TLV IC Inbox

[inthebiblicalsense]

[In a very serious, business tone, Abel's answering machine sounds after any attempted calls that aren't responded to right away.]

You've reached Abel. I am not available at the moment, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is urgent, leave the line open.

And if this is Fitz I hope you're having a good day.

Comments

[inthebiblicalsense]

[Abel, a little rattled from getting shot still but coping, is well aware that his description was leaked. Clint was having him followed too, though he's been losing his tail as often as he can.

He's still got his gun, set to stun on his thigh, but he doesn't reach for it just yet. Putting his hand on it was what had gotten him shot in the first place.]

The more unsettling ones, yes. Can I help you?

[anewlanguage]

How old are you, son?

[He stands relaxed in the doorway, taking a step closer but there's nothing aggressive in his stance.]

What year were you born?

[inthebiblicalsense]

[Abel settles his weight onto one foot, arms folding across his chest.]

Twenty-five, and I'm from the twenty-sixth century, the year usually doesn't matter when everyone else is so far behind.

Who are you?

[anewlanguage]

I'm Cain.

You ever hear about the Vietnam War?

[inthebiblicalsense]

[There is the tiniest bit of humor that sneaks into his unease at the name, returning with a rather flat tone.]

Funny, I'm Abel. My Co-pilot's name is Cain too.

[He has to think a little though, eyebrows knitting as he tries to recall exactly what he knew of the war. It was controversial, though which wars weren't? Entirely overshadowed by the great wards of the twentieth century, but he knew some details.]

I've read some, did you fight in it?

[anewlanguage]

[He's close now.]

Ever heard of the head on a stick, Abel?

[inthebiblicalsense]

[His hand goes immediately to his gun as Cain gets closer, he's holding his ground in an attempt to prove he's not going to be intimidated. There is clearly a size difference here though, and he's not about to get attacked without defending himself.]

No. Though I'm sure you're going to tell me.

[anewlanguage]

[He grabs that wrist, pinning it to the gun, preventing it from being pulled. With his other hand he spins Abel onto his stomach, holding him down, preventing him from bucking up to freedom.]

Nah, let's be civil.

[inthebiblicalsense]

[The moment the feels that hand at his wrist, his heart already beating fast, he tries not to panic, though there is definitely fear lacing through the mental shout of John! that he can't help.

His body hits the floor and while he doesn't know this man, there is some familiarity to this situation that really takes him to a place he doesn't want to go. He's trying so hard to not close his eyes, knows what he's going to see if he does, and he isn't going to go quietly, struggling against the other man's hold despite the fact that it's rather useless. He's putting his whole body into it despite the weight of Cain.]

[anewlanguage]

You touch my ship or my people again and I'll put this knife through your neck. You won't fucking die; you'll be alive for everything I do to you after that. You just won't move. A fucking head on a stick.

[he snarls these words to Abel's ear, and there's a knife in his free hand. But he shoves him down and stands up-]

[greatoldjohn]

[ There is someone standing behind him at this point, a rather large blond man who Cain's probably seen around. The shadows are doing strange things behind him that have nothing to do with the flickering lights and his expression is carefully neutral. ]

Thank you for not hurting him.

[ That is definitely not a natural voice. It doesn't sound angry or haughty. Just a little bit tired. ]

Let's not talk torture, though. Torture won't make anything on board better. Also, I'll change that back once you're gone.

[ That being his knife. Because that is... definitely a wooden spoon now. Without question. No knives here. ]

[inthebiblicalsense]

[The warning has him swallowing sharply, trying to get himself to say something, and yet nothing is coming out. His face connects with the floor when Cain shoves him, and he's just about to shakily push himself up, biting his lip hard enough to bleed to keep himself from crying.

And then there's John. He stays on the floor, silent as he tries to mentally talk himself through breathing slowly, lower that heart rate, but he has to blink, and he doesn't want to.]

[anewlanguage]

You know what he did to us?

[Cain keeps the wooden spoon. He can do plenty of damage with just this; maybe not as much as a knife but he's not helpless.]

[greatoldjohn]

[ He can certainly try. The spoon is an attempt at unspoken deescalation, and it is also a warning shot. ]

I'd rather not assume. What did he do, exactly?

[ Abel will have some of the scuffs and bruises and any soreness healed. He'll also get a soft message in his mind- ]

I don't think brute force is the answer here. For everyone's sake, I hope you understand.

[ Out loud- ]

I'm willing to listen. I don't want anyone hurt. That includes the people who live here.

[inthebiblicalsense]

[Abel has no objections, he hadn't wanted violence to begin with, but best laid plans always fell apart, didn't they? Too many high strung, well trained people on board, looking for a reason. He had felt he'd done his best to prevent that until Clint had confronted them with his weapon already drawn.

He sucks in a deep, shaking breath and pushes himself up off the floor, hardly damaged physically, though he appreciates that he can no longer feel the beginnings of the bruising where Cain had held him down. It provides him with just enough mental clarity to speak, and despite the edging panic, his tone is clear, sharp.]

I disabled some of your guns, I stood my ground when I was confronted, and Clint shot first. My associate was far too enthusiastic in suppressing him while I got away, it was a deviation from the plan and one I wish I could have prevented. What ever else you think I might have done is assumption.

[anewlanguage]

[He points with the wooden spoon.]]

He admits it! He sabotaged our ship and now no one on the upper decks can fucking breathe! He thinks because he didn't want to get caught I should cut him some slack? No. You people need to keep to yourselves until we're ready to dump you. Next person to hurt my ship or my people is getting a knife in the spine.

[greatoldjohn]

[ Yeah, he's gonna look at you a little funny, Cain. Cause, uh- ]

He admitted to the guns. The gun thing was done over a period of several days. Why would the breathing problems only start after it was discovered. And when you probably already fixed it? ...and how do the guns have to do with breathing?

[ A breath out. ]

He sabotaged guns because we're going to be meeting with our ship. And half of you call yourselves pirates. That makes sense. It's for the same reason you're threatening him right now.

Making it so people can't breathe on a ship he's currently on when he needs to breath doesn't make a lot of sense. You can see that, right?

[inthebiblicalsense]

[John's logic matches up rather nicely with Abel's, his own expression turning to surprised confusion, but he shouldn't be surprised that he's being blamed for anything else wrong with the vessel.]

If your life support systems are tied into the targeting computers on your canons, I think that perhaps I did you all a favor... That is the stupidest thing I think I have- [He cuts himself off, squeezing his eyes shut to remind himself that he shouldn't be insulting someone who just threatened to torture him after paralyzing him from the neck down. It really doesn't help as the image that features on the back of his eyelids is a smug look, glasses, Cook. Fucking hell.

He opens his eyes almost immediately after and takes a few steps closer to John, giving himself some space from Cain.]

I- I can look into your life support, see if I can find the issue, but the Barge I know doesn't work the same as the equipment brought on board and I know shit about magic.

[anewlanguage]

"The point is this is a ship run by an immortal alien, who the fuck knows if he'd tie the weapons to life support. The point," he snarls in John's direction, "Is you're guests. We rescued you. He repaid us by sabotaging a ship he doesn't know the first thing about. Touch the goddamn ship again and I don't care how many friends you bring in, I will fucking end you."

[greatoldjohn]

He's not intimidated by the language or the vehemence. Instead, he keeps his own tone flat.

"Many of us were content to stay on the island and wait," he says quietly, "and we were taken against our will. I've heard a lot of people talk about the freedom here, but the fact that we weren't given a choice might be why we're a little touchy. Can you accept that?" Beat. "Were you aware of that?"

[inthebiblicalsense]

"I know those guns, and they aren't native to your ship, they were scavenged, I sincerely doubt they were integrated to ship in such a way that an integral system to survival would be retroactively linked through." He bites his tongue on the rest of it, knows that he's buzzing enough that it would be all too easy to escalate again if he argued.

John's reasoning is less aggressive, more reasonable and he really should keep his mouth shut. Yelling at people who had the ability to hold his life in their hands wasn't always courageous but stupid more often than not.

[anewlanguage]

He looks at John. "I get not all of you want to be here. You're going home soon enough, and being tense doesn't excuse breaking our shit."

And then, to Abel:

"We scavenge everything. The ship's alive; she takes on what fits. She's as alien as the Cap'n, and neither of them give two wet shits if we die because they can just bring us back. Life support doesn't work for them like it does for us. And you know what? Clint was right to shoot you over the guns, too. I would've done worse."

[greatoldjohn]

John's going to look at Cain, his expression a little firmer.

"Like how your crew took pieces of the ship that we were on? Broke it apart to scavenge? But we were supposed to be okay with that?" is the answer back. Yeah, your logic's a little fucky, Cain. Guess who started on the breaking shit? Deep sigh. "I don't want to argue about that. The back and forth doesn't solve anything. What I'm going to say is you're talking out your ass about the guns and the breathing: you don't know they're related and the timing doesn't make sense. You're just angry and want someone to blame." A small snort. "Clint shot him: message received. Can we just leave it at that?"

Please don't make him angry again, maybe?

[inthebiblicalsense]

Abel has the capacity to be embarrassed by the mental request, his head dipping just a little. Sometimes it's rather obvious that he's just barely hit twenty-five and has only had a handful of months outside of the service he'd been in since eighteen. Dick measuring was an artform in the Alliance and he's not quite broken the habit obviously.

"I have no intention of retaliating, Clint was doing his duty, as he should."

[anewlanguage]

He watches John, just listening. Cain is no longer incandescent but more simmering.

"I have every right to be angry about him damaging my ship. So I'm glad you won't go after Barton, but I'm going to need to know you understand why you're not going to touch the ship again."