most comfortable thing he’d sat on for over a year.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. This will take some time,” Victor said, still without looking up.
“That’s all right, sir,” Mal said. “I’m comfortable as it is.”
Victor looked up and smiled. “You’re a decent liar, Rees. I like that. Sit still and we’ll talk in a minute.” He went back to his writing, leaving Mal to examine the room in the ensuing silence. It was opulent without being over the top. It was darkly paneled with more brightly colored tapestries decorating the walls. As Mal examined one more closely, he realized what it depicted and his stomach turned over again and he wished he hadn’t eaten breakfast as he absorbed the bloody massacre. He knew for a fact that blood was definitely not that bright - he’d shed enough of it in recent months - and the tapestry showed more than just the blood. He tore his eyes away and took the moment to study Victor instead.
The boss of the camp was dark haired with a slight wave and piercing eyes, although Mal, off the top of his head, couldn’t say what color they were. He was slender but his shoulders and arms spoke of a hidden steel and Mal had no desire to personally mess with him, although he was worried that this particular encounter might end in blows. At the same time, though, he doubted that Victor would risk staining the plush carpeting on the ground which Mal gratefully dug his bare feet into. Shoes had been one of the things stripped from them on arrival and the soft carpeting felt like heaven on his battered feet.
Finally, just as Mal was starting to think Victor was doing work just to be perverse, which wouldn’t have surprised him, the man set his quill down and looked straight at him. “It baffles me how I did not know your name until today, considering you crossed my sight that first day.”
Malcolm barely bit back a wince at that, remembering all too clearly their arrival. It was that incident that had earned him Ralphie’s never end animosity, when he’d jumped the guard for going after one of the women, not that it had done them any bit of good and had only gotten Mal the first beating handed out by the guards.
“It is Captain Rees, yes? I don’t see captain stripes on your tunic.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it all. Deny that he was captain and step away from the responsibility that would undoubtedly land on his shoulders should he live out the day and the next day and the next. “Yes, sir,” he said and cursed himself for his honesty, not that anyone out in that enclosure, not to mention most of the guards, wouldn’t have told him the truth. No need to get in more trouble.
“Oh?”
“Field promotions,” Mal said with a shrug. “Nothing spectacular.”
“Except that you’ve survived this long,” Victor said, eyes suddenly sharp again.
“Yes, sir,” he said, deciding the shortest answer was the best until he could figure out what exactly was going on.
“Ralphie had a lot to say about you this morning. As did quite a few of the others.”
“I hope they were good things, sir,” Mal said.
Victor laughed. “Depends on what sort of impression you’ve been attempting to make over the last year, Malcolm. I can call you Malcolm, can’t I?”
“Yes, sir.” What in the name of the gods is going on? Mal wondered.
The boss now leaned forward, arms on his desk as he regarded Mal. “I have not been particularly impressed with your leaders thus far and Jameson seems to be made of an even weaker ilk than the others. However, it appears the real leader has been under my nose the whole time and I never noticed.”
“Me, sir?” he said incredulously.
“Yes, you. You’ve apparently got exactly the kind of skills that I highly value in my own subordinates.”
Mal wasn’t sure he appreciated being compared to any of Victor’s underlings, but he now had a better idea where this conversation was headed. “Thank you, sir?”
“It seems a shame to waste your potential.”
Now he just stared at him, waiting and wondering how much he’d get in trouble if he laughed in Victor’s face and also wondering if maybe it wouldn’t be a smart idea to at least pretend to join him.
“I’m going to offer this to you once and only once, Malcolm, so listen up. This is your only chance to make it out of this alive. You can either join me, right here, right now, or you head back to the pen.”
“Assuming I make it through today alive,” Mal put in.
“Assuming that, yes,” Victor said, nodding his head. “Let me warn you, before you think of double crossing me, that I deal with double crossers even more harshly than I deal with people who do not follow the rules. You will understand pain as you never ever want to, should it come to that.”
He shook his head before Victor even finished. “That’s okay. I’ll take traditional pain, thanks.”
“You refuse?”
“You’re not just sadistic, but nuts if you thought I’d turn on my men,” Mal said, not even realizing he considered them his until after the words were out of his mouth. “Even if I think you’re a bit off on your assessment, I wouldn’t be much of a leader if I was swayed that easily. We’ve been together this long and if we have to go down together, so be it.” Mal stood. “I’m ready to leave.”
Victor eyed him, no expression that Mal could read on his face. “Very well. Collins!”
One of the guards poked his head in. “Yeah, Boss?”
“Malcolm and I are done here. You may take him to Ted and Marie. When they are finished, give him ten lashes at the post by the enclosure.” Victor looked back at him. “That’s five for the eyeroll and five for the cheek. Be glad I’m feeling generous.”
Mal wasn’t sure if that boded well for his continued survival or Victor was just making contingency plans in case he happened to survive. “Yes, sir,” he said instead and allowed himself to be led towards the door.
“Malcolm.”
He glanced back at the sound of Victor’s voice.
“I do not expect to hear your name again, do you get my meaning?”
Mal lifted his chin slightly. “I get it, sir.”
When the guard tugged at his arm, he didn’t move, still holding Victor’s gaze until the guard cuffed him on the side of the head and dragged him from the room. They went back down the stairs to the side rooms on the first floor, where they led him to a small room. The first guard opened the door, letting the second shove him in. Mal quickly took in the room, finding it fairly empty besides a chair in one corner with restraints built into it. On his second look, he realized the walls had various restraints mounted and hanging from them.
“Corner,” one of the guards said and, when Mal didn’t immediately move, grabbed his arm and propelled him in that direction. It took only a minute for them to snap his right wrist into a shackle, just high enough above his head to be more than a little obnoxious. Snickering the two left the room, shutting the door behind them, although he could tell they didn’t bother to latch it. Blinking at the sudden darkness, he sighed and tugged absently at his arm, finding the manacle just tight enough to allow no wiggle room without cutting off his circulation too much. Shifting his weight, Mal leaned back against the wall to wait.
“Today’s just not my day,” Mal muttered as he fidgeted, legs getting tired the longer he waited, eyeing the corner he knew held the chair, even if he couldn’t see it, longingly. Finally, after what seemed like, and could easily have been, hours, the door opened and he blinked, looking away from the bright light for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. By the time they had, three people had entered the room. The taller of the two men, he instantly recognized as one of Victor’s men, one of those in charge of the harsher punishments and those really meant to make a point. The other two he took in curiously. The second man was regarding him in definite interest, head tilted to one side. The sole woman, who had flaming red hair, wore a predatory expression that sent a shiver up his spine. At her sizing him up, Mal automatically tugged at his arm again, the part of him that still had a will to live not liking it. His chain rattled and Victor’s man, whose name was something like Stone, gave him a cursory glance before returning his attention to the man and woman, who had to be Ted and Marie.
“Tell me again what you are hoping to learn and accomplish here, Mr. Clancy.”
Without ever taking his eyes off Mal, Ted shrugged. “It would be most helpful to know the best and easiest ways to break people, considering our line of business.”
He held Ted’s gaze, finding that easier than looking anywhere near Marie, who still looked as if she might go for the throat at any minute.
“Of course,” Stone said, nodding. “Now,” he continued as he moved over, producing a key that Mal appreciated quite a bit at that moment, “the key to breaking someone and dealing with slaves is to cause a lot of pain with minimum physical damage. So that’s what we’re going to practice here.”
“Why not just cause damage? It would teach them,” Marie said.
“It would also potentially permanently damage the goods you’re looking to sell, which would lower the value you’d receive,” Stone said, reaching up and undoing the shackle, freeing Mal’s hand and allowing him to rub it absently as Stone grabbed his shoulder and pushed him forward to stand in front of the pair. “This is Malcolm. He’s here to help us practice.”
“Malcolm what?”
“Excuse me?” Stone asked, blinking at Ted in surprise.
“What’s his last name? What’s your last name?” he said, turning back to Mal.
“Rees, sir. It’s Captain Malcolm Rees, officially.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard.”
“Satisfied?” Stone asked, eyeing them like he expected them to give up on picking on Mal now just because they knew his full name.
“I find that it’s as important to know something about them as it is to hurt them,” Ted said with a wide smile, but nodded his head in acquiescence. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. I don’t mean to interfere, but one of the things I’d like to accomplish here is to integrate what I already know with what I don’t.”
“Of course,” Stone said stiffly. “Shall we move on?” he asked, tightening his grip on Mal’s upper arm.
“Let’s get to the fun part,” Marie agreed, cracking her knuckles and now Mal couldn’t hold in a wince any more.
“Very well. Malcolm, stand here,” Stone ordered, stepping away. “Here’s what you do,” he began.
**
By the time they were done, Mal hurt in places that hadn’t hurt since he’d last play fought with his twin brother, over three years before. Only Mikey had ever managed to hit him in parts that were otherwise impervious to harm. “Let us adjourn to discuss what we’ve covered today and talk more about how to integrate your interests. Mr. Clancy, ma’am?”
Ted clapped Mal on the shoulder, almost knocking him over considering his injuries. “We could use more help tomorrow. Another body to practice on.”
“I can do that, sir,” Mal said, not even sure what possessed him to speak up, but it didn’t appear that Ted and Marie would be killing him and, with a little persuasion, he was sure he could convince Riley to join him, even if he didn’t particularly want to see Riley beat on.
“Can you? That would be wonderful, Malcolm.”
Stone shot him an evil look. “Your escort is waiting just outside the building, Malcolm. It is time for you to leave.”
“Yes, sir,” Mal said, limping out of the room and heading down the hall to the main entrance, where he found his same escort from earlier. The pair looked disappointed that Mal didn’t look more injured but as Stone had explained, facial marks showed that the slave was a fighter and brought down the price. He just hoped they didn’t decide to start poking or prodding him and he was in luck as they merely gestured him back towards the enclosure. Mal stopped at the tall pole just outside and well within sight of the enclosure and glanced back.
The first guard stepped past him and peered through. “They’re all at work.”
“Then there’s no point making a point now,” the second said as both turned in tandem to look at him.
Mal could feel their eyes on him, but kept his directed at the ground, waiting for their verdict. He got it when one shoved him to the pole. “Shirt off.” Tiredly, Mal did as ordered and the other pulled his arms up, locking them into the shackles stretching down from the pole. Mal let out a breath, which caused both men to chuckle. “Enjoy yourself, Rees. We’ll be back with the dinner crew to give you your lashes. Don’t just stand around now.” The two left him there in the bright, boiling sun, walking away laughing.
Mal laid his forehead on the pole. “Totally not my day,” he muttered and just hoped it wouldn’t rain to complete his misery.
**
The next two weeks passed without any grievous incident. Riley saw the wisdom of joining Mal and no one protested when he went over to head inside with him the following morning. In a strange way, Mal didn’t mind the time off from farming - he had grown up on a farm and it was one of the last things he wanted to do with himself once he had escaped it for the army. However, time spent with Stone, Ted and Marie was not exactly fun. Especially when Stone resorted to dropping nasty hints about Mal’s parentage and family after he and Ted had gotten in a minor disagreement over what Ted was going to call him that Mal ended up winning. He was no fan of ‘Malcolm,’ since it had been used for most of his childhood as the beginning of a lecture, but there was no way in hell that he was going to allow a man who spent his free time beating the shit out of him to call him Mal. He was pretty sure Stone was more furious at Ted, and Riley agreed when they discussed it, but to no one’s surprise, he was unable to take it out on Ted, so chose Mal as his victim of choice instead.
It was one of these comments that caused Mal to snap. Stone was in his face, hissing a particularly nasty insult and Mal lost it. They wanted someone to break, didn’t they? Then fine. Without pausing to think it through, and too angry to really care, Mal hauled back his arm and planted his fist right between Stone’s eyes. The man stumbled back, swearing and clutching at his face. Mal didn’t give him time to recover, surging forward and slamming into him as both went tumbling to the ground.
“Mal!” Riley yelped and, out of the corner of his eye, Mal saw Marie grab Riley, most likely in one of her iron grips at the same time that Ted threw out an arm to block him.
“Leave them.”
“What?” Riley squawked but didn’t tear his eyes off Mal and Stone.
Mal absorbed these outside activities absently as he just pounded on Stone, the year of frustration and impotence bubbling over in a moment of raw fury. Stone was screaming for help and Mal kept expecting Ted to drag him off, but no such thing came until the guards - never far - burst through the door, taking in the scene in only a moment before ripping Mal off Stone, despite Mal’s best efforts to keep hitting him. The guard holding him by the back of the neck spun him and slammed him full tilt into the wall. Mal had no warning and his face connected solidly, sending stars bursting through his vision. The guard went to do it again and Mal barely managed to turn his face out of the way as he continued to struggle, despite the reasonable part of him telling him he would be better off surrendering quickly - which would probably result in a dozen or so lashes and reduced rations for a week, rather than whatever they might do to him if he kept it up.
His ears were ringing by the time he was too dazed to keep fighting and slumped limply into the guards arms, although they kept him shoved against the wall. He could vaguely hear conversation and wondered why they hadn’t killed him yet. He could just see Stone out of the corner of his eye and felt intense satisfaction at the fact the man had gone no further than sitting up supported, his face a bloody mess.
Then Victor swept in through the open door. For an instant, Mal debated how someone could sweep wearing nothing more than a tunic and pants, with no cape or other accoutrements before forcing his thoughts into gear, making himself pay attention, even if his hearing was fuzzy.
Victor took in the scene, seeing Malcolm held against the wall by two guards, Stone supported by a third, while two more lurked directly behind him with a few more in the hall. Ted and Marie stood against the far wall, the red-headed woman gripping the other former soldier.
“Collins, take Stone to the infirmary. Logan and Dell, take the other one back out to the pens. Whalen,” he raised his voice and the man stepped forward from outside.
“Boss?”
“Please provide Ted and Marie with an escort to their rooms. Ted, I respectfully ask that the two of you remain there until lunch, which I would be honored if you take with me so we can talk about what just happened and what it might mean for the rest of your time here.”
Ted inclined his head. “With pleasure, Victor,” he said, waiting until Logan and Dell had taken a stunned looking Riley from Marie before following Whalen out of the room. Collins got Stone to his feet and helped him out of the door, leaving Mal, his two guards and Victor alone in the room. For a moment, no one spoke or moved as Victor took measure of Mal, meeting his still furious, if a little out of focus, gaze.
Then, “You may let go of him now.”
“But, Boss!”
“I can take care of myself. You two are dismissed,” Victor said, nodding towards the open door.
The two guards exchanged look before releasing their grips on Mal and slipping past Victor, pulling the door shut behind them. Mal shook himself, turning to face the other man head on. Victor slowly began folding up his sleeves, never removing his gaze from Mal. “I happen to like this shirt, so I will be most displeased if you ruin it.”
“I’m not a fucking five year old,” Mal growled, hands clenched in fists and covered in Stone’s blood.
“But you are a prisoner under my jurisdiction, which makes you even less than a slave,” Victor said flatly. “And you have very heavily stepped outside of your boundaries.”
“He was asking for it,” Mal said dismissively, swiping at the blood dripping from his nose.
“That may or may not be true, but that does not change the fact you broke the rules and therefore must be punished.”
“Should I be honored you’re risking getting your pretty shirt dirty?” Mal asked roughly as Victor finished rolling up his sleeves.
“There are a lot of ways you should feel honored, Malcolm.” He shrugged. “Perhaps this is one of them. Now come here.”
“You don’t honestly think I’m that stupid, do you?” he asked, wondering what in the world he should feel honored about.
“Well, if you insist on making this a standoff, I can call the men back in and have them hold you while I pound on you. Look at it this way, I’m giving you a fair shake and allowing you to hit back.”
“Yeah, after your men just slammed me into the wall repeatedly and I’ve spent the last two weeks getting my ass kicked every day. That’s completely fair.”
Victor raised his fingers to whistle. “I can call them back in. Take what you can get, Malcolm.”
“Fine.” Mal brought his fists up, some of his anger fading and, with it, the adrenaline as well as the fatalistic realization that he was already fighting a losing battle.
Victor smiled and stepped in.
There had never been a chance of it being a fair and balanced battle. In fact, it was more a thrashing than a battle at all. Mal did take consolation out of the fact he had landed a few very solid hits, including one that would almost certainly leave Victor sporting a black eye for a while to come. Finally, Victor had Mal cornered, an arm across his throat, body pressed firmly up against him to keep him from slipping away. Panting hard, Mal scrabbled to get the arm off his throat but made no headway against the less damaged man.
“Here’s the deal,” Victor said calmly, starting to increase pressure, black slipping into the edges of Mal’s vision. “You fought just now with the desperation of a man who wants to be dead. You’ve given up, Malcolm, and that’s just not acceptable.”
There was buzzing in Mal’s ears again and he was vaguely aware that his arms had dropped to his side as he gasped for breath.
“You will survive, no matter your apparently suicidal tendencies, because I want you to end up in charge. Do you understand me, Malcolm?”
How the hell could he still hear Victor? Couldn’t he just fall unconscious already?
“Do you understand? I want a response.”
“Yes,” Mal managed.
“You’ve spent two weeks with people who have practiced breaking you, but I intend to be the one who does so.” The pressure increased until Mal could barely even inhale at all. “I will break you.”
And then the darkness descended and Malcolm drifted away.
Story: Nothing is Ever Easy ‘verse: Post-NIEE
Challenge: Guava 13 (see how they run), FOTD (ruction)
Toppings & Extras: Caramel, Sprinkles, Brownie
Word Count: 5947
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Malcolm tries to deal with a bad situation, with mixed results.
Notes: Need no prior knowledge. Moderate violence and other adult concepts.
Malcolm Rees woke with a start, gulping for air, which only set him coughing as he got too much.
“Quiet down there,” one of the guards snapped as Riley stirred next to him.
Mal muffled his remaining coughs in his shirt, wiping the sweat from his brow at the same time. He tugged his ragged tunic back on over his head, its usefulness as a pillow at an end for another day. Letting out a breath, he stood and stepped around and over his fellow prisoners until he was free of the fifty odd remaining men. Only then did he take a look around and realize it was still night - that sort of soft light that predated dawn.
Glancing up at the guard tower, he set off along the edge of the fence, trailing his fingers along the wooden slats, imagining the stare of the guard on his back as he moved down the length until he reached the portion of the large enclosure that housed the fruit trees. Slipping in among them, he reached the particular one he was looking for and swung himself up onto the first branch, working his way up until his head slipped past the branches and leaves and emerged above it. With a little work, he wedged himself into the branches so he could let go and sit back, supported.
He stayed there as the sun slowly touched the horizon and began to light up the valley where the compound was located. Half dozing, Mal jumped, almost falling out of the tree as a gong sounded back behind him. Without a second’s hesitation, he swiftly descended the tree, dropping from branch to branch with the practice of someone who had spent many hours climbing trees.
Mal landed on the ground, threading back to the fence and coming face to face with his absolute least favorite of all the guards.
“You were supposed to be sleeping,” Ralphie said.
“I woke up, sir,” Mal said and then grunted as Ralphie slammed his fist into Mal’s stomach.
“I don’t stand by your lip, Rees.” The guard reached out and grabbed Mal by the ear and dragged him back towards where the others were now up, getting ready for their meager breakfast before it was time to spend all day in the fields. Ralphie finally let go of him and Mal barely resisted the urge to rub his ear. “Go get in line.”
“Yes, sir,” Mal mumbled, stepping over to Riley’s side.
“Already getting on Ralphie’s bad side this morning?” Riley murmured.
Mal shrugged, watching Ralphie move over to their other guards. “They say anything yet?”
“No. You’re not late, despite the run-in.”
“Lucky me,” Mal said, eyeing the guards as they talked quietly, looking up occasionally to study the prisoners.
A moment later, Riley nudged him. “It’s the boss.”
Mal winced. Just what he needed for an already crappy morning: a visit from good old Victor. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with him. That chore would fall to Colonel Harmen. Although, as he looked around, he realized abruptly he didn’t see Harmen anywhere. “Where’s Harmen?” he asked Riley.
“Haven’t seen him,” his friend answered.
Mal let out a breath, realizing he was now a day closer to being the person dealing with Victor. He sought out Major Jameson with his eyes to see the small man already shaking. So his thought was right, Harmen had vanished sometime in the previous day.
“I give Jameson three weeks,” Riley whispered as Victor let himself in through the gate and came to a stop in front of the gathered men.
“Two and a half, tops,” Mal muttered. “At least Thurnstrom’s got guts and a backbone.”
“Hello, friends,” Victor said. “I have a little announcement this morning, if you would all lend me your ears.”
What little conversation there had been came to a halt as every set of eyes regarded him warily.
“You might remember some friends who came and visited at the end of last summer,” Victor continued and now the shuffling and movement stopped as well as every man froze, even Jameson stopped shaking long enough to regard Victor with wide, horrified eyes. “I’m not sure we told you last summer, because you were still settling in, but this is a yearly tradition here. We’ll be expecting the vast majority in a week or so, to give you time to get the crops in order before there are less of you to keep track. However, we had a couple of early birds show up last night, and I’m not one to keep people waiting.”
Mal, as he scanned his fellow men, watched the expressions of dismay and horror and realized that in a month, probably by the time Jameson buckled under and vanished himself, close to half of his compatriots would be dead. Victor’s ‘friends’ were assorted riffraff and nutcases from around the nearby countries. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. Last year, shortly after their capture and subsequent arrival, they had begun with over one hundred able bodied men and women. Mal didn’t like to think about what had happened to the few women soldiers and at least a third of the men had been killed in ‘accidents’ related to these friends. From what the survivors had said, and looked like, they were beaten, tortured and otherwise abused all in the name of practice for these people’s day jobs. Mal had no desire to be anyone’s whipping boy, but also had the distinct feeling that anyone who had gotten a pass the previous year was destined to end up inside this summer.
When he opened his eyes, Victor had just finished conferring with the guards and now turned to address them again. “I need a volunteer to assist the pair in their endeavors. Any takers?” Victor asked, scanning the crowd of still men. “No? Then I’ll just have to pick one,” he said with a sigh as he let his eyes trail over them, seeing who met his gaze and who looked away. Mal followed his gaze closely and almost immediately realized where he was going. Kyle Marshall was the youngest man there by almost two years, not even eighteen yet. No one quite knew how he had snuck into the army at just sixteen, but his youth was given no quarter here, and he was directly in Victor’s path.
“I’ll do it,” Mal said, stepping forward amid smothered gasps and Riley, who had made a last second grab for his arm to pull him back, but now dropped it as Victor’s gaze shot to them, sharp as steel.
“And who is this?”
“That’s Captain Malcolm Rees, Boss,” Ralphie piped up, looking positively gleeful about the new events.
“Captain Malcolm Rees,” Victor repeated slowly, tasting Mal’s name and holding his gaze. Mal refused to back down and kept his gaze on Victor, figuring he was probably dead within the next few days anyway. “Very well. Rees, you will report to the gate after breakfast,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Mal replied crisply.
Victor turned to Ralphie and the others, said something quietly, to which they nodded, before glancing back. “I expect the rest of you to have the field in good order before the rest of them get here. Or there might be trouble.”
Mal couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at the threat and then took an involuntary half-step backwards as Victor’s gaze shot back to him and Mal knew he had somehow caught it. For a moment, Mal’s breath caught as they stared at each other and then Victor smiled, turned and swept from the enclosure, leaving Mal to sag with relief.
That lasted only a second, though, before Riley had swung him around. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“My time was coming anyway,” Mal said wearily.
“Didn’t mean you had to jump out and cut it short,” Riley griped and Mal could see the worry in his eyes.
“I don’t plan on dying.”
“We don’t plan on a lot of things. Gods’ Breath, Mal, you saw what happened to everyone last summer. Or didn’t, actually, since half of them never came back!”
“Riley, I don’t need a lecture, okay? If it hadn’t been me, it would have been Kyle.”
That gave Riley pause for a moment, but only for a moment. “So you’re going to certain death to be noble?”
“I just said I didn’t need a lecture.”
“Well, no one else here will, so that leaves me,” Riley said grumpily. “If you don’t come back…”
“You’re going to kill me?” Mal asked, amused despite himself.
“Not funny.”
“C-Captain.”
Mal looked up to see that Jameson had approached them. “Yes, sir?”
“I-I appreciate what you d-did,” the major told him, taking his hand and wringing it until Mal could barely bite back a wince.
“Just doing my duty, Major,” Mal said, extracting his hand and resisting the urge to shake it out, something that became easier with each passing day there. He wasn’t sure what else to say, although he wanted to tell the major to pay attention to his own life and he felt a momentary pang of guilt at betting with Riley at how long Jameson might last.
Jameson patted him on the shoulder before moving on to talk to Major Thurnstrom. Mal let out a breath. “You all need to stop looking at me like I’m the dead walking.”
“Sorry to break it to you, Mal, but you are, you moron,” Riley said as they reached the front of the line and got their bowl of porridge each, heading over to their usual spot against the fence to sit and eat it. Thankfully, Riley seemed to have realized that Mal probably couldn’t stand hearing any more of it and made ridiculous small talk about the weather, which almost made Malcolm laugh, if the situation hadn’t been quite so serious.
He dragged it out, but before he was ready, his bowl was empty and he stood. Riley jumped to his feet. “Mal...”
“It’s not like I can get out of it now. And if I try, Victor will probably have Kyle and others all killed just to make a point.”
Riley didn’t say anything more but just pulled Mal into a hug. “Take care of yourself and do try and come back tonight, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Mal promised before moving over to the gate where two of the guards were waiting for him. “I’m ready.”
“Let’s go then,” one said, turning and heading out of the enclosure as the other brought up the rear. Mal kept his chin high and the guards let him until they were out of sight, and then the one behind him stuck out a foot and tripped him. Mal stumbled and went sprawling on the ground, wincing and resting his forehead on the ground for a moment before pushing himself back up, dropping his head now so he was staring at the heels of the guard in front of him. That seemed to appease the guard because they made it up to the compound building without further incident. Mal knew the layout of the first and basement floors of the building fairly well from the previous winter, when they had lived in the cells in the basement and when they had spent various days working in rooms on the first floor, including the armory and some of the smaller rooms, that were usually used, he knew, for exactly the purpose he was now coming, as well as beatings in the winter when someone did something that was against the ever changing rules.
However, he was surprised when the guards led him upstairs and he went so far as to pause at the bottom, not liking this change in what he was expecting. “What’s...” was as far as he got before the guard behind him clouted him in the side of the head, making him see stars.
“Get moving.”
By the time his vision cleared, the guards had manhandled him up half the stairs, ignoring the fact his feet smacked into each step painfully. He shrugged his shoulders, planting his feet on one of the steps to show that he could walk himself again and they let go, leading him the rest of the way up and down the hallway they found themselves in before the one in the lead paused and knocked on a door.
“Come in.”
Mal’s stomach lurched as he recognized the voice but had no chance to do anything but enter as the door swung open and the second guard shoved him inside. “Boss?”
“We’ll be fine alone, thank you. Wait outside and I’ll call you shortly,” Victor said, sitting behind a massive wooden desk, writing something. “Rees, sit.”
Mal stepped forward and gingerly perched on the edge of the large chair in front of the desk, resisting the urge to sink in, since it was by far the most comfortable thing he’d sat on for over a year.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. This will take some time,” Victor said, still without looking up.
“That’s all right, sir,” Mal said. “I’m comfortable as it is.”
Victor looked up and smiled. “You’re a decent liar, Rees. I like that. Sit still and we’ll talk in a minute.” He went back to his writing, leaving Mal to examine the room in the ensuing silence. It was opulent without being over the top. It was darkly paneled with more brightly colored tapestries decorating the walls. As Mal examined one more closely, he realized what it depicted and his stomach turned over again and he wished he hadn’t eaten breakfast as he absorbed the bloody massacre. He knew for a fact that blood was definitely not that bright - he’d shed enough of it in recent months - and the tapestry showed more than just the blood. He tore his eyes away and took the moment to study Victor instead.
The boss of the camp was dark haired with a slight wave and piercing eyes, although Mal, off the top of his head, couldn’t say what color they were. He was slender but his shoulders and arms spoke of a hidden steel and Mal had no desire to personally mess with him, although he was worried that this particular encounter might end in blows. At the same time, though, he doubted that Victor would risk staining the plush carpeting on the ground which Mal gratefully dug his bare feet into. Shoes had been one of the things stripped from them on arrival and the soft carpeting felt like heaven on his battered feet.
Finally, just as Mal was starting to think Victor was doing work just to be perverse, which wouldn’t have surprised him, the man set his quill down and looked straight at him. “It baffles me how I did not know your name until today, considering you crossed my sight that first day.”
Malcolm barely bit back a wince at that, remembering all too clearly their arrival. It was that incident that had earned him Ralphie’s never end animosity, when he’d jumped the guard for going after one of the women, not that it had done them any bit of good and had only gotten Mal the first beating handed out by the guards.
“It is Captain Rees, yes? I don’t see captain stripes on your tunic.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it all. Deny that he was captain and step away from the responsibility that would undoubtedly land on his shoulders should he live out the day and the next day and the next. “Yes, sir,” he said and cursed himself for his honesty, not that anyone out in that enclosure, not to mention most of the guards, wouldn’t have told him the truth. No need to get in more trouble.
“Oh?”
“Field promotions,” Mal said with a shrug. “Nothing spectacular.”
“Except that you’ve survived this long,” Victor said, eyes suddenly sharp again.
“Yes, sir,” he said, deciding the shortest answer was the best until he could figure out what exactly was going on.
“Ralphie had a lot to say about you this morning. As did quite a few of the others.”
“I hope they were good things, sir,” Mal said.
Victor laughed. “Depends on what sort of impression you’ve been attempting to make over the last year, Malcolm. I can call you Malcolm, can’t I?”
“Yes, sir.” What in the name of the gods is going on? Mal wondered.
The boss now leaned forward, arms on his desk as he regarded Mal. “I have not been particularly impressed with your leaders thus far and Jameson seems to be made of an even weaker ilk than the others. However, it appears the real leader has been under my nose the whole time and I never noticed.”
“Me, sir?” he said incredulously.
“Yes, you. You’ve apparently got exactly the kind of skills that I highly value in my own subordinates.”
Mal wasn’t sure he appreciated being compared to any of Victor’s underlings, but he now had a better idea where this conversation was headed. “Thank you, sir?”
“It seems a shame to waste your potential.”
Now he just stared at him, waiting and wondering how much he’d get in trouble if he laughed in Victor’s face and also wondering if maybe it wouldn’t be a smart idea to at least pretend to join him.
“I’m going to offer this to you once and only once, Malcolm, so listen up. This is your only chance to make it out of this alive. You can either join me, right here, right now, or you head back to the pen.”
“Assuming I make it through today alive,” Mal put in.
“Assuming that, yes,” Victor said, nodding his head. “Let me warn you, before you think of double crossing me, that I deal with double crossers even more harshly than I deal with people who do not follow the rules. You will understand pain as you never ever want to, should it come to that.”
He shook his head before Victor even finished. “That’s okay. I’ll take traditional pain, thanks.”
“You refuse?”
“You’re not just sadistic, but nuts if you thought I’d turn on my men,” Mal said, not even realizing he considered them his until after the words were out of his mouth. “Even if I think you’re a bit off on your assessment, I wouldn’t be much of a leader if I was swayed that easily. We’ve been together this long and if we have to go down together, so be it.” Mal stood. “I’m ready to leave.”
Victor eyed him, no expression that Mal could read on his face. “Very well. Collins!”
One of the guards poked his head in. “Yeah, Boss?”
“Malcolm and I are done here. You may take him to Ted and Marie. When they are finished, give him ten lashes at the post by the enclosure.” Victor looked back at him. “That’s five for the eyeroll and five for the cheek. Be glad I’m feeling generous.”
Mal wasn’t sure if that boded well for his continued survival or Victor was just making contingency plans in case he happened to survive. “Yes, sir,” he said instead and allowed himself to be led towards the door.
“Malcolm.”
He glanced back at the sound of Victor’s voice.
“I do not expect to hear your name again, do you get my meaning?”
Mal lifted his chin slightly. “I get it, sir.”
When the guard tugged at his arm, he didn’t move, still holding Victor’s gaze until the guard cuffed him on the side of the head and dragged him from the room. They went back down the stairs to the side rooms on the first floor, where they led him to a small room. The first guard opened the door, letting the second shove him in. Mal quickly took in the room, finding it fairly empty besides a chair in one corner with restraints built into it. On his second look, he realized the walls had various restraints mounted and hanging from them.
“Corner,” one of the guards said and, when Mal didn’t immediately move, grabbed his arm and propelled him in that direction. It took only a minute for them to snap his right wrist into a shackle, just high enough above his head to be more than a little obnoxious. Snickering the two left the room, shutting the door behind them, although he could tell they didn’t bother to latch it. Blinking at the sudden darkness, he sighed and tugged absently at his arm, finding the manacle just tight enough to allow no wiggle room without cutting off his circulation too much. Shifting his weight, Mal leaned back against the wall to wait.
“Today’s just not my day,” Mal muttered as he fidgeted, legs getting tired the longer he waited, eyeing the corner he knew held the chair, even if he couldn’t see it, longingly. Finally, after what seemed like, and could easily have been, hours, the door opened and he blinked, looking away from the bright light for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. By the time they had, three people had entered the room. The taller of the two men, he instantly recognized as one of Victor’s men, one of those in charge of the harsher punishments and those really meant to make a point. The other two he took in curiously. The second man was regarding him in definite interest, head tilted to one side. The sole woman, who had flaming red hair, wore a predatory expression that sent a shiver up his spine. At her sizing him up, Mal automatically tugged at his arm again, the part of him that still had a will to live not liking it. His chain rattled and Victor’s man, whose name was something like Stone, gave him a cursory glance before returning his attention to the man and woman, who had to be Ted and Marie.
“Tell me again what you are hoping to learn and accomplish here, Mr. Clancy.”
Without ever taking his eyes off Mal, Ted shrugged. “It would be most helpful to know the best and easiest ways to break people, considering our line of business.”
He held Ted’s gaze, finding that easier than looking anywhere near Marie, who still looked as if she might go for the throat at any minute.
“Of course,” Stone said, nodding. “Now,” he continued as he moved over, producing a key that Mal appreciated quite a bit at that moment, “the key to breaking someone and dealing with slaves is to cause a lot of pain with minimum physical damage. So that’s what we’re going to practice here.”
“Why not just cause damage? It would teach them,” Marie said.
“It would also potentially permanently damage the goods you’re looking to sell, which would lower the value you’d receive,” Stone said, reaching up and undoing the shackle, freeing Mal’s hand and allowing him to rub it absently as Stone grabbed his shoulder and pushed him forward to stand in front of the pair. “This is Malcolm. He’s here to help us practice.”
“Malcolm what?”
“Excuse me?” Stone asked, blinking at Ted in surprise.
“What’s his last name? What’s your last name?” he said, turning back to Mal.
“Rees, sir. It’s Captain Malcolm Rees, officially.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard.”
“Satisfied?” Stone asked, eyeing them like he expected them to give up on picking on Mal now just because they knew his full name.
“I find that it’s as important to know something about them as it is to hurt them,” Ted said with a wide smile, but nodded his head in acquiescence. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. I don’t mean to interfere, but one of the things I’d like to accomplish here is to integrate what I already know with what I don’t.”
“Of course,” Stone said stiffly. “Shall we move on?” he asked, tightening his grip on Mal’s upper arm.
“Let’s get to the fun part,” Marie agreed, cracking her knuckles and now Mal couldn’t hold in a wince any more.
“Very well. Malcolm, stand here,” Stone ordered, stepping away. “Here’s what you do,” he began.
**
By the time they were done, Mal hurt in places that hadn’t hurt since he’d last play fought with his twin brother, over three years before. Only Mikey had ever managed to hit him in parts that were otherwise impervious to harm. “Let us adjourn to discuss what we’ve covered today and talk more about how to integrate your interests. Mr. Clancy, ma’am?”
Ted clapped Mal on the shoulder, almost knocking him over considering his injuries. “We could use more help tomorrow. Another body to practice on.”
“I can do that, sir,” Mal said, not even sure what possessed him to speak up, but it didn’t appear that Ted and Marie would be killing him and, with a little persuasion, he was sure he could convince Riley to join him, even if he didn’t particularly want to see Riley beat on.
“Can you? That would be wonderful, Malcolm.”
Stone shot him an evil look. “Your escort is waiting just outside the building, Malcolm. It is time for you to leave.”
“Yes, sir,” Mal said, limping out of the room and heading down the hall to the main entrance, where he found his same escort from earlier. The pair looked disappointed that Mal didn’t look more injured but as Stone had explained, facial marks showed that the slave was a fighter and brought down the price. He just hoped they didn’t decide to start poking or prodding him and he was in luck as they merely gestured him back towards the enclosure. Mal stopped at the tall pole just outside and well within sight of the enclosure and glanced back.
The first guard stepped past him and peered through. “They’re all at work.”
“Then there’s no point making a point now,” the second said as both turned in tandem to look at him.
Mal could feel their eyes on him, but kept his directed at the ground, waiting for their verdict. He got it when one shoved him to the pole. “Shirt off.” Tiredly, Mal did as ordered and the other pulled his arms up, locking them into the shackles stretching down from the pole. Mal let out a breath, which caused both men to chuckle. “Enjoy yourself, Rees. We’ll be back with the dinner crew to give you your lashes. Don’t just stand around now.” The two left him there in the bright, boiling sun, walking away laughing.
Mal laid his forehead on the pole. “Totally not my day,” he muttered and just hoped it wouldn’t rain to complete his misery.
**
The next two weeks passed without any grievous incident. Riley saw the wisdom of joining Mal and no one protested when he went over to head inside with him the following morning. In a strange way, Mal didn’t mind the time off from farming - he had grown up on a farm and it was one of the last things he wanted to do with himself once he had escaped it for the army. However, time spent with Stone, Ted and Marie was not exactly fun. Especially when Stone resorted to dropping nasty hints about Mal’s parentage and family after he and Ted had gotten in a minor disagreement over what Ted was going to call him that Mal ended up winning. He was no fan of ‘Malcolm,’ since it had been used for most of his childhood as the beginning of a lecture, but there was no way in hell that he was going to allow a man who spent his free time beating the shit out of him to call him Mal. He was pretty sure Stone was more furious at Ted, and Riley agreed when they discussed it, but to no one’s surprise, he was unable to take it out on Ted, so chose Mal as his victim of choice instead.
It was one of these comments that caused Mal to snap. Stone was in his face, hissing a particularly nasty insult and Mal lost it. They wanted someone to break, didn’t they? Then fine. Without pausing to think it through, and too angry to really care, Mal hauled back his arm and planted his fist right between Stone’s eyes. The man stumbled back, swearing and clutching at his face. Mal didn’t give him time to recover, surging forward and slamming into him as both went tumbling to the ground.
“Mal!” Riley yelped and, out of the corner of his eye, Mal saw Marie grab Riley, most likely in one of her iron grips at the same time that Ted threw out an arm to block him.
“Leave them.”
“What?” Riley squawked but didn’t tear his eyes off Mal and Stone.
Mal absorbed these outside activities absently as he just pounded on Stone, the year of frustration and impotence bubbling over in a moment of raw fury. Stone was screaming for help and Mal kept expecting Ted to drag him off, but no such thing came until the guards - never far - burst through the door, taking in the scene in only a moment before ripping Mal off Stone, despite Mal’s best efforts to keep hitting him. The guard holding him by the back of the neck spun him and slammed him full tilt into the wall. Mal had no warning and his face connected solidly, sending stars bursting through his vision. The guard went to do it again and Mal barely managed to turn his face out of the way as he continued to struggle, despite the reasonable part of him telling him he would be better off surrendering quickly - which would probably result in a dozen or so lashes and reduced rations for a week, rather than whatever they might do to him if he kept it up.
His ears were ringing by the time he was too dazed to keep fighting and slumped limply into the guards arms, although they kept him shoved against the wall. He could vaguely hear conversation and wondered why they hadn’t killed him yet. He could just see Stone out of the corner of his eye and felt intense satisfaction at the fact the man had gone no further than sitting up supported, his face a bloody mess.
Then Victor swept in through the open door. For an instant, Mal debated how someone could sweep wearing nothing more than a tunic and pants, with no cape or other accoutrements before forcing his thoughts into gear, making himself pay attention, even if his hearing was fuzzy.
Victor took in the scene, seeing Malcolm held against the wall by two guards, Stone supported by a third, while two more lurked directly behind him with a few more in the hall. Ted and Marie stood against the far wall, the red-headed woman gripping the other former soldier.
“Collins, take Stone to the infirmary. Logan and Dell, take the other one back out to the pens. Whalen,” he raised his voice and the man stepped forward from outside.
“Boss?”
“Please provide Ted and Marie with an escort to their rooms. Ted, I respectfully ask that the two of you remain there until lunch, which I would be honored if you take with me so we can talk about what just happened and what it might mean for the rest of your time here.”
Ted inclined his head. “With pleasure, Victor,” he said, waiting until Logan and Dell had taken a stunned looking Riley from Marie before following Whalen out of the room. Collins got Stone to his feet and helped him out of the door, leaving Mal, his two guards and Victor alone in the room. For a moment, no one spoke or moved as Victor took measure of Mal, meeting his still furious, if a little out of focus, gaze.
Then, “You may let go of him now.”
“But, Boss!”
“I can take care of myself. You two are dismissed,” Victor said, nodding towards the open door.
The two guards exchanged look before releasing their grips on Mal and slipping past Victor, pulling the door shut behind them. Mal shook himself, turning to face the other man head on. Victor slowly began folding up his sleeves, never removing his gaze from Mal. “I happen to like this shirt, so I will be most displeased if you ruin it.”
“I’m not a fucking five year old,” Mal growled, hands clenched in fists and covered in Stone’s blood.
“But you are a prisoner under my jurisdiction, which makes you even less than a slave,” Victor said flatly. “And you have very heavily stepped outside of your boundaries.”
“He was asking for it,” Mal said dismissively, swiping at the blood dripping from his nose.
“That may or may not be true, but that does not change the fact you broke the rules and therefore must be punished.”
“Should I be honored you’re risking getting your pretty shirt dirty?” Mal asked roughly as Victor finished rolling up his sleeves.
“There are a lot of ways you should feel honored, Malcolm.” He shrugged. “Perhaps this is one of them. Now come here.”
“You don’t honestly think I’m that stupid, do you?” he asked, wondering what in the world he should feel honored about.
“Well, if you insist on making this a standoff, I can call the men back in and have them hold you while I pound on you. Look at it this way, I’m giving you a fair shake and allowing you to hit back.”
“Yeah, after your men just slammed me into the wall repeatedly and I’ve spent the last two weeks getting my ass kicked every day. That’s completely fair.”
Victor raised his fingers to whistle. “I can call them back in. Take what you can get, Malcolm.”
“Fine.” Mal brought his fists up, some of his anger fading and, with it, the adrenaline as well as the fatalistic realization that he was already fighting a losing battle.
Victor smiled and stepped in.
There had never been a chance of it being a fair and balanced battle. In fact, it was more a thrashing than a battle at all. Mal did take consolation out of the fact he had landed a few very solid hits, including one that would almost certainly leave Victor sporting a black eye for a while to come. Finally, Victor had Mal cornered, an arm across his throat, body pressed firmly up against him to keep him from slipping away. Panting hard, Mal scrabbled to get the arm off his throat but made no headway against the less damaged man.
“Here’s the deal,” Victor said calmly, starting to increase pressure, black slipping into the edges of Mal’s vision. “You fought just now with the desperation of a man who wants to be dead. You’ve given up, Malcolm, and that’s just not acceptable.”
There was buzzing in Mal’s ears again and he was vaguely aware that his arms had dropped to his side as he gasped for breath.
“You will survive, no matter your apparently suicidal tendencies, because I want you to end up in charge. Do you understand me, Malcolm?”
How the hell could he still hear Victor? Couldn’t he just fall unconscious already?
“Do you understand? I want a response.”
“Yes,” Mal managed.
“You’ve spent two weeks with people who have practiced breaking you, but I intend to be the one who does so.” The pressure increased until Mal could barely even inhale at all. “I will break you.”
And then the darkness descended and Malcolm drifted away.