04-08-2019, 09:36 AM
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[justify][span style="width:350px;height:245px;padding-right:17px;overflow:auto;font-size:8pt;line-height:99%;word-spacing:2px;font-family:georgia;text-transform:lowercase;text-align:justify;"]*tw for mentions of blood, violence, & language
「 when mord found his way into the badlands, he never expected there to be any true peace. even in the modern world, a quiet, carefree lifestyle was near impossible to achieve even for the wealthiest, most successful people. no matter how much they tried to convince themselves that the uneventful was the desirable, that the ideal life was one without cares; in the end, humans were made to want change. they craved something to distract themselves from their own inevitable mortality, to avoid going absolutely mad from the thought of an existence without meaning. even if danger meant death, there was always an urge, deep, deep down, for uncertainty. an answer to a question.
however, it was one thing to accept that urge and sate it when neccessary, and another to lose every and all sense of caution and common fucking sense. while mord could admit that he did somewhat enjoy testing morality every now and then, he was not a fan of jumping in head-first without at least having an idea of what that outcome could be; when it concerned himself, anyway. and this time, when he actually didn't mind a little bit of a break, it did.
mord leaned against the back wall as the meeting went on, meticulously scraping off dried bits of blood- not his- that had still clung to his skin and under his nails even after he nearly scrubbed his hands raw. he had always somewhat admired- or rather, enjoyed studying- cat's resilience; when beaten and bloody and half out of their right mind, they still had that determination to never falter. when their friend(?) was severely injured, they wouldn't even allow him to waste the slightest time it would take to put on some fucking gloves. it was stupid, from a medical standpoint, and unnecessary from a punching bag's, but still, mord found it interesting to watch, and admired it, nonetheless.
all that aside, it didn't excuse the fact that this mission was nothing but a bad fucking idea. he held back a cringe when the word ex-military was described, and almost like an alarm switch, the doctor's mind began running. what the hell were those kids thinking? was that god bullshit really going to their head? and, more importantly, what the fuck is next? the man's eyes briefly closed, images of probable, violent outcomes flashing under his aching lids. this was the exactly the kind of shit he had been spending his life trying to avoid. raiders? sure. cannibals? why not. cultists? he would have a hayday. but military was the biggest deal-breaker of them all.
he barely listened to baumann's question, or even the furious bitching of mike that actually just so happened to take the words right out of his head, for once. he didn't care. he was too busy thinking about the next move, and far after that. there was no doubt a bunch of hot-headed thugs would come for them. cat had now given them a reason to. could they hold them off? probably. he didn't have the numbers to know for sure, but, with their wide range of individuals with notably violent skillsets, and the home-field advantage, they could very well hold them off. but, at the same time, there was just something about it that gave him too much fucking doubt.
"Alright, where the fug is Mord?" the man raised his head, slate blue eyes darting up in question to meet cat's searching gaze. great, what did he do now? maybe those god powers included mind-reading after all. "I took a potshot at you. I know, I know. I'm the one that said that shit's not allowed. So if you want, you can even up the score."
oh yeah, that. mord was wondering whether the kid even realized that he had punched him, let alone bring it up. the darkening area around his eye was still working it's way into becoming fifty shades of black and blue, but he could definitely tell by each throb of the swollen flesh that cat got him good. the offer did seem tempting- who wouldn't think so? taking a free shot at the leader was probably someone's wet dream, especially while they were already down. they deserved it, they deserved a lot more than it, and they were gladly accepting it.
however tempting and right it seemed, though, the rat didn't bite. maybe it was because cat had already gotten their fair share of fists today, maybe it was to feel like he was taking the high rode, or maybe his version of evening the score was a bit more permanent; whatever his reason, the man was simply not in the mood. instead, he answered the boss with a nonchalant shrug and shake of his head. "It's fine." they had more important things to deal with, than something as minor as a wild punch in a tense situation. in the end, he supposed, he deserved a lot worse, too. "It better not be because I already got my arse handed to me." mord couldn't resist a smirk at the remark; guess the kid really could read minds, huh.
mord paid slightly better attention to the rest of the meeting than before, although his main focus was still on the problem at hand. combat training was a predictable move, not necessarily a bad one, but it was typical for preparation in violent circumstances. personally? mord wasn't sure how well he fared. he could handle himself pretty well, with the added tricks up his sleeve, but it wouldn't hurt to brush up on things. however, if there was one thing he knew about military, especially the American kind; they liked their guns more than anything, and the last time he checked, fists are about as useful as a screen-door on a submarine compared to bullets. then there was something about a new medic- guess that meant a intellectual blow-fest was on his to-do list now, too- and mentions regarding the new members, but mord was already set on his own plan. he didn't want to go through with it, but he was not going to get killed thanks to a pair of teenagers trying to play war. no, his death would only be through his own doing.
straightening, mord was itching to get out of there as soon as possible. hearing mike offer up his own services made him bite the inside of his cheek impatiently, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. combat training was definitely out of the question now, for him, at least. luckily though, that thick bastard would be too distracted with teaching people to bother him. as soon as cat officially wrapped things up, the man was out of there, barely casting mike a glance as he left. so much for caution. 」[/span]
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[justify][span style="width:350px;height:245px;padding-right:17px;overflow:auto;font-size:8pt;line-height:99%;word-spacing:2px;font-family:georgia;text-transform:lowercase;text-align:justify;"]*tw for mentions of blood, violence, & language
「 when mord found his way into the badlands, he never expected there to be any true peace. even in the modern world, a quiet, carefree lifestyle was near impossible to achieve even for the wealthiest, most successful people. no matter how much they tried to convince themselves that the uneventful was the desirable, that the ideal life was one without cares; in the end, humans were made to want change. they craved something to distract themselves from their own inevitable mortality, to avoid going absolutely mad from the thought of an existence without meaning. even if danger meant death, there was always an urge, deep, deep down, for uncertainty. an answer to a question.
however, it was one thing to accept that urge and sate it when neccessary, and another to lose every and all sense of caution and common fucking sense. while mord could admit that he did somewhat enjoy testing morality every now and then, he was not a fan of jumping in head-first without at least having an idea of what that outcome could be; when it concerned himself, anyway. and this time, when he actually didn't mind a little bit of a break, it did.
mord leaned against the back wall as the meeting went on, meticulously scraping off dried bits of blood- not his- that had still clung to his skin and under his nails even after he nearly scrubbed his hands raw. he had always somewhat admired- or rather, enjoyed studying- cat's resilience; when beaten and bloody and half out of their right mind, they still had that determination to never falter. when their friend(?) was severely injured, they wouldn't even allow him to waste the slightest time it would take to put on some fucking gloves. it was stupid, from a medical standpoint, and unnecessary from a punching bag's, but still, mord found it interesting to watch, and admired it, nonetheless.
all that aside, it didn't excuse the fact that this mission was nothing but a bad fucking idea. he held back a cringe when the word ex-military was described, and almost like an alarm switch, the doctor's mind began running. what the hell were those kids thinking? was that god bullshit really going to their head? and, more importantly, what the fuck is next? the man's eyes briefly closed, images of probable, violent outcomes flashing under his aching lids. this was the exactly the kind of shit he had been spending his life trying to avoid. raiders? sure. cannibals? why not. cultists? he would have a hayday. but military was the biggest deal-breaker of them all.
he barely listened to baumann's question, or even the furious bitching of mike that actually just so happened to take the words right out of his head, for once. he didn't care. he was too busy thinking about the next move, and far after that. there was no doubt a bunch of hot-headed thugs would come for them. cat had now given them a reason to. could they hold them off? probably. he didn't have the numbers to know for sure, but, with their wide range of individuals with notably violent skillsets, and the home-field advantage, they could very well hold them off. but, at the same time, there was just something about it that gave him too much fucking doubt.
"Alright, where the fug is Mord?" the man raised his head, slate blue eyes darting up in question to meet cat's searching gaze. great, what did he do now? maybe those god powers included mind-reading after all. "I took a potshot at you. I know, I know. I'm the one that said that shit's not allowed. So if you want, you can even up the score."
oh yeah, that. mord was wondering whether the kid even realized that he had punched him, let alone bring it up. the darkening area around his eye was still working it's way into becoming fifty shades of black and blue, but he could definitely tell by each throb of the swollen flesh that cat got him good. the offer did seem tempting- who wouldn't think so? taking a free shot at the leader was probably someone's wet dream, especially while they were already down. they deserved it, they deserved a lot more than it, and they were gladly accepting it.
however tempting and right it seemed, though, the rat didn't bite. maybe it was because cat had already gotten their fair share of fists today, maybe it was to feel like he was taking the high rode, or maybe his version of evening the score was a bit more permanent; whatever his reason, the man was simply not in the mood. instead, he answered the boss with a nonchalant shrug and shake of his head. "It's fine." they had more important things to deal with, than something as minor as a wild punch in a tense situation. in the end, he supposed, he deserved a lot worse, too. "It better not be because I already got my arse handed to me." mord couldn't resist a smirk at the remark; guess the kid really could read minds, huh.
mord paid slightly better attention to the rest of the meeting than before, although his main focus was still on the problem at hand. combat training was a predictable move, not necessarily a bad one, but it was typical for preparation in violent circumstances. personally? mord wasn't sure how well he fared. he could handle himself pretty well, with the added tricks up his sleeve, but it wouldn't hurt to brush up on things. however, if there was one thing he knew about military, especially the American kind; they liked their guns more than anything, and the last time he checked, fists are about as useful as a screen-door on a submarine compared to bullets. then there was something about a new medic- guess that meant a intellectual blow-fest was on his to-do list now, too- and mentions regarding the new members, but mord was already set on his own plan. he didn't want to go through with it, but he was not going to get killed thanks to a pair of teenagers trying to play war. no, his death would only be through his own doing.
straightening, mord was itching to get out of there as soon as possible. hearing mike offer up his own services made him bite the inside of his cheek impatiently, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. combat training was definitely out of the question now, for him, at least. luckily though, that thick bastard would be too distracted with teaching people to bother him. as soon as cat officially wrapped things up, the man was out of there, barely casting mike a glance as he left. so much for caution. 」[/span]
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[i]「 The things other people have put into my head do not fit together nicely. 」
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