Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nicknames are fickle things, you hope to get a good one but often it's less than ideal. Employee #3281 had hoped for something about his performance or adjectives, he didn't want a last name nickname. He'd even take suit color nicknames.

Fate laughs at silly hopeful humans. They had wandered away from their buddy when something shiny caught their eye. He was only going to be second. It's not like his buddy was going to leave him behind.

Picking up the item his helmet flashes a warning. The lad looks around, getting a bit more frantic seeing nothing until blue goo drips on his shoulder.

“Huh?”

Looking up he spies a broken pipe with a thick slime trail reaching down. Before he could really process what he's looking at the Hydrogere surges from the tight space and onto his head. The panicked shout was swallowed by the jelly slime wrapping around his head. Already tinted vision is lost behind blue, arms floundering to try and orient himself. Slipping on slime the man falls back while clawing at the invasive puddle. The slime slides through his fingers easily and begins squeezing, trying to find a way in. He kicks out as fight takes hold, rolling around desperately.

“No! Get off! Help!” 

He has no idea if anyone can hear him. While one hand pulls at clumps of sludge the other is pressing the walkie button to hopefully catch his buddy's attention. One of the filters gives way under the pressure. He squeaks and blows at the invading goo, the only thing that made sense in the panic. 

The heat from the exhale only brings the sentient Smuckers closer to his face. It's cold and the touch is numbing. He shivers in disgust as it pools under his chin and crawls up his cheeks. Eyes screw shut when investigative intrusions prod his ears and nose. He's going to suffocate if he doesn't do anything.

Unrelenting slime presses at the thin line of his mouth, breaching after he loses feeling. The man rolls to his hands and knees, dragging his helmet over the grated floor. His efforts slowly shave away riced slime to the floor below. 

Hydrogere are oddly sour and feel like aloe jelly to the tongue. Would be a whole lot more interesting if it wasn't threatening his life. He gags around the goo as it pushes past his teeth, choking him completely. 

He can't die like this! 

A cornered animal will use everything at its disposal to fight so use what you got!

The man bites down, shuddering at the mismatched sensations. Air never tasted so sweet as the slime slid away from his mouth. With most of the slime whittled away he manages to get his helmet off. His tormentor flops sadly off of him leaving behind a tingling residue everywhere it touched.

Suddenly aware of the bit inside him he reaches over the railing and retches. A grossed out shudder wracks his form with each hacking cough. Gasping and feeling drained he flings the remaining Hydrogere off the side of the stairs. 

“Evil jello.."

He investigates his helmet, picking off bits from the dislocated filter. It takes a moment to fix and it's swiftly back in place. He hesitates putting it back on but only for a moment.

“Ugh…smells like fake lime..”

The small lad wipes an orange sleeve over his visor and is able to see clearer. Where did his buddy go?

“Blue?”

Ugh my mouth is still numb.

He scrapes his tongue against his teeth while walking where he thought his crewmate went. The lights were dim but he could see well enough. After three empty rooms a sense of unease settles on his shoulders.

“Blue, we should head back.” 

His calls were not returned, echoing back as if to taunt the lone crewmate. Annoyance builds with each step, “If I find more scrap I'm leaving you here!”

Damn how separated did they get? After another empty room the orange clad man kicks the wall in frustration. He's done searching, if Blue wanted to go off on his own then fine!

He turns and stomps back the way he came. Stupid Blue running off. Stupid him for doing the same. Stupid slime that he could still taste darnit! So lost in his thoughts he nearly runs into the other pair, Red and Black. The two stop his train of thought with a hand wave. 

“Oh, sorry. Have you two seen Blue? I got caught by a Slime-did you know they're sour?- anyway he just left me!”

“We haven't seen him-” the two glance at each other briefly, Black turning away, “-sorry Citrus.”

What?

Citrus?

“Huh? Wait what?”

“Oh calm it with the sour expression. We're just zesting.” Red elbows him mockingly as Black breaks out into laughing fits. Embarrassment flames across his cheeks. His nickname is now Citrus, because of mentioning getting slimed…

Maybe he should have let it kill him.

The two giggle and elbow each other to stop laughing. Citrus growls and pushes past. Red calls out after him in a panic, “H-Hey! Wait! We saw a Mimic back that way!” 

He ignores their warning and presses on. He mumbles his best southern curses under his breath, avoiding a spider nest and flashing mine. Once the fire of self righteous fury dies he realizes that he might have gotten himself lost. 

“Uh…oops?”

Licking his lips and looking about he's definitely a bit turned around. What a walk of shame he'll have to take back. Well maybe he can get some scrap first. At least they wouldn’t be able to rib him for the slime encounter if he ends up being the more profitable employee for this trip. The door is open to his left and actually seems untouched. Scanning inside the room lights up with items. 

Oh, nice!

Citrus begins picking through the room, humming to himself. Humming turns to toe tapping while he compares scanned value of items. Finding two keys he starts using them like spoons to play a tune, his humming slowly turns to singing. Lost in his own little world he doesn’t realize he has garnered an audience. Soon pockets are filled with the most valuable scrap and he twirls the keys around a finger. Pleased with his choices the lad straightens up and stretches. His helmet warns him of the time as he turns to go. If he’s quick he’ll get back before the giants come out.

There's someone on the other side.

He flushes in embarrassment being caught singing to himself by Blue. It makes him uneasy to be caught 'slacking', the anxiety makes words bubble out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Oh, sorry. Glad you caught up, I thought you had..." His eyes take in the figure and his voice fades to a whisper, "...abandoned…...me…?”

The suit color isn't right. It's white.

Citrus mind stalls and his hands fall to his side. His heart roars in his ears as the Masked tilts its head. Tiny shaky gasps barely get past his tightened throat. He steps away when it moves forward. A slime was defeatable but Masked are far more difficult. He files through the options till his back meets the wall, terror welling up quickly. The white clad Masked hops and moves towards him with giggles echoing around him. His knees shake and give out, sliding pathetically to the floor. 

“I…I…please ..”

He doesn’t even know what to beg as the Mimic leans down. It tilts its head, humming before reaching out. Citrus whines and presses his head against the wall, anything to escape. A soft clink against his visor makes him flinch.

This is how I die…..

But death never comes, instead hands rest on the side of his helmet as the Masked seems to peer past the tinted glass. He cracks an eye open and isn’t bathed in red, the Masked looked like it was curious about him. Swallowing and blinking away tears he tries to get his breathing under control. His body refused to move, completely frozen under the larger body. 

Clnk

The mask touches his visor again as blackened hands feel along his helmet, gently tracing his throat. Citrus flinches at the contact and coughs, forcing himself to speak.

“Um…you…you won’t hurt me?” His words were so soft, so scared. The Masked jerks back as if burned and shakes its head. It touches his neck again, growing a little frustrated before looking around for something. Being given some space allows Citrus to get his heart out of his throat as the monster fumbles for something. 

The Masked takes his hand, which makes him stiffen up, and deposits the keys into his hand. Citrus tilts his head, not understanding. Another tap to his neck and it jingles the keys. It finally clicks.

“You…want me to sing?” 

The excited rasps and claps reinforced the unspoken answer. Citrus couldn’t help but wonder if the Mimics get bored when not chasing down crewmates. Sitting up to open his chest up a bit and allow him to mentally thumb through go to songs. He readjusts and sighs deeply, placing the keys between his fingers. He taps them a bit before getting the rhythm right. The Masked was enthralled, eyes alight with a dull red. 

On a warm summer's evening

On a train bound for nowhere

I met up with the gambler

Words falter for a moment as a hand rests against his neck. He guesses it liked feeling the vibrations of his voice, he sang deeper than he spoke. Keeping his courage strong the lad continues.

We were both too tired to sleep

So we took turns a-starin'

Out the window at the darkness

The boredom overtook us

And he began to speak

The gentle hand travels down to the zipper and slowly unzips it to his navel. Nervousness chews on his spine but he keeps singing, having to restart a line when his voice cracks. He's not so sure about this but it's been docile so far.

He said, "Son, I've made a life

Out of readin' people's faces

Knowin' what the cards were

By the way they held their eyes

So if you don't mind my sayin'

I can see you're out of aces

For a taste of your whiskey

I'll give you some advice"...

Cold fingers slide under his tank, causing him to choke and bite back a harsh reply. Ice starts to freeze him solid when there’s another head tilt and up goes the tank. His chest scars were suddenly the other’s complete fascination. It traces the faded marks and keeps tilting its head from side to side to understand how such big wounds had come about. 

“A-Ah, Um. Well I had undesired parts and had things adjusted. E-ehe..”

Silence spread for one maybe two heartbeats before a firm hand palms his crotch making him yelp. Shaky hands grasp the offending hand and remove it despite the displeasure that carved itself across the porcelain. He tries to grapple with the right words.

“I…w-well, I mean...take me to dinner first darlin’.”

A loud purr explodes from the other and his face is grabbed. Oh he said something very hot to this critter. The keys fall from his hands as the mask presses against his visor and all but crawls into his lap. Apparently his voice was like catnip and someone might be lovedrunk. He didn’t know to be afraid or flattered. His walkie crackles and startles the Masked back.

“Hey Citrus! You should be back, it’s getting dark and there’s a lot of dogs. Is Blue with you? I see another dot in the room. Stop flirting and get back.”

Snapped out the stupor Citrus flushes bright red, his lower neck dusts pink which gets a curious sound from the Masked. Hands quickly pull the tank down and zips his jacket back up. There’s a low unhappy sound from the other, crossing their arms and practically pouting. Citrus was cautious, it was completely capable of killing him due to this slight. Slowly getting up and scooping up the keys he approaches the Mimic.

“..Hey…uh, White? If you help me get back I’ll sing for you anytime we come back here.”

The gravely purr at granting it a name was overwhelming. White hops up and nods gleefully. It takes his wrist and half drags him back towards the entrance. With a guide the walk back wasn't nearly as scary. Turning a corner he swears their was a flash of yellow but went he twists to look it's gone. Although, he had to admit, it was terrifying when White squared off against a barely visible Bracken. Never once did Citrus think he'd be on the other side of that rage. The bigger monster backs off and after a moment he is back to being guided.

Delivered safely to the double doors Citrus stares in disbelief. White takes his hands and spins the two of them, almost knocking Citrus off his feet. 

“A-ah careful, I might sing well but I got two left feet.”

White hugs him in response, giving him a little headbutt in goodbye. It releases him while bouncing on the heel of its feet. Despite the excited body language they looked upset, man that mask is oddly expressive. Citrus looks at the two keys and rubs them between his fingers before offering one to White. They take it silently, black ooze trickling from an eye hole.

“I’m sorry that I have to go, I can’t survive here long term.” Citrus couldn’t understand why he was apologizing to a monster. A monster he then named. A monster that stared down a fellow for his safety. White turns their head away and huffs. Citrus licks his lips and sighs.

Every gambler knows

That the secret to survivin'

Is knowin' what to throw away

And knowin' what to keep

'Cause every hand's a winner

And every hand's a loser

And the best that you can hope for

Is to die in your sleep

His face is snatched up with a crazy loud purr, right White really likes his voice. Blackened blood oozes up from the excitement they felt which scares Citrus badly.

“E-Easy there.” He breathes as White clinks against his helmet. He is finally released and pushed out through the doors. Shit it’s cold. The sun was almost completely gone. He glances back at White who waves and closes the door.

Alrighty then.

Trudging through the snow he miraculously doesn’t come across any eyeless dogs. He pulls himself onto the grated platform and makes his way to the front. He knocks hard, shivering as the cold had bitten into his bones. It takes a moment, hearing movement on the other side. He looks up at the exterior camera and waves. Soon the door opens up, Red and Black look relieved. 

“Oh thank the stars. Blue…got got. We were sure you were too.” Red confesses, Black nodding. Black seems to look suspiciously at the blackened smears all over him. Red soon notices as well and the two look at each other. Red returns to the terminal and Citrus looks at them in confusion.

“What?”

“You have blood all over you.” Black says tersely. Citrus takes off his helmet and glares, “I survived dealing with a Hydrogere and a Masked. Give me a break.”

A pregnant pause settles as the ship takes off before the two start snickering.

“I forgot you got personal with the living slurpy.” Black howls, holding his sides. Red keeps himself more composed as he works the terminal. Ears become red and he shoves past Black, depositing his scrap down. The quota counter goes over the threshold which gets a surprised sound from Red.

“Damn, zesty.”

Black cracked up even more and Citrus stood there angrily. They had no idea what he had to deal with and here they are taking the piss out of his trauma. The key pressed into his hand as he balls up a fist.

He wanted out.

Blue was cool and kind and it sucked he didn’t make it. Well…maybe he’d see him again.

_-_-_

The other two had fallen asleep quickly but Citrus couldn’t sleep. Flashes of sensations had kept him up, he could hear the soft clink from White any time sleep was so close. Frustrated, he slinks out of bed and heads to the terminal. Tapping a key so it lights up he stares at the last thing that was left up. Red had sent a report about the trip and the Company recommended shuffling Citrus to a new crew that’s been formed. He felt gutted but oddly eased, he had wanted to request a change but wasn’t ready to be dropped like hot shit.

It makes him curious about what Red sent but without Red’s passcode he couldn’t view. Squaring his jaw with resolution he wonders what this new crew will be like. 

_-_-_

“Employee #3281?” Inquired a tall yellow clad man as Citrus finished up scrap drop off. He didn't think he'd be found so fast. Thankfully he had his pack next to him.

“Oh, uh, yeah. The name’s Citrus.” 

The man nods and motions for Citrus to follow. With not much else to do he does. The ship they stop at is fairly large and kind of nice. What is this team about?

“There’s only four of us including you. The Company is looking to average out at six. I go by Captain, you can introduce yourself while I finish up preparations.”

He watches as the other turns away to head back to the depot. Very matter of fact and stiff for a leader. Hopefully the other two aren’t sticks in the mud as well. What he wasn’t ready for was the eccentric purple lad that stood at the terminal. They were typing away, looking over for a moment before doing a double take. Was it the lighting or...

“Newbie!” He gasps and comes over, looking down at the shorter orange crewmate.

“Cute, your eyes are cool.” He says, leaning down and looking from one eye to the other. Both are blue but the iris of the right is misshapen so it looks darker. Citrus did not like someone oogling at them. That’s when he notices the purple lad’s skin was much lighter around his eyes and a few spots around his mouth, oh he must be used to being on the receiving end of this treatment. Doesn’t make it less rude so he pushes his face away, “Hello to you too. I’m Citrus.”

He could almost see stars reflected in the other’s eyes as he whispered, “Cowboy.”

Standing back they clap their hands together, “Hello sir! The name’s Rook! I’m in charge of the terminal. Small and brooding over yonder is Bait. Words aren’t something he likes using.”

Citrus meets the other's eyes for a moment, scruffy brown hair obscures said eyes. He watches a thin tense expression spread over Bait’s face before he breaks eye contact. Something was up with him and Citrus was colored curious. Rook grabs his wrist and pulls him to the terminal. Lots of wrist grabbing lately.

“I’ll help get you in the system.”

They’re odd, both of them, but Citrus likes this more. He hopes he’ll mesh in with this team more.

Chapter Text

Getting reassigned sucked for Ratchet. She loses out on the toys and gadgets she was working on. Putting in all that time and effort only to get reshuffled by an ungrateful captain aggravated her. Plus she has to now reintroduce herself to new crewmates, not many share her experience.

Being tall and trans turned heads. Her strength intimidated most men she dealt with, even those who boasted not to care. She single-handedly installed her last team's teleporter. Got everything hooked up and running perfectly. 

Why they then asked for the reverse one was beyond her but she did it. Someone else could have done it wrong. It nearly got that idiot captain killed last time when he teleported near a mine. His pride was more important than having the crew work well. 

‘Failure of mechanical duties’ the report said. No, he didn't like that the machine he had installed worked as intended. 

So now she trudged past ships on Gordion, a pack of her belongings slung over a shoulder. She was looking for a newer model with a crew the Company called 'experimental’ whatever that meant. 

“Hi! Are you #6522?”

Ratchet stops and looks back, then down. A yellow suited man stares up at her, he's maybe half a head shorter.

“Yes? The name’s Ratchet.”

“Apt name for a mechanic.” He sighs with a contemplative look. Ratchet gets an air of aloofness from him and is not impressed.

“Last crew did weird tool names, it works I guess.” She shrugs and faces him fully, “Guessing you're the captain of my new assignment?”

He nods and motions for her to follow. Clearly she was off by a few ships; this one is certainly bigger. She ducks out of habit into the cabin and spies two small crewmates sitting on floor near the terminal. The green one was letting orange put a few stickers on their helmet. Tired green eyes look up and seem to get a read on her before nudging orange. The other looks up, cloud like hair bounces as they get up.

“Oh! Hi! You must be our newest crewmate! I'm Citrus, all hims please. That's-” He pauses but only for a split second, “-Bait, also him. Star is getting ration supplies, she'll be back soon. Rook's off somewhere and you met Captain already.” 

Ratchet blinks a bit at his southern enthusiasm compared to the nonchalance of Captain. 

“The name's Ratchet, uh all hers here.” She tries to match even a sliver of that energy. Taking in the orange crewmate a bit more she notices a familiar flag sewn onto his suit.

Oh.

“Do you have another one of those?” She asks in a hushed tone. Citrus pauses to process before giving an excited sound. He spins around and goes back to Bait, moving a box into the artificial light. Digging through the lunch box of stickers and other items he produces another trans flag patch.

“I can help put it on while we travel!”

Ratchet nods in appreciation. Footsteps drag her attention away, Captain has returned.

“Let's get you into the system and I'll cut you loose for getting anything we need. We have plenty of credits for it.”

She notes a low growl from Bait at the mention of credits. Why so hostile to that?

She steps past them and enters her information in practiced steps. Once the screen flashes ‘ACCEPTED #6522’ she closes out and goes to the equipment screen. Captain turns and heads out of the ship, probably to collect the last two employees. 

Ugh their equipment is lacking. How much-

6135 credits.

What? W…What?!

The quota is only 847. How the hell did they make that much?

She glances over towards the little green crewmate. His expression is intense but unreadable, looking away after a moment to focus on Citrus. 

Was he the one to bring in that much?

Shaking her head she orders better gear and parts so she can maintain the ship. Once the jingle is heard she heads out to collect everything. Backing away as it takes back off she notices Captain returning with light blue and purple clad employees. It doesn't take a genius to guess Star is the light blue one, the uniform had stars on it. 

The red crewmate turns away to gather everything up when she hears approaching footsteps. They're lighter than Captain's so she glances over to see wild green eyes staring back. 

She jolts with a sound of displeasure which causes the other to giggle. Oh, this one is weird. Straightening up she's is easily over a head taller than them. Rook's jaw opens a little bit and his ears get pink, “G-Giant woman.”

Weird yet oddly cute. Ratchet chuffs and heads back inside. She ignores what's being said in favor of starting to work on the upgrades to their equipment.

It'll take time to get the cameras integrated into the system but for now she got better walkies. She also got material to make shoulder mounts for the straps so the flashlight and walkie are easier to access. 

It's only till the ship shudders with lift off that Ratchet tunes back in to the people around her. Rook was manning the terminal while Captain watched. Star had passed out rations and was back in her bunk, writing something in a journal.

“Oh, I can sew on that patch while you're working.” Citrus had rather silently come over and sat with her. 

“Uh, yeah sure. I'm going to add shoulder mounts to the straps.”

“Oh? What for?”

“So flashlights and walkies can be used hands free.”

She expected that would be boring to the tiny crewmate but Citrus scoots closer. They seem genuinely curious about what she's going to do and starts asking polite questions while he sews the patch onto her straps. Shoulders relax, dropping tension she didn't know she had. 

The mood about the cabin was mixed but certainly not as self righteous as her last crew.

She can handle this.

Chapter Text

The inexperienced certainly have it hard on Rend. Between the cold and more aggressive entities, it's no wonder the captain ordered a strict buddy system. Meaning Bait had to have a partner with him despite some apprehension. 

Even his…luck…with monsters might be tested here. That makes his stomach uneasy.

Bait got Leaf, a less experienced crewmate with a good sense for safe directions. She had never dealt with a hard ranked moon before, this was her first. The darker green crewmate wasn't sure if she'd handle it well. He only hoped that, maybe, this time it wouldn't end poorly.

The ambience of the Manor always made one second guess if you were alone. Creaking wood and crackling fire casting shadows cause far too many jolts of adrenaline to be comfortable. If a crewmate got too cold it was even harder to hear over the body trying to stay warm.

Over all that if one could pick out the louder entities… then it's often too late. 

That's exactly what happened.

They had gotten far, even dropped off a few loads just outside, but the luck ran out. Examining a well lit room and debating which of the two doors to proceed to Bait froze up. A low rhythmic march caught his attention. It was approaching way too fast and his words turned into a choked yelp. He tried to get the words out, he really did.

She just didn't hear him in time. 

He dropped low at the sounds of the entity stomping into the doorway, a Nutcracker. With Leaf facing away from the monster she instinctively turns to face it.

Bait is barely able to get his ears covered, going stock still. The head pops open with a loud clang and Leaf is caught in its sight. She barely managed to readjust her footing, jumping aside before the blast rang out. 

Not fast enough as pellets rip through her upper right arm and send bloodied lime green confetti everywhere. Leaf staggers and grips her bleeding arm before looking down at Bait. He doesn't move, more like couldn't move. It leaves her no choice but to bolt as the wooden menace reloaded. Terror filled screams for a teleport escape echo from the hall once she's out of sight. His walkie merely hums next to his ear, not that it could be heard.

Bait didn't move, he barely breathed as the soldier straightened up in pursuit. It didn't see him as heavy mechanical stomps follow after the fleeing bright green crewmate. Soft breathy whimpers break the silence as the human statue remains fixed. His calves began to burn but he waited and mentally counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

No more movement or screams. Bait risks a peek and slowly relaxes when it's clear he's  alone. Rising to his feet and trying to calm his heart rate, the lone crewmate had to think. It's not safe the way they went, who knows if Leaf will out run it. Nutcrackers are fast and don't drop a pursuit easily. He should follow after his buddy, but without a weapon he couldn't kill it. 

Well…if someone's at the ship they can teleport her out. Right?

The walkie has been oddly quiet for the last twenty minutes or so. Ever since they last deposited a haul at the main entrance. His team was good but never this silent…

Minus just now.

Maybe he got the worst one again, he had missed her radio call. Not that he could have parsed anything out of the static. He really hopes she doesn't blame him. Bait fidgets at his green sleeves idly for a moment before pulling out a piece of paper. They had been keeping track since Bait….gets lost too easily.

Now he's alone and really hoping to not find her dead. He's alone…

Ok..ok ok…we came from here and now…damnit.

The paths before didn't have anywhere else to go. The only door they came across in the last three rooms was locked. Keys weren't easy to come across in this facility. The only one they had found was bartered away with a hoarding bug for the scrap it had. That was only an hour ago, that was a nice moment. Leaf was fascinated by the little critters. 

It couldn't have stayed like that?

Bait presses the palms of his hands into the visor and groans in frustration. He had to follow the direction Leaf went. She's ok, she's ok.

Removing his hands he stares at a piece of bloodied fabric stuck to his glove. Swallowing a lump at the prospect of following after a monster the human peeks into the next hall. Corridor maze, fantastic. The reason he gets so lost in the first place.

Counting turns he comes to an unusual door that is, even stranger, wide open. It's solid metal, something you'd expect on a submarine or spaceship. No blood drops so Leaf didn't go this way. Cables run from it and into the darkness in both directions. The apparatus could be in that direction. Is it worth it?

The lights above flicker dimly as he double checks every hallway. He had hoped Leaf would have looped back around by now. She was better at getting a feel for these crossroads. Bait started to chew at his lip, the sense of loneliness starting to sink in.

Leaf has a knack for this, he was good at finding scrap but she was the one that kept him from needing rescued the last few times. He doesn't like getting attached, with his role in the crew, but…

Sounds of heavy footsteps somewhere behind forces his hand, making Bait charge recklessly ahead. It didn't sound human, mostly angry. He didn't want to have to meet whatever owned those footfalls. He just wants to get off this rock with minimal encounters. 

_-_-_

He learned two things very fast running down the long hallway without looking back.

This area was very cold and the lights were in far worse condition. 

He slowed to a stop after going through two connected rooms. The lights are practically out in this area, barely lit, which makes the sounds so much louder. 

Clicking on his flashlight and scanning the room brought up a door but no scrap. Even with metallic groans the air starts pressing in. Should he keep going?

“Hey..is anyone there? Anyone on the ship?”

The walkie crackled and after a moment of silence he pushed forward. Opening the door he was greeted to blackness. 

Oh..

It feels oppressive and the void spreads from the doorway. It's a warning yet somehow inviting. He finds himself leaning in. A low yellowish glow across the large room grabs his attention like an anglerfish's lure. For a second he swore there was something there past the threshold but scanning brought up nothing. Well if it's the fire exit then score he can reorient himself or check in with others. He clicks on the flashlight and sees it's a catwalk that branches in the middle. One straight ahead and one that looks uninteresting to the left.

He gives the door a double take, he thought he saw movement but dust flashes similarly in the flashlight beam. Being alone makes him paranoid, like something was just there waiting to grab him. Licking dried lips and steeling his nerves, the little human makes his way confidently across the groaning metal. He jumps when a grate gives way a little, causing him to jog across in case it gives way entirely. These buildings are so old.

The room was small and broken up into two sections by racks. He wanders over to the first rack and rummages through the abandoned boxes and scrap. Only a laser pointer caught his attention and got pocketed while idle eyes looked at faded paper. 

“This is…illegible, wonderful.” 

Bait was actually a bit interested in the history of some of the places they visited. Why abandoned and now infested with aggressive monsters? Also why with this weird bunker area?

The lights flicker on for a moment before taking the rooms back into muddled darkness. He looks up at the bulb and bites the corner of his lip. It's as if the facility was trying to push him out the door. Good crewmates search every room possible though.

The fire escape is right there so he could see if the other room has anything. More scrap means getting out of here faster. What could go wrong?

Backtracking to the offshoot he tries the knob and is pleasantly surprised when the door opens. He lets the door close as he clicks on the flashlight, seeing glistening blood.

What…?

When did it become so hard to breathe? He shook tensely and unclips the flashlight, sweeping the light across the floor. No sign of fabric but plenty of meat. His vision fogs from his shallow rapid breathing. His knees feel weak.

Not Leaf…not Leaf..

The filters miraculously keep whatever smell is in the room out but he doesn't want to stay and test it. If there's scrap it's not worth it. A muffled sound from behind doesn't break through the pressure around his head. The flashlight flickered as the charge got low. That snaps him out of it just enough.

“Shit..” 

Trying to save battery Bait turns it off and looks up. When did he end up on the floor? It's a struggle to his feet with shaky knees, he has to not think about it. Just get out, nothing is in this room. Taking a shuddering inhale while turning his back to the bloodbath, Bait lifts his gaze to the door.

Only to see two white pinpricks peeking at him from the ajar door. His breath hitched as his mind went blank, feet freezing in mid step. His body almost felt as if turned to stone. Bait nearly chokes on his heart. He didn't hear it. How did he miss it?!

No.. no no…

Claws click on the pane before slowly raking down with the horrifying sound of cutting glass. It causes hairs to stand on end on the trapped crewmate. The glow of the eyes threatens to ensnare Bait. The thought of getting caught in this room almost sends him spiraling.

He forces himself to look away and hopes it backs off enough for him to run. Not today, not this trip.

He risks a glance after a few deafening heartbeats. The eyes are gone, but he knows they're never far.  The air feels too thick to get back into his lungs as the room blurs around him. 

He has to move, lingering invites another staring contest. Gripping the handle like he's going to dent it, Bait rips open the door and jogs to the split. He had to know where it had gone first but it's so dark. 

The rustling of leaves sends ice down his spine. The room seems to only amplify the sound. An urge to shut down claws at the back of his mind but he stubbornly shakes it.

Where…?

A loud clang comes at him from the right, only giving the little human a split second to move. His startled yelp proceeds rapid footsteps as Bait runs away towards the fire exit. The Bracken growls and charges after him. He slams the door shut and backs away from the impact it makes. There's another loud slam and shrieking of metal as the monster rips into the door. 

Sliding on papers as he's scrambling back, Bait has forgotten about the racks and slams into the second one hard. The contact with his head to the metal stuns him. For being completely dark the room spun. One last growl and wretched scream of metal and the old door must be demolished. Time seems to slow as Bait shakes his head and takes one step towards the door. 

It's so close.

The door? 

The Bracken? 

Yes.

A large hand snatches his head and drags him backwards. 

“No! Let me go!” Hands try to pull away the stronger appendage. In a quick thought Bait drops like dead weight, he gives a pained whine as a claw rakes the back of his neck. 

It doesn't get him out of the problem though as the Bracken stares down at him. If anything it might be worse. Weight falls on to his chest and a static like numbness paralyzes the little human's limbs. It gets hard to focus on anything but those eyes.

The Bracken leans down to examine its little crewmate. Chittering clicks press at his ears while claws press his body into the canister on his back. 

“Ow! Shit!” 

The shock of pain forced him to flail, grabbing at the near immobile beast. A growl slows his efforts of escape as the hand tightens around his frame. The fabric gives and blood wells up from each claw tip. A barely audible whine slips past dry lips, he's trapped and alone. 

Would he be in this situation if they hadn't been separated? 

The Bracken chuffs when the little crewmate stops fighting, leaning even closer and breathing over the helmet. Teeth nibble at the filters and tubes, a small hiss from a puncture has Bait jerking away. Pleased sounds reverberate from it, feeling the smaller body jolt under its grasp. It moves away from the hard plastic and grazes fangs over the green fabric before biting into a leather strap and hoisting Bait off the floor. A single spark lights up the Bracken's face as its teeth crush the walkie, the zap doesn't seem to affect it at all.

Bait felt like a toy, being effortlessly manhandled as if he weighed nothing. He grips the strap hoping it doesn't break and kicks out. His boots don't make any contact with each blind strike.

“W-wait! Let me go! I'm so close to l-leaving! Please!”

Satisfied with its prize it started moving towards the catwalks, heading back into the facility. Said caught prize started really panicking, he just wanted to leave! 

One fist makes contact with the Bracken's face and forces it to let go. Falling less than graciously, Bait couldn't get far as pain sent him stumbling back from a strong claw swipe. One sharp hiss was the only warning he got as the monster grabs him around the middle and continues its trek. He's not getting away from the bigger predator.

He watched the yellow light fade and couldn't help the frustrated tears. The halls blur with a distinct sound of leaves. He just vaguely knows they're still in the bunker area.

Midwalk the air stiffens with a metallic groan as the facility shudders and the lights die, plunging everything into true darkness.

Did Leaf get out?

Dread nestles into his stomach as he is placed on the ground. It's so dark, which doesn't help his heart rate. Curling into himself it takes a few rapid beats to brave peeking past his hands. Eyes circle him, he wonders if it's waiting for its prey to try fighting again. Unsticking his dry tongue Bait slowly pushes himself up onto his knees, losing track of the Bracken as it blinks. Feeling smaller than before he whips his head around just trying to find it. The sound is everywhere and yet nowhere.

“Wh-fuck!”

Teeth clamp down on his left shoulder and knock him forward from the sheer force. His arms buckle from the pain as they instinctively brace against the fall, knees digging painfully into the cold floor. Tears run free with a choked scream, it always hurts. Why the shoulder, why so violently?

The Bracken presses in on him, growling around the fresh wound. Ferns flutter softly as the beast releases its little snack, licking the blood that wells up. Electric shivers of disgust tickle the back of his neck. A hand grabs his upper thigh and flips him over effortlessly. Claws tear through fabric and leave rivlets of oozing blood.

“Aah!” 

Bait hisses in pain and kicks out to try and get some breathing room. He feels so small, so weak. He just wanted to be a good teammate…why does this always seem to happen?

‘Grrr…’

Eyes stare through the glass of his visor and strike him motionless. He hates the eyes, soulless yet mesmerizing. Even when the Bracken shifts position he is left dazed long enough for his belt to be shredded. It's enough to break the spell.

“No! Please I'll f-freeze!”

Human concerns meant little to the monster above. It just tugs at his waistband, threads snapping before smaller hands grab hold.

“Ok…ok…”

The hand retreats, a small relief but now he has to do it himself. Shame sears across Bait's face as he shakily pulls down his pants. If it saves his clothes from being torn to shreds he'll do so. He bites his tongue to keep from making too much noise from the pain of fabric dragging over the fresh wounds.

The excitable sounds from above make him crave becoming a part of the floor. To just disappear into nothingness. He knows what will happen next. The pleading words just spill out anyways, he can't help it, “Please..just..let me g-ah!”

The Bracken grabs hold of the loosened pants and swiftly removes them. They disappear into the darkness and leave Bait shivering. Shame and the cold have him curling in onto himself. Ambient heat is his only clue to how close the monster really is to him.

Something drips onto his abdomen, making him squirm till a large hand hooks under his right knee. Heat on his hips coaxes out an unwilling moan as a long tongue explores new skin. Blood is licked away before trailing down his thigh. The dexterous appendage circles his rapidly hardened shaft, earning more sounds. Betrayed by his body at the friction being given. His face was as red as the Bracken's skin at this point.

The large monster shifts closer and curls its tongue around the base, eager to hear what other sounds he can make. Moans and whines are pulled from the human with the building attention his member is getting. Lulled briefly by good feelings, Bait jumps and yelps when claws dig into his thighs. Muscles tense and bear the pain from sharp tips but his legs are soon forced apart. 

“Hhh…hhhaa, please stop…”

Words melt into whines of pained pleasure as the warm tongue laps at the fresh wounds. The tongue snakes back between his legs and teases his sack. Then it happens, a curious lick on a round cheek. An involuntary kick only makes the beast growl and push his knees to his chest. 

“Hhhhaa..” Breathing gets harder and his back is on fire being pressed into the canister.

His hole now laid bare to his captor earns a low rumble as thick saliva drips over his lower half. The tongue presses against his hole and licks all the way to his tip. He's teased by that damned tongue swirling around the tight ring, making him squirm. Any further struggle is frozen as the slick muscle plunges deep inside.

“Shi-aah, no!”

It's so warm, how is it so warm? The little human balls his hands into fists against his visor as more heat pushes in deeper. The sounds of vibrating ferns mix with his moans and broken pleas. His insides are slowly mapped out by the devilish appendage, rolling and twisting with every new sound. When it finds that little bundle that makes him cry out he is pretzeled further by the excited entity. The feeling of his weak spot being bullied by that tongue had Bait gasping between cries that were morphing into screams. Just when he felt like he might burst the tongue retreats with a last wet lick over the quivering bud. Heavy panting comes from both bodies entangled.

So cold.

The grasp under his knees is eased slightly so his hips rest against the Bracken’s stomach. Panic sparks as a heavy, throbbing thing prods up against his back. Fight returns and he twists in the tight grip. He manages to get his legs free, earning a low grunt. There's a moment of silence from above as he crouches to try and get away. 

Arms slam down on either side of his head as legs press in at his knees. Terror clots his thoughts as the crewmate sinks down to his chest and covers his head, whimpering and hoping not to be hurt. Movement goes unnoticed till his hips are lifted in one hand. The Bracken is undeterred by his outburst and ruts against his slick backside.

“N-no…please stop..” His words beg but there's little emotion in them. Bait feels distant and heavy at the same time.

With the fighting fire snuffed out, the Bracken presses its other hand against the back of his helmet. It pins him in place as a pointed tip taps against his cheek. The small body beneath takes a shaky breath and tries not to tense up as the tip slides in.

Even if he had tensed up, it wouldn't have stopped it. With a firm but slow thrust forward the head pops neatly past the ring of muscle. Barely discernible curses bubble from Bait as tears pool under his chin. It's already so much, so warm and it keeps inching further in. Shaky hands reach out hopelessly to grab anything to brace himself.

“Fffuuu-gck…” His words are cut off as the hand holding his head shifts to his throat. Each shallow thrust buries the large shaft deeper and deeper until hips meet ass. Satisfied chirps and grunts come from the entity as it relishes bottoming out. It leans down to nibble at his helmet and purr. The moment to adjust is short lived for the little crewmate. Pulling out to just the elongated tip left a sensation of emptiness that is quickly filled with deep thrust. It forces out a cry of pain that ends in a breathy whine.

Gentle pacing is not something Brackens seem to know so Bait is railed into the floor, knees aching against cold metal. Gloved fingers claw uselessly against the floor, unable to pull himself forward to get even temporary relief. Hands release his throat and hook onto his thighs lifting him up into each heavy thrust.

“O-oh..aah! T-too deep!” 

His bitten shoulder flares up in pain as he rests on his elbows, hands clutching the sides of his head. Wetness streaks down his cheeks and pools under his chin from tears.

It's so much! So hot! 

The cold skin makes his abused insides feel like he's getting fucked by fire. 

Low growls and breathy chuffs fan hot air across the back of his neck. He slams his fists down and cries out loudly when a shift of his lower half makes stars explode in the dark. Much to his dismay it's starting to feel good. Biting cold was getting chased away as the heat radiated through him. The monster seems spurred by the delightful sounds now coming from him, rolling each thrust at the same angle. Pain is swallowed by the overwhelming pleasure and tightening coil. Bait tries to fight it off, he does not want to succumb to the building waves.

“N-no nono, fffuck..p..please..”

Conflicted shame dusts his tear stained cheeks with each haphazard thrust before a hitched scream is dragged out him. Bait's whole body tenses, legs quivering, as he cums down his stomach. The Bracken nuzzles against the right side of his head, purring loudly as it enjoys the sounds. Its pace was beginning to get sloppy, claws digging into soft flesh. Choked gasps and dazed stars get cut short as his shoulder is ensnared in a rough bite. A matching set.

“Fuck! F-ck!” Air is forced out as heavy weight presses him down. The thrusts are even more mismatched and he feels it's knot swelling. Trapped in teeth and pinned, Bait can only wriggle against the larger body.

It's going to get that inside him. 

A muffled growl bubbles past blood and saliva as the knot stops it from bottoming out. Heavier thrusts threaten it slipping inside.

“W-wait! Stop, it's too m..much!”

Again his concerns are ignored by the monster chasing its own end. It pulls out to just the tip and slams in with an audible pop. Hips meet ass once more with a rumbling snarl above. Bait screams, he feels so full, so sore. 

Heat blooms deep in his guts as white coats his walls. His shoulder is released, the Bracken licking both bites as it rocks it's hips. Spreading heat left him feeling a bit sloshy. It's almost enough to forget the dull pulsing pain. Almost.

“Hah..haahnn..” Having a moment to calm down the human whimpers as something new slips inside him. The egg feels large and solid, settling in his guts. Soon another pushes inside, then another and another and another. 

Muffled sobs break the deafening silence along with the occasional frustrated snarl. Even with a few he was already uncomfortable and wanting to escape. Being unable to see his stomach grow did nothing to stop his mind from making it worse. Would he be able to get out on his own? Would his crew teleport him out? He despises the idea of them seeing him in this state.

His insides shift uncomfortably with each new egg, losing count after ten. The Bracken seems very satisfied with itself, licking at the wounds it left its little crewmate. Finally the last egg slips in and Bait is released from the tie. His body slumps onto his side, not wanting to work despite the cold floor. 

Sleep whispers in the corners of his mind as he feels a large presence curling around him. He can't sleep, he can't let exhaustion win. Deep rhythmic breathing brushes against his back as the Bracken drifts off. Somehow it doesn't grab him close, which he counts as a small win.

Holding his breath to further resist sleep, Bait slowly pushes himself up, avoiding touching anything. He half drags himself away from the breathing, sucking in a shuddering gasp from pain. Moving hurts. Fresh wounds ache, he can't even sit and just leans on a hip trying to see his discarded clothes. 

It's pitch dark and risky to bring in light but he has to escape. He'd never make it to the ship without pants. Clicking on the flashlight for a second reveals his pants under the Bracken's hoof. Blinking the seared image away he crawls over to them.

“Hnnn…” 

He lightly tugs on the fabric to gauge how difficult it'll be freeing them. They barely budge, it's going to be slow. Every second tug Bait goes still and listens for any change in the low snores. With no change or shift in the beast he continues. Progress is painstakingly slow but after a few minutes the clothes are free. Relief washes over his chilled form as he slowly gets them back on. It hurts so much more to get his underwear over even more deep scratches. Biting his tongue pulled his focus away from that pain.

Reclothed Bait gets to his feet, something his everything hates. Squeezing his eyes shut to filter through the pain enough to think he flashes the light again. 

It's a straight shot to the door.

If he's quiet he can at least get out of the room. His hope diminishes a bit when lightning fires up his nerves from a single step, he bites his tongue again to keep the yelp down. It's tempting to just wait and hope. He'd be leaving himself at the Bracken's will if he did that and that spurs each step towards freedom. 

Slipping silently through and closing the door, Bait leans heavily on the wall. He is acutely aware of all his injuries as they ache and demand him to stop moving. Licking his lips and tasting salt makes him give a low angry whine. His shoulders tense and arms shake with mixed emotions, tears prick at the corners of his eyes. A scream wells up and he can't let it out or he'd wake up the whole area.

He had avoided monsters for the last two trips and hoped that whatever was going on had stopped. How foolish to think that he thought bitterly. Bait pushes off the wall and slowly follows it to the open door across the way. Clicking on the flashlight to orient himself a bit he sees the long hallway from left to right. Seems that he missed these offshoots earlier. Well means getting to the door is easier. Turning it off he reaches up to the walkie.

“Hel-!!”

He stares through space as there's a soft crunch and it crumbles in his hand. It was utterly broken, he was on his own. A few tears roll down his face as panic bubbles up from his stomach. Damnit, damnit, damnit! 

He's alone.

Truly.

_-_-_

The hallway didn't feel so long when he was running but now needing to stop every so often?

Torturously long.

“Fuck…”

He puts a hand on his knee and takes deep breaths after the eggs shift inside. Once the nausea passes Bait straightens up and listens. It's quiet but for how long he didn't know. If he takes too long he'll be hunted down again. He really doesn't want to know what would happen then.

He covers more ground until the wall disappears and he stumbles against a guard rail. Clicking on the dying light he sees he is back at the catwalks. Excited relief revitalizes his tired limbs as he half jogs to the fire exit room. The nausea returns after he has to pick his way around the demolished door. 

The fire exit is so close, but he needs a second or he'll get sick. Unable to fully stop he leans on the rack and inches closer to freedom. 

‘Goooaaaarrrrrgh!’

Looks like his warden woke up alone. Swallowing down both terror and bile, Bait pushes off the rack and slams his body against the door. He falls through the threshold into the frigid outside. The door closes behind him with a near silent click, locking the horrors away. Well at least the inside horrors. Bait stares into the snow for a moment before slowly sitting up. He doesn't notice the cold yet as he looks around.

“I…I'm out..”

Holding his shoulders and getting to his feet he looks up at the low glow of the lamps. He can get back now.

Trudging through knee high snow already so exhausted left Bait beyond tired. He had to stop under a lamp and leaned against it to rest just for a moment. When logic snaps him out of the choice the poor thing has to peel himself from the lamp. Blood froze immediately on the post and reminded Bait what will happen if he does that again. 

Shivering hard and getting to the last lamp he can see the ship barely through the snow. Instinct has him drop into a crouch as an Eyeless dog trudges past between him and the ship. Counting his breathing he waits to see if another shows up while nausea ebs from the sudden movement. When nothing shows itself he slowly makes his way towards the ship again. 

He fights the urge to run as footfalls circle back. Bait could only manage a few running steps but if he mistimed it? Dread dances up his cold spine at the thought.

Feeling along the ground for something his fingers find a rock. Taking a firm hold he looks around for a tree out of the way. The dog gets closer, loud chuffs getting louder. Bait pauses and chucks the rock at a tree just at the edge of his vision. There's a loud crack as it smacks against frozen bark. The dog roars and charges at the sound. 

Getting the much needed distance Bait gets up and runs. Three steps and the dog locks onto him. He grabs the railing and hauls himself up while skipping most steps. The eyeless beast slides past the ship where he had been mere seconds before. The door opens behind, hands grabbing hold and pulling him inside. 

He is released before he can react and the door closes. Citrus stares at him for a moment before hugging him tightly. 

“You're alive!”

Bait stiffens up at the contact and struggles not to instinctively strike out at the orange crewmate. It takes…every ounce of remaining will power not to hurt him. Citrus seems to remember his aversion to touch and jumps back after a moment, “Sorry, sorry.”

Bait pat's his shoulder shakily and looks around the ship. Leaf was on her bunk and turned away from them. Two crewmates were at the terminal, Rook and Captain. The shorter purple man notices the soggy cat of a man that was dragged in first.

“Oh, awesome you're back. Didn't know what happened after Leaf came back alone. Couldn't find you after a while.” He looks back at the terminal for a moment before leaving it. The taller yellow suited captain doesn't acknowledge him, too engrossed by what he's doing. 

Rook returns with a first aid kit and passes it to Citrus. He coaxes Bait to his bunk to assist with the wounds. 

“Ratchet will be back soon, she went for the apparatus I think. Maybe something else big.” Citrus says softly to distract Bait's mind. He gets a low noncommittal grunt and a small touch to his arm, giving permission to help. Captain pauses and glances at the two, eyeing Bait. The green crewmate was glad he had his helmet on so his livid scowl didn't immediately combust the other. He hisses softly as Citrus moves his straps to look closer at the bites. Bait unbuckles the canister and moves it a little out of the way. He then half unzips his jacket and allows Citrus to have a better look. His friend keeps him shielded from wandering eyes. The crew sits in silence minus a few hisses and mumbled apologies. 

Heavy steps outside after ten minutes catch everyone's attention. A strong knock makes the tension fade, it's Ratchet. Rook moves first and hops over Leaf's discarded boots. He seems far too giddy for having two injured crewmates.

“Big Lady's back!” 

He opens the door to a single red suited crewmate. Said crewmate had the apparatus under one arm and a blood covered hazard sign in the other. Ratchet ducks a bit to avoid the door and drops her weapon before securing the scrap next to a bloody axel. She looks over at the pair of small crewmates and gives a single nod. Rook closes the door and skips over to get the ship off the ground. 

Grumbling shakes the cabin as the thrusters engage and the ship ascends. One by one each crewmate removes their helmet after the cabin pressurizes. Bait hesitates removing his, only relenting after Citrus removes the tank.

“This tube has a hole in it…” 

Anxiety swells in his stomach, waiting for the question but it never comes. Citrus simply walks to the charge station and wraps the hole with duct tape. Being left be was comforting yet unwanted so Bait busies himself with his helmet.

Releasing the catch Bait removes his helmet and drops it on his bunk. The tinted glass reflects a tear stained face with tired eyes framed by messy brown hair.

No.

He swiftly stands and goes to wash his face and get water, pausing as the movement makes his head spin. Right, right stomach. His pause catches Captain's attention but he glares back. Cradling his head with a hand, Bait moves a little slower to the wash area. 

_-_-_

Water never felt so good, he splashes his face a few times before toweling dry. Reddened eyes stare back at him from the cracked mirror. He looks away, uncomfortable with his own scrutiny. 

“You look awful, rough encounter?” 

Captain leans against the wall, half blocking Bait's way back. Hackles rise immediately as a scowl builds behind the towel. The yellow man smartly keeps his distance as Bait is not afraid to bite. Getting no response, Captain just continues although his tone is harder. “What? You and Leaf got separated, from her words I thought you'd been caught. Rook said your signal got cut near an exit.”

Bait brings his shoulders closer to himself despite the irritation. Pointed glares are all the other gets. Captain sighs at him and rubs the side of his head, a rage filled glare has the other flinch. He's pushing his luck.

“Well, I mean I can play 20 questions. But judging by those bites I'd say-”

“Bracken…” Bait hisses out, baring his teeth and daring another snarky comment. Captain looks down at his stomach for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Bait had been issued baggier jackets lately to better hide any encounters. Even with that and his smaller statute sometimes one could still tell. The man leans in so only Bait can hear him, "Watch your tone mutt."

Unease quells the previous fire and he looks away. Captain turns away and heads back towards the front, satisfied with an answer.

“Rook! We're heading to Gordion.”

“What? But there's still a day of quota.”

“It's covered.”

Rook grumbles something Bait can't hear over the roar of his thoughts. Less like words and more like raging flames as he grinds his teeth. He hates Captain, he's been his handler since the team started. Lately he hasn't been on his case but, there's a building tension and he's afraid. Glancing back at himself he's greeted to an angry feral expression which causes some shame. His emotions burn out and he sulks his way back to his bunk. He's so tired.

Noises and voices mix into unintelligible soup by the time he stops at his bed. A bottle of water, bar ration and small cup of pills rest next to his helmet. Citrus must have spared him some painkillers from his stash. He takes the meds and gingerly sits down, trying not to jostle his guts. Settling down bait picks up his helmet, noticing a chip in it above the visor. Looks more like cosmetic damage than integral damage so he merely tucks it underneath with his boots.

Leaf had long since laid down and had her back to him. Regret for not staying together pulls at tired limbs. 

What's done is done…

Can't change it now...

….Sounds more like he's trying to comfort himself.

Dirty blonde hair flops over the upper bunk, soon followed by two mismatched blue eyes that peer down at him. Citrus holds a small thumbs up or down to ask about the meds. Bait gives a thumbs up and lays down after Ratchet dims the lights. One by one each crewmate goes to sleep. Thankfully with the painkillers and exhaustion Bait finds dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a routine job. Sure it was on a new moon to the crew, Adamance, but it was like expeditions before. Get in in pairs, salvage and get out.

Company approved even. 

Mendez and Ward went off together through the left path once inside. Fitzgerald, the captain, and Reid had gone into the fire exit. 

Brooks was running scrap back that the team dropped off outside. After two trips he would mildly risk it and see if there's anything interesting in the first three rooms to the right path.

Routine.

Gather scrap, return to ship and check in on the team. Repeat as needed.

Normal.

“Mendez, I see scrap in the room ahead if you're light handed.” Brooks walkies and waits for a response. The dot that was Mendez moves but pauses.

“I think I hear something..”

There's no red dot on the monitor, ok it's not close. Switching to Ward, she wasn't far from Mendez but there's a room between them. Fitz and Reid were heading back towards the fire exit. Their dots are barely visible under the yellow triangles. 

“Brooks there's so- what the hell is that!”

Muffled thumping can be barely made out over the ambient static. Hair prickles up the back of his neck with dread as Brooks tries to ask for clarification.

The words never came.

“No, no! No! Fu-hck!”

The blue crewmate jumped at the piercing feedback as the walkie cut with a choked scream. Hands releasing it and scramble to switch screens. 

What is happening?!

A large red dot smothered the blue that represented Mendez. It moved but he didn't. Shallow breath fogged Brooks’ visor as fingers trembled.

Move.

Please, you have to move. He willed the motionless dot to even dance by a pixel. Just a flicker…anything. One miserable sign of life.

Ward's voice crackles and jolts him out of his moment.

“B-Brooks…I..I think Mendez is dead.”

Shit! Where'd it fall? Shit! Brooks ducked under the terminal and snatched up the small lifeline. So small yet so heavy in his gloved hand.

“Run! Don't try to retrieve him! Run!” He nearly cracked the plastic casing as terror for his friend balloons in his chest.

“Right! Uh, I'll need help!”

Jumping up at the request came with an explosion of pain as Brooks cracked the back of his helmet off the terminal. Groaning internally he peeks at the screen through the pain.

“Yes! Uh, looks clear ahead!”

His helmet is cast aside in favor of rubbing the pain away as quick one directions are barked out.

Left.

Right.

Straight.

Up.

Right.

Ri-

Ward's dot stopped, panting coming through the walkie.

“The door's locked!”

Oh no.

“Uh, double back and go straight!”

The dot followed the instructions but once again stopped. What happened this time? There's no turrets or mines! 

Are there stairs? Catwalk?

Damn these ancient machines!

“B…. It's a jump.”

No..

Nonono…

The thumping was starting to be picked up again. It kept up.

“I got to try!”

“No..th…there's got-”

“I don't have time! Ohgod!”

The dot jumps forward as the red threat dashes into the room. The two overlap, but only for a moment. 

A sharp gasp broke the silence as Brooks’ hands lunged forward as if him grasping at the circle would protect her.

Neither move. Brooks chokes on a held breath, jaw twitching. He tries to even squeak out more than sounds.

She can't be…

“W….”

The world stopped, fingertips shaking as his gaze bored into that dot. His mind stutters to even grasp reality. The near silent ticking from the quota counter was the only indication of time passing. His tongue feels dry and too big for his mouth.

Tick.

Tick..

Tick….

A hard swallow barely loosens it as he presses the button. The words feel like bile as he all but whispers.

“W-Ward? Please…..please tell me you made…it..”

He releases the button and is greeted to static. Neither dot moves. Switching to Mendez, the blue circle hasn't moved at all.

Back to Ward.

Nothing. Her dot is still.

Shoulders hug his head as it falls in defeat. Anger and guilt well up, threatening to break free. He barely lets a wet sob out, swallowing back everything just to breathe. Despite the white noise of the terminal the silence pressed on Brooks’ ears. It hurt and frustratingly rubbing away tears didn't alleviate the pressure.

'Crunch’

Brooks practically jumps out of his skin as the sound of footsteps ring through the small ship. Fitz and Reid are talking quietly and emptying their returned scrap by the storage closet. Reid notices Brooks' condition first. It's hard to miss a helmetless crewmate that is barely holding himself up by the terminal.

“Brooks? Wh…”

They must have looked at the screen past his hunched form at the unmoving dot. Brooks straightens up with a shaking breath, words dying behind the lump in his throat. His jaw worked at the words but they just wouldn't come out.

Not that anything needed to be said, not now at least. Fitz was rigid, two of his crew were dead. If Ward’s dead then so is Mendez, they rarely stray apart. This was supposed to be routine.

_-_-_

A heavy pause was broken by a small sniffle from Reid. That broke the spell holding the three in place and Fitzgerald turned on his heel to head back. Both Brooks and Reid scramble to respond. The blue crewmate beats them to it.

“Fitz! W- captain where are you going? It's getting too dangerous!”

Reid's head looks between the two several times before following after their captain. Brooks reaches out in desperation but Reid's words stop him.

“Stay back with the ship! We haven't hit quota!”

Quota?

Fuck.

Sluggish eyes look up at the all knowing counter. They were 150 credits off. One more trip and they can escape this wretched place. His gaze fell to the screen once more, there's no reason to try and collect them, they'll take the hit.

They'll survive.

_-_-_

Minutes felt like hours as he watched them on the terminal. Occasionally he'd flip through but there's no movement on the others. The silence had wrapped itself around Brooks like smoke once again. The thrum in his ears was impossible to shake off by himself. He can't go back alone, they'll be ok…

Right?

“Hey Brooks…”

Reid's voice crackles up from the walkie that was now resting on the terminal. He merely blinks at it, arms too heavy to answer them.

“My hands are full. I'm coming back. I don't know where the captain went…he split off.”

What?

Hands shot forward and nearly slapped the plastic square into the glass screen. He grips it tightly, sighing in frustration.

“Fitzgerald left you?!”

After what happened?!

“Fitz! Captain, where are you?”

“...Fitz! Captain, where are you?”

The echo of his question had Brooks turn towards the bunks. 

When?

Fitz's walkie sat abandoned on the lower bunk. He..

“Reid! Captain left his walkie behind! You have to leave! Don't go looking for him!” Fear cracked his voice as he looked at the screen labeled Fitzgerald. There's three blue dots.

Ward and Mendez are still motionless.

_-_-_

The walkie clicks a few times as Reid tries to form a reply. He just left his only communication behind? 

Groans of metal and a slamming door jolt them from their stupor. Right, the ship. Shifting their grip on the cash register they found, Reid briskly retraces their steps.

Back through the door.

Left threshold.

Straight.

Strafe the hole in the catwalk.

Right.

Down.

Another set of footsteps make them pause. Had Fitz rethought his…decision. They spare a glance back and feel the floor drop out from under them. Gloved fingers grip the right edge of the doorway as a smiling mask slowly reveals itself from the darkness. Red glowing eyes bore through Reid's entire person. Ice crawls up their spine and nearly roots them to the spot. 

Shit!

Reid panics and fumbles, struggling to find the door handle while staring down the monster. Gurgled giggles bounce around the room as the Masked takes a slow full step into the light. 

“S-stay back you fucking menace-”

Their eyes wavered to the name tag and their hand almost slips straight off the handle. 

“..C…. Captain?”

The Masked seems delighted for a moment, clapping its bloodstained hands together. The shocked silence made it more bold and took several steps forward with a little hop in its step. Thick, blackened red goo bubbles from behind the mouth of the mask. The clear threat shook the ice from Reid's hand as they twisted the knob and fell backwards through the door just as the Masked lunged for them. A sharp kick closed the door and bounced the Masked back.

'thmp…thmp..thmp..’ 

“R..”

'thmp..’

“..d?”

“Reid! Please..please be alive.”

Air hurts to suck in when you don't know you were holding it. Reid sits up after pushing the register aside.

“I'm here…I'm here.” They pant and clink the walkie to their visor. Damnit, it went to all hell. Their moment of rest breaks when they hear something at the entrance.

'jiggle..’

Shit! Right, they can open doors! Reid scoops up the scrap and hightails it back towards the ship as the door slams open behind them.

_-_-_

The relieved sound that came from Brooks would have gotten him ribbed by Mendez. Reid's alive! 

But…the other blue dot is following them. Looking up at the clock Brooks whips around and snatches a stop sign. They won't be able to outrun an unencumbered Masked. Skipping most of the stairs he charges into the forest. 

_-_-_

A distressed yell brings his attention to a laser focus through the brush. Rustling leaves part to heavy boots as Reid strains to stay ahead of the monster. Just a few more meters.

“Brooks!!”

Their panic turned into relief seeing the truly furious crewmate running at them, swinging back the sign. Reid drops the scrap and ducks to the ground as the Masked breaks through the foliage.

'Thwanggk’

The bright red octagon made solid contact with the face of Masked. The force staggered it and a second strike sent it sprawling, porcelain scattering. The mask wasn't destroyed but damn was it smashed.

“Hurry, keep going!”

Brooks drags Reid to their feet, pushing the sign into their hands as he grabs the scrap. A rough nudge wakes up the stunned crewmate and the two sprint back without checking if the Masked was actually dead. Honestly Brooks doesn't know if he could have finished it off to begin with.

'Clnk’

Hearing the door close was like music, Brooks however not wasting time to get the ship up off the ground. Reid collapsed to the floor, panting loudly, the adrenaline starting to wear off. The ship shivers with lift off, whirring as it climbs away from that hellish situation. There's a relieved sigh and near crazed laugh from the blue crewmate. It lasts only for a moment.

“You idiot! Running out without your helmet!”

Brooks hadn't even thought about it, his mind was too on task at the time. He looks at Reid as they rip their own helmet off. They half heartedly chuck it at him, barely holding back a rage filled cry. Silence descends on the two remaining crewmates as the helmet clatters harmlessly under the terminal. Reid pulls their knees to their chest and doesn't meet his eyes. Brooks fiddles with his gloves before removing them and setting them aside. He takes a few steps to reach Reid and kneels down with them.

“I'm sorry, I..I didn't want to risk losing you too.”

A sharp intake was the only sound from them. After a moment Brooks reaches out and unclips the oxygen tanks on Reid's back and moves both to the side so they can be recharged heading back to Gordion. He adds his own and stretches, trying to ease the tension in his back.

“...Do you think we'll be reassigned? We lost….” 

Them all…

Neither knew what the Company would choose. But that's…not important now. Brooks pats Reid's head, “Just rest for now. No reason to stay on the floor for the trip back.”

A limp backhand pushes away his small token of affection as they stagger to their feet. They look at him for a long moment before stealing Ward's lower bunk.

Well….guess it was free to take…considering.

Boots are kicked off unceremoniously before the orange suit disappears under a blanket. Brooks dims the lights as he checks the auto pilot course. It looks clear, it'll take a few hours but…

They survived.

That's something…

Right?

Chapter Text

Employee: #1087

Moniker: Captain

Past logs:

Redacted

Pertinent Information:

Prior crew was entirely lost. Incident No. Redacted

Warning: You do not have correct permissions to view these files. Turn back before appropriate punishment is filed.

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___Bypass Denied___

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO VIEW THIS DOCUMENT.

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___Bypass Denied___

GO BACK

_

_

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Proceed? Y</N

_-_-_

Employee: #2171

Moniker: Rook

Past Logs:

Queen entrusted Rook with the terminal after a rough encounter with a Jester.

Rook is very adept at his station and keeps the team safe. Mental fortitude seems to be affected by prior encounter. Monitor further.

After an encounter with uh uh uh! No peeking!

 ……………………….

………………………..

Recruited to experimental crew as the third employee.

Employee Files: 

I destroyed the adoption papers! 

You can’t send me back! 

They’re all gone! 

You have to learn about me the hard way!

Videos are prohibited from being added to files.

Videos are prohibited from being added to files.

VIDEOS ARE PROHIBITED FROM BEING ADDED TO FILES.

Rook stop trying to add ‘memes’ to your file.

:<

Chapter Text

Dreamless doesn't mean restful.

Drifting between sleep and awake came sensations. The blanket moves, sharp fingertips ghost against his legs. Breathing shakes as something encloses around his throat. His body refuses to move, only shaking in growing fear. 

Where is he?

Low uneasy sounds slip past dry lips, his nightmare pulling no one's attention. His mind begs for still limbs to move, even for a twitch of a finger but there's nothing. Appendages slide under the blanket to feel his body. Claws wrapping around his limbs to pin him in place. His stomach drops while his body feels disconnected from himself.

Get up, get up, get up! Make it stop! Please move!

With effort he forces his eyes open to see nothing ahead of him, just darkness. He can barely hear his own panicked breathing over his heart racing in his ears. A hand grabs under his chin, choking him slightly. Familiar chittering pricks at the edges of his hearing as a claw runs over the scar on his lip, a ghost of a memory. 

No…nonono…stop…

Tears slowly roll down the side of his head, internally screaming at his frozen form. The sound of teeth snapping next to his ear jolts Bait awake, breaking the spell. He bolts up gasping and wildly looking around. The roar of blood in his ears drowns out any ambient sounds around him. Trembling fingers fist tightly, blunt nails biting into his palms. 

Reality creeps into his vision, he's surrounded by metal. The familiar red hue of the emergency lights and soft snores of the body above bring him back. 

He's on the ship, he got out.

Unscathed, no, but out. Gripping the blanket so tight his knuckles turn white he breathes slowly through his nose and exhales. A few repeats of measured breathing calms his heart. Closing his eyes and letting his head hang brought pain at the back of his neck. Hissing softly he rubs the pain away and listens.

Ratchet is fast asleep, she always was a heavier sleeper. He mildly envied her ability to just knock out when she wanted to. Rook's breathing was lighter as he mumbled in his sleep, it seemed good from the little giggles that came and went. Bait could never grasp how he's so unbothered by this. His grip slowly eases as he becomes more aware of himself. 

Leaf was an unmoving lump, curled up and facing away from the cabin. He feels bad that running into the Nutcracker was so traumatizing. She was still an intern, they never expect the terror those moons are like. His guts shift, reminding him what happened.

Sighing to quell some queasiness he notes it's different than earlier. Did he eat? Blindly feeling around he hears the crinkle of the wrapper. He did not but the desire to remedy it escapes him. He'll deal with that later.

Where's Captain?

Squinting worried ly and looking at the other bunks he sees Captain isn't there. Twisting towards the terminal he sees him asleep, folded over the machine. Why was he there? He's not normally kept there so long. Unable to keep facing towards the front of the ship he relents and stares at the grey blanket. Bait's eyes grow heavy, despite the whispers of the nightmare he is tired. The crewmate carefully lays back down in a way that his guts don't protest too loudly. His head buzzed with thoughts and worries. 

Is Leaf ok? 

She didn't look at him.

Does she blame him?

He blames himself. The Intern got hurt with him.

What could he have done differently?

He reacted instinctively. She moved reflexively. He's not a fighter like Ratchet or the captain. They would have been able to deal with it.

Was it even possible that something different could have been done?

Nutcrackers haven't been anything but aggressive towards Bait so he doesn't know if…they're like Brackens to him. The one time a Nutcracker got too close that plant beast jumped it. He still isn't sure if the reason was for something else but he didn't stick around to find out. One of the few times he managed to do a mission normally. 

She wasn't stalked by anything else right? 

Her injuries don't suggest further encounters but it's not like she was talkative earlier. Bait draws in on himself and frowns. A deep shudder climbs up his back from the simple movement.

I want these things gone…

_-_-_

He doesn't remember going back to sleep but he is awakened by the cabin rattling on re-entry. That shakes him enough to cause pain, making him growl under his breath and curl up. 

Why is this one so rough?

Citrus appears with water and another ration, he waits for a moment before eventually sitting down on the floor. Bait isn't ready to interact with anyone so he remains in a ball. They watch the others getting ready for landing, one more attentive than the other. Captain steps towards the front of the ship.

“Rook and Ratchet you'll handle drop off. Take Citrus if you need to. Remember most of this will go back into the ship but keep some spare. Bait and Leaf will go to medical. Leaf will not be returning, we have a replacement I'll be finding as I handle preparations.”

Bait lifts his head in disbelief, what? Leaf is leaving?

She blames you. You failed to keep together and she couldn't rely on you.

He stares hollowly at the back of Citrus’s head, Leaf is leaving. Another sixth member leaving due to injury, an injury he was involved in. Most changes to crews were deaths and this crew hasn't experienced that yet. That used to be a comfort, but this means someone new will brought on. New is uncomfortable. New can be manipulated, new might not see him as a person. She was a good crewmate and made him feel normal when paired together. His gaze slowly scans Leaf’s bunk, she sitting with her arm in a hastily made sling. She's not looking at him, paying more mind to Captain. Citrus leans back, “The shot she got from that critter was pretty nasty. She'll have to recover a little bit.”

That makes sense but…

The ship landing cuts off his train of thought as well as Citrus offering the water again. Bait takes it and peels himself out of bed. Boots slide on with practiced ease as well as gloves while he takes small sips. The door opens and they're greeted by rain.

Aah, that's why the descent sucked.

No one looks particularly excited by this as Captain scoffs and puts on his helmet. Rook bounces on his heels as Ratchet gears up. Leaf and Captain leave in silence, the taller man handling her pack as they walk from view. Slowly standing to not jostle the eggs, Bait groans from the soreness. His legs ache uncomfortably, Citrus offers his helmet so he doesn't have to crouch down. The green crewmate gives an appreciative sound and feels a small comfort having his face covered. Citrus turns to the tall red crewmate, “Ratchet do you think you'll need me?”

“Nah, we still have plenty of credits. I'll be buying the last bit for the camera upgrades so get anything you want. And well….more medical supplies.” She tilts her helmet towards green as her sentence fades. Citrus nods a bit and walks to the terminal as the other two disembark. Bait watches them disappear before getting up. He gives Citrus a small helmet head bump before heading out. 

Normally he's the first one off with his current situation but he was really dizzy. Not eating was a bad call but it's a little late now. Making his way to the medical bay everything feels distant. He barely notes any other employees, just splashes of color against the dark grey of everything else.

The medical waiting room's sickly brightness burned his eyes a bit and brought him back. Blinking away the pain he gives the room a uninterested glance. He huffs and pulls the tag from his jacket and swipes it next to a closed door. It beeps and in he walks through sterile white halls. Looking up at the slit in the ceiling he slowly removes his helmet. A tablet descends from the ceiling and gets a little too close to his face. His lip twitches as he swallows a low growl, he loathes this damn system.

“Hello Employee #5328. Body scans say you-zzzt,”

Bait slaps his hand into the board with a scowl. A generic warning that damage of Company Property was a finable offense is rattled off but it silences the annoying voice for a moment.

He removes his hand and swipes his card to know where he needs to go.

“Please proceed to room 4.”

He pushes past and ignores the robotic voice as it prattles on. Walking past door after door, he wonders where Leaf was as he stops at room four. The light above glowed green to show no occupant, room three and one's lights were red. Entering into the door the automatic light flips on as the door closes behind him with an echoing click. 

It's a basic room but it's private which lets him unwind in peace. His eye catches movement so he casts his gaze towards it. Exhausted and dull green eyes stare back, framed by flattened brown hair. Bait jerks his head away and moves to check a tablet on the table. He places his helmet and badge down while he boots up the robot nurse. Skipping over most words he just wants meds so that he doesn't hurt later. 

Taking the meds he thumbs through the options and finds a shower option. The idea of being clean was too tempting. Plus his wounds will be in better shape. Tapping on the enter key a door opens on the other side of the room. Explains why the rooms were so separated in the hallway. 

Pushing open the door he's greeted to a fairly plain shower room. That's more than enough to make him feel a little better. Ruined Company uniform is tossed away into disposal without much thought before he goes into the other room. Fiddling with the shower settings Bait carefully removes his bandages. Citrus did a good job but the doctor that'll see him will redress them. Hands hesitate momentarily as they ghost over his stomach. Nausea creeps up his throat, tongue feeling oddly dry.

Ignore it... they'll be gone just take a shower...

Taking a slow deep breath he steps into the hot water. He sucks in a pained gasp, fuck that hurt. Powering past the urge to get out he sets to wash up. The soap smelled fairly basic with vaguely fruity. Like someone waved a strawberry in the same room as the product was. That thought makes him chuff in amusement as ghosts of his experience are washed away by artificial fruit. He pulls at a lock of hair, debating if it's getting a bit too long. Citrus would be more than eager to work on the thick mane that he has.

A soft chime rings through the small room with a message that someone will be seeing him soon. Damn, Bait wanted to just be in the water. 

Five more minutes...

Pressing his forehead he closes his eyes and just listens to the water splashing. It's soothing. Just a little longer where he can forget the rest of the universe.

Chapter Text

Neither spoke, anytime they made eye contact one broke into quiet sobs. It's surreal that they had been a team of five just yesterday. Brooks caught himself thinking that he'd look up at a bunk to see anyone but Reid.

Reid held onto Ward's personal belongings like a lifeline, even when sleep graced them they held her favorite shirt against their chest. The blue crewmate did the unglamorous job of gathering the other two's personal belongings so they could be handled by the Company.

He knows that the Company plans to separate them, he's been reassigned already. Reid didn't look at their emails yet, didn't have the heart to. He couldn't bring himself to eat but somehow coaxes Reid to after they calmed down from crying.

However when the ship buzzed with a notification that they were an hour away Brooks started to shut down. It was becoming real to him, that everything that had happened was real. He barely registers the other speaking to him, eyes boring holes into the floor.

Reid had to handle the landing as Brooks had spiralled so badly. They had managed to lead their friend to a bunk so he's at least strapped in. Said blue crewmate was staring hollowly through a half torn poster. Everything felt distant and fake, yesterday this ship was full of chatter. Now there were just two traumatized crewmates and a sense of emptiness.

The ship rattles upon re-entering the atmosphere and it finally snaps Brooks back. If he continues to spiral he won't be able to actually say goodbye. Eyes meet and for once there's no tears, just a solemn understanding. 

“Reid…I …I'm sorry this…happened..” Why was he apologizing like he was responsible for it? He watches Reid frown and sighs.

“You don't need to apologize. It happened so fast. And….and Fitz made his choice..” They sound dead yet angry. The two fall quiet for a moment longer, Reid rubbing their arm to soothe themselves. 

“I'm upset this is how we have to part ways.” Brooks murmurs quietly. 

“We at least get to say goodbye.”

Suddenly it got hard to breathe as tears burned Brooks’ eyes. He frustratingly rubs his eyes, not wanting to fall apart in front of them. Reid rubs his shoulder, “Holding it in won't help moving forward. It's ok to cry Brooks.”

He can't hold it and crumples against them. They support each other til the ship lands. Brooks isn't ready to have to leave and never see Reid again. When the pain fades they look at each other with tired understanding.

It's time to deposit their last haul and part ways. Reid gets up after a long moment, opening the door to rain. It looks like the weather is just as shit as the two feel. Helmets are fastened and scrap loaded up. 

They hand everything over in unified silence, relieved they made enough despite penalties. Walking back to get their packs Reid sighs at the door of the ship. 

“I'll get everything shut down here, can you handle their belongings please? I..”

“Yeah, of course.”

Leaving the items that Reid had taken from Ward's belongings alone Brooks fastens the extra packs together. He gears up fully with everything and places a hand on Reid's shoulder, “I guess…this is goodbye?”

“The proper one, I hope we meet up here and talk.” Reid looks away, patting his hand before heading to the terminal. “Go on. You'll make your new team late.”

It doesn't feel right to have to walk to 'HR’. The moderate sized building houses the Board and Drop-off. The ‘Board’ is a massive tile board that lists the lost, terminated and successful of the week. Often there's a small gathering there at any given time, hoping not to see familiar numbers in the first two columns. The tiles moved quickly, clacking and spinning to keep the charts up to date. Brooks obviously does not want to see his crews’ numbers up there so he presses on to Drop-off.

Drop-off was just that, a place to drop off belongings of the dead. There's no real interaction with whoever or whatever is on the other side of the frosted glass. You'd simply give the number of the employee lost and slide the pack through the slot. 

“Identification of Employee?”

“Employee #4672.”

“Stated Business?”

“Turning over lost employee articles.”

A silence settles as clicking keys is heard through the slot in the heavily frosted glass. He would be lying saying that he was turning over everything. Along with Reid keeping some of Ward's things, he had taken Mendez's canteen as well as Fitz’s hip pack and blade. His old crew will stay with him in meaningful ways. 

“Deposit articles.”

One by one each pack is turned over. He doesn't see hands or any real sign that there's a person on the other side. 

“Services have been rendered.”

Brooks nods and turns to leave, he feels mildly jittery not having turned over everything but he wasn't going to anyway. Distracted by his thoughts and not paying attention he bumps into a short orange employee, “Oh sorry, didn't see you.”

Unusual blue eyes squint at him as the man fusses with curly blonde hair. His attention returns to the Board which has Brooks glance up as well.

“Any one you're looking for?” He asks as casually as possible, eyes dragging over numbers.

“Just a few friends. I check and hope not to see their numbers on the deadlands. So far none but it's something I do while waiting.”

Brooks nods idly, looks like their numbers weren't added yet which had him relax. They stand there being surrounded by the constant chatter of people and the oppressive clacking. A small beep has the orange employee looking at his watch, he makes a small sound of recognition.

“Gotta go, see you around..?” His voice trails off as he prompts for a name.

“Brooks.”

“Citrus.” He smiles and on the helmet goes before he walks off out into the rain. Brooks should too, he needs to find his new captain. With one last look at the Board he disembarks. 

Despite the weather there's plenty of movement between buildings and ships. A purple clad employee nearly takes him off his feet running past. There's a muffled apology but they don't stop. 

Looking for one of the bigger ships…I think.

He wanders aimlessly for what feels like hours but it's probably only twenty minutes. Stopping to the left of a ship he reads the identification number and finds it familiar. The ship is large, in better shape he's seen other ships and might be the one he's supposed to be on. Climbing the stairs and looking in he is a little surprised to see two Company men setting something up next to the storage bay. They notice him and seem to finish up, checking on the installation before leaving. Left alone he takes in the ship, it's longer than most while the front ‘room' seems shorter. On his left is the standard storage unit, the new installation and a teleport. On the back wall where there's normally bunks is the terminal. To his right is a coat rack, a mechanic fold down bench with wall mounted storage and the ordering terminal. A small hallway between the terminals must house the bunks and such towards the back of the ship. 

“I hope your Employee #4672, I don't take kindly to unauthorized guests.” A hard voice has Brooks stiffen up like he was caught red handed. Turning back he is greeted to a shorter yellow suited man with his wet helmet tucked under arm. The older man is scrutinizing him with suspicion as the other fumbles to give a response.

“Ah, yes sir. The name's Brooks.” He sounds unsure but the man seems to relax. Nodding in recognition he says smoothly, “I go by Captain. If you're familiar with the terminal, get yourself handled. Ratchet will probably ask you some questions when she and Rook return.”

His attention wanders and stops paying him mind when he noticed the new installation, humming and hawing over it. Looks like a large liquids container but Brooks doesn't understand it. Captain motions him to the terminal with a mildly dismissive hand wave. 

Brooks hopes the others aren't as corporate as their leader as he logs himself into the computer. A file set to his left draws his eye. The photo of a man with green eyes and scruffy brown hair is paper clipped to the folder. While getting himself situated he peeks at the name listed and notes there is another two folders but he can't read them at all.

Bait... What ? That's…an interesting nickname. Brooks didn't really know what to think about that before he finished setting himself up. Stepping away he glances over at the sound of bigger, heavier footsteps and he sees a red suited crewmate who is somehow taller than him. They had a crate under one arm and a purple clad human under the other. Said purple was giggling and kicking their feet like an excited child. The crate was deposited onto the workbench but the wiggling crewmate is held firm. 

“You must be the newbie. I'm Ratchet, the mechanic for the crew. This walking disaster is Rook.” Ratchet says as she deftly removes a dripping wet helmet. Rook crossed their arms but was still not put down yet but seemed to perk up just as fast. Brooks had to admit he doesn't know how to evaluate Rook yet.

“Hey hey you know how to work the computer! That's my job,” He throws off his helmet to glare pointedly for a moment before glowing with a smile, “That means I can go indoors now!”

Nevermind, he knows now, crazy! Why would he be excited to go into the facilities? If he's also a proper terminal tech then he's seen the horrors. Or…is he someone who thrives on that?

Ratchet shuffles past the mildly stunned man and plops Rook on his feet, “Get his profile hooked up to Leaf's camera.”

Tasked appropriately Rook starts typing away. Ratchet spins around and easily backs Brooks to the bench. Before he can really object she has a towel wrapped around his head, thunking on the dome to get it dry.

“Hey!”

“If your helmet's not dry the glue won't set right.” She explains while fiddling with the right side of his head. There's a sharp click of something going into place before he's spun around but can now see again. The sound of tools scraping and tightening something down makes him unreasonably curious.

“Alllmost…there! Camera is on. Rook is it transmitting?” She had released him to see if her handiwork was perfect. Rook types in a camera prompt and Brooks sees the terminal in the camera feed.

“Pretty cool right? Better tracking and once I have the teleport recalibrated it'll lock onto you faster than before. Means that even if your walkie dies it'll find you, just don't lose your helmet.” She strides right past him again to get tools and sets to work on the teleport. He is impressed by her work, there's no sound but it'll help with assisting anyone inside. He jumps a bit when he realizes that Rook has been staring at him.

“What's your name?”

Uncertainty makes him flit his eyes away as if he was about to lie, “Uh…Brooks.”

“Your old crew used last name nicknames? Lame. My crew used chess terms, Ratchet came from a toolbox.”

“Which is fine, leader was a tool.” Ratchet calls over her shoulder without looking away. Brooks nods but is a little confused, this ship is way too big for just four total. There has to be more right?

With everyone else working on something, Captain looks to have disappeared while they were distracted. Brooks decides to slink to the back area to find his bunk and settle in a bit. The hall is a bit cramped only a foot wider than his shoulders but is thankfully short. The back area has the lion's share of ship space. A set of three bunks is closer to him on the left than set on the right. They're off center by a red supply cabinet directly to the right of him. It houses medical supplies, water and rations. Further back is the washroom, he checks it out briefly. It's a bit tight but there's a shower, toilet and sink. The mirror above the sink is cracked like someone punched it. That felt a little unsettling compared to the fairly clean interior.

Refocusing on finding his bunk to rest before the rest of the crew returns he faces back towards the room. Stage right bunks look completely claimed while the lowest bunk to the left appears open. He isn't too upset about that and crouches next to it. His pack is tucked under the bunk followed by his gloves and boots. Removing his damp jacket he folds it loosely and puts it on top of everything else. The helmet is placed underneath away from the wet items so the glue doesn't get wet. 

Laying down Brooks felt everything just hit him at once. He's so tired and with relaxing just a little he almost immediately sinks into some much needed shut eye. 

Chapter Text

Wakefulness came slowly, but the annoyingly bright light above did not allow Bait to go back under. He makes a disgruntled sound while propping himself up with his elbows. Covering his eyes and rubbing away the ache while the vestiges of sleep leave his heavy limbs. 

Blinking slowly he doesn't remember leaving the shower room but he is on the examination table. His lifted hand trails down his face to feel bandages on his shoulder. The bites don't ache as much as earlier which is a small win. Eyes fall down to a thankfully flat stomach, the relief has him laying back down. The artificial light above burns images into his eyes until he closes them with a huff. He rubs the palms of his hands against his forehead, he can't just stay for an extra hour. 

Having no good excuse to stay put he groans and sits up, glaring at his new uniform. Forcing out air with a scoff he gets up, legs aching but it's easy to ignore. An involuntary stretch crawls up his form as he raises his arms above his head. With a few twists he works the stiffness out of his back, wondering if Citrus will be waiting for him. 

A new tank top and underwear are quickly covered by a clean green uniform. He idly flicks the heart shaped zipper on his jacket and grumbles under his breath. Belt and boots are fastened with practiced ease before Bait picks up his helmet. The chip in it remains so it is not a new one which he doesn't mind at all. Ready but not ready to walk back into the crowd, the crewmate double checks if he had received any papers. When none turn up he grabs his badge and heads out. 

Citrus is waiting for him, giving a small wave as he approaches, “You ok? Took longer than normal so I got a little concerned.”

He receives a thumbs up, smile dropping just a touch. Citrus is quite a talker which Bait's found comforting at times. However there's moments when it's clear that orange doesn't understand that green is just quiet. There's no grudge held but sometimes it seems the silence is a lot for him. Bait wished he could hold a conversation better but he runs out of words so fast and relies on signing or body language more. 

The orange crewmate puts on his helmet, “It's still rainin’ and gross out.”

Bait makes a 'so-so’ motion with his right hand and gets a low chuckle out of the other. 

“Yeah when isn't it? Let's head back, I'm sure we’re the last ones out.”

Bait scrunches his nose up a little, not thrilled to be heading back so quickly. He shrugs and follows after Citrus, stomach reminding him to eat when they get back. The rain surrounds his hearing with soothing pitter patter mixed with the low chatter of people. 

Citrus spoke at him about going to HR, he didn't see any familiar numbers thankfully. He had been bumped into by someone who seemed polite but distracted. It's casually dropped that he believes that employee had been dealing with turning over belongings. Little orange didn't see Leaf come out of the back while waiting for Bait but he wasn't there the whole time so she could have left earlier. 

Every now and then Bait would give a nonverbal reaction to keep Citrus talking, it kept the distant voices from pressing in. Walking up onto the ship it does look like they are the last ones back. There's no sign of someone new, just Ratchet working on the teleporter and Rook watching reverently. Citrus inquiries if they're hiding in the back of the ship.

“Yeah, disappeared after getting into the computer.” Rook tosses at them, not quite paying attention. He covers his ears and flits a look at Bait that said man can't decipher. He glances back after passing by when Rook whispers to Ratchet, “How can you not hear that?”

Shrugging the oddness off Bait follows after Citrus, nearly running into him. The orange crewmate is staring at Leaf's old bunk.

“That's the guy I saw at the Board.” He breathes, a little surprised to see him. Well they weren't going to pull from an established group. Even Ratchet was picked because her old captain ejected her. Citrus’ prior conversation clicks, he was at HR which means his crew was lost. Bait winces a bit, that's a rough way to move crews. He's seen one of two ways employees in that situation go, overly protective or ending up dead. He hopes this guy can adjust well, this is a 'safer’ crew as Captain boasts.

…At my expense…

He leans on Citrus’ shoulder, pointing at the bunk and then to him with a thumbs up and down motion. He gets a scoff of indignancy before Orange doubles down, “Yes I'm sure. He has the same patch on his jacket. That fishing ship.”

There is certainly a water vessel shaped patch on his folded jacket so Citrus is right. Bait pats his shoulder in affirmation and slinks past him to lay down for however long it takes Captain to get back. Discarding his helmet and gloves he curls up on top of his blanket since he's still damp. He hears Citrus go to and check his bunk, giving a small 'yes’ of elation. His order must have gone through. A swish of fabric signals Citrus looking at him, “Hey, your hair is getting a bit long. Whenever you're sick of it just ask.”

There's a small thumbs up that falls back immediately as the green form shifts to get more comfortable. Citrus’ footsteps head back to the front and he's left with the new person. 

_-_-_

“Wake up you two, need everyone up front. Come on.”

Captain's curt voice has Brooks sitting up abruptly, looking at the yellow man with bewilderment. His eyes wander past to who he seems more focused on. A green clad man laying on the opposite bunk, one eye visible from behind an arm and glaring. 

“Get your asses up front.” Captain reiterates and leaves to the front of the ship. He only gets a low growling hum from the green lump. There's several heart beats before either move, Brooks breaking it first. He pulls his jacket on and steps into boots as he glances at the guarded expression from the other. 

“I guess we should go?” He sounds a bit unsure but it does prompt movement from the oddly quiet crewmate. He's still dressed so Brooks guesses they weren't there long. Once green is on his feet Brooks is greeted to the same face on the file. This is Bait and he looks exhausted and disheveled. A comment threatens to come out but Brooks bites his tongue, what a fine first impression if he angers this little jaded crewmate.

“The name's Brooks, I'm sure I'll have to repeat it but you know.”

Tension leaves the other's shoulder and he stands a bit straighter. Brooks watches the internal dialogue as Bait soon sighs and mumbles, “I'm Bait.”

He does not like his name at all, there's a venom dripping on the nickname. Brooks is intrigued as to how a crewmate could earn such a name but is sure the story isn't glamorous. The few scars on his face caught in the light filtering through the hall speaks of unlucky encounters. 

“You first or me?” 

Bait just motions for him to go first. 

So he's not a big talker. Hope he communicates in the facilities. Don't want another…

Brooks cuts off his thoughts and pushes into the artificial light of the front cabin. Bait trails behind but stands nearby, his tiredness even more apparent in the light as well as freckles that were hidden in the shadows.

Cute.

His attention snaps as the captain clears his throat, “We have a new employee here.”

He gestures to Brooks, prompting him.

“Hi I'm Brooks, met most- all of you now.”

Captain nods, “Quota has been reached and we're going to Offense. Ratchet has already procured the ladders necessary. Rook handle takeoff.”

Brooks sneaks a glance at Bait who has a very displeased expression on. He's not super well versed in all the moons but can guess a moon called Offense isn't easy. The purple crewmate starts typing in the coordinates while the door closes.

The trip is fairly uneventful. Bait laid in his bunk listening to Citrus, who sat on the floor, talk. Ratchet never stopped working in the front followed by her purple shadow. Captain stayed up front as well, occasionally moving when Rook took over the computer. 

Brooks eventually settled down next to Citrus to join in on the conversation. Bait shifts to be laying with his head lazily off the bunk side staring up at the ceiling. It takes blue a moment to work up a question, mild unease clear in his fidgeting.

“Is Offense difficult? My crew never got past Adamance so I'm a little out of my depth.” He questions honestly, only being met with identical dismay from the two.

“Offense is way more dangerous than Adamance. I don’ know exactly how they have everything broken down but considering Offense intermediate is foolish. Most safe landing zones lead to mine shafts. There are some factories but not nearly as many plus the ground ain't stable thanks to those damn worms. The Dogs and Hawks hate each other but you're screwed six ways to Sunday getting caught between their spats.”

Brooks nods along, “Why do you think we're going then? Is it about that container the Company installed?”

They both perk up, glancing towards the front of the ship. Bait makes a few gestures that Brooks can not understand. Sign language? Citrus understands, exclaiming softly.

“Ratchet did mention that she read an email that the Company wanted to add something to our missions sometimes. She didn't really go into the nitty gritty. Could be that reason, Offense has so many mines compared to other moons, even Adamance.”

The lost double blink was all Brooks can muster. This is definitely different from his old orders. Well this must be the 'experimental’ part of experimental crew. But the two seem used to this strangeness. Citrus rubs his chin a bit, running a hand over an invisible beard in thought.

“Maneaters show up in the mines pretty often. Could be somethin’ with them? Wouldn't be the first time we've had to do some monster… huntin’.” He muses but doesn't look at Brooks instead his eyes trail to Bait who meets his gaze for a split second and looks away with a look of..shame?

Something tugs in Brooks’ core for a man who looks like he's survived some shit to have such deep shame about it. He decides to not pry, both have their guards up and he can't blame them. He'd be equally as guarded if a new person started digging too deep. 

“I've heard of those, real tricky and demanding.” 

“Yeah, we'll see I guess. Oh!” Citrus stands up and paws at something just out of reach on his bunk. Bait props himself up on his elbows and tilts his head. An exclamation of triumph is followed by a tin lunch box. The short orange crewmate sits back down with his prize, “I like giving people stickers, they end up kinda everywhere but you know.”

With a distinct click the box is opened. Brooks sees a stack of stickers as well as trinkets, a box of bandages, a few keys and a bottle of pain meds. There's a cloth like bag tucked on one side that catches his curiosity.

“What's that?” He asks before being able to stop himself. Orange gives a little half smile as if he's been waiting for this question, “It's just my transmission fluid.”

Bait immediately chokes on a laugh, covering his mouth and rolling away from them. Brooks gets a bit startled and looks between them repeatedly in confusion before it clicks. He gets a bit pink and mutters an apology.

“No hard feelings friend.” Citrus reassures him with a small chuckle before starting to thumb through his stickers. Once the embarrassment fades Brooks looks at the sticker Citrus picked, an anchor used on old planet ocean ships. His mind wandered to the patch on his jacket, ah Fitzgerald's humor will continue to 'haunt’ him, “Let me grab my helmet, you can put it on.”

Citrus’ eyes glowed a bit with the opportunity. Brooks knee walks over to his bunk and grabs his helmet by the edge. Returning he gives it to the other who looks it over with scrutiny. 

“How about here? It's on the back but'll be easier to see in the dark. The white catches the light faster.”

His logic is sound so Brooks nods, “Makes sense.”

Citrus steals the corner of Bait's blanket to clean the chosen spot, ignoring the protests of said owner. There's a small pout but both watch as Citrus quite smoothly applies the anchor. Using his badge to make sure it's perfectly on he grins. 

“There we go, shouldn't fall off even in the rain unless your helmet gets wrecked. But uh, few come back from that.”

His helmet is plopped into his lap and gets to give it a look over. The sticker shimmers brightly in the dim light, which will be nice when places get dark. He feels that he'll find his footing in this crew despite the oddness of the people. 

They settle into light conversations, Brooks unknowingly nodding off after a bit. He's awakened when the rest of the crew filter in. Rook climbs up to his bunk past them with very little acknowledgement. Ratchet stops next to the group and gives the two sitting a tap, “Hey you three, we're a few hours out so get some sleep.”

Captain had climbed up to his place before she takes her bunk. Brooks yawns, not realizing that he had gotten so tired. When did he sleep last? 

Oh…

He reluctantly gets up and unsteadily makes his way to bed. His heavy head meets the pillow with a small sigh. Sleep pulls at his limbs, sweetly whispering in his mind. He's surrounded by the sounds of crewmates settling down. 

He didn't realize how much he missed it. 

Chapter Text

Darkness presses against Rook in every direction. It was suffocating him, swallowing him deeper into black water. There's no light or land anywhere they can see. Desperate arms reach up for anything he could grab to escape the pit. Words die in his throat with water filling his mouth.

A blackened hand clamps painfully onto his outstretched wrist, yanking him up. Coughing and gasping he looked at who had grabbed him. Except there's nothing human in front of him. An etched smile with no teeth pour inky blood into the abyss below.

Glowing red eyes illuminate his face accompanied with a sucking growl.

Wake up!

Rook bolts up violently, choking on his saliva. Not wanting to ruin his blanket hands clamp over his mouth. Dropping down as quietly as possible they stumble to the bathroom. Barely getting the door closed he aims for the sink. Fingers grip the edge as he spits out a mouthful of blackened drool.

Fuck…fuckfuckfuck…

Taking a deep breath and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he sucks in a hiss of disgust. He can only taste copper even after running his tongue against his teeth. A heart beat passes before he sets to washing it all away and rinsing out his mouth. Wiping their forehead he lifts his gaze at himself in the mirror. Hazel eyes reflect back at him, normal now that his heart calmed down. He fusses at his skin, checking to see if his whiter patches have changed. Stress seems to make his vitiligo worse though nothing appears to be different. When satisfied they run a hand through ash brown coils. They’re a mess, he hasn't been maintaining them well lately. 

Taking a moment to collect himself he twirls a few locs back into place and frowns a bit. Slowly peeking they check to see if he woke anyone up he thankfully finds everyone asleep. Eyes trail from Captain's bunk, lingering on Ratchet before sweeping down and over to the other side. They scrunch up their nose and shiver from whatever vibes are coming off of Bait. It's not as loud as it can be and easy enough to ignore, like a constant sound. 

Not willing to try to sleep with the buzzing in his brain he sneaks over to Ratchet's bunk and puts his chin on her pillow. Rook bounces on their tippy toes a bit when she rolls over, cracking one eye open. She squints at his grinning mug and reaches up, cupping his face firmly.

Heat dusts his face with loud heart beats. Hips wiggle just a little in excitement of her touch. She lifts her head a smidge so it's above the blanket while still not releasing his face but not hurting him, “Do not wake me up. Go check on the systems and lay back down afterwards. It's sleepy time so be good.”

Her hand falls limply and then she rolls over, missing the dilated eyes staring at her head. Her last words echo in his head, he'll be good!

They'll be good.

Silently stepping back, he glances around again. Everyone else is fast asleep, or at least pretending to be. Walking quietly on the balls of his feet Rook heads to the front of the ship. There's a giddiness in his limbs he can't shake, twirling hair to ease the feeling.

Tapping a few commands to check over the ship systems he reads idly. Fuel is good, looks like Captain had the tank topped off. Heat shields are perfect thanks to Ratchet's hard work. Their destination is still in line and on time. Although there's still almost two hours left. Rook groans in agitation, going back to sleep is going to be a pain. He continues to comb through other systems and everything looks good. It all checks out. Fiddling with a pen on the console they look towards the door.

Open it.

A sharp shiver has him jerk his head as he recoils from the thought. No, nope, he's going to be good. He wouldn't do that even if Ratchet didn't tell him that! Trying to ignore the voice more he uses his override codes to snoop through things he shouldn't be in. Captain writes that he isn't impressed with the new employee, blah blah blah. He's never pleased with anyone. Citrus’ files haven't been updated recently so nothing to pick at there. There's a report in Bait's, medical procedure to deal with eggs. Similar to what happened last time, nothing super new. Huh, but it does explain the quick end of the trip.

Could have still finished the last day…

Brooks files are basic and uninteresting, listing his prior crew and vague discussion about the loss of the team. Only other surviving crewmate by the name of Reid, assigned to a different crew. He does try to access Leaf's profile but it looks like Captain wiped her off the computer already. Bastard.

It's all boring anyway…

Rubbing an eye and grumbling under his breath he's getting a bit tired but fighting it. Ratchet's words whisper in his head, making him bite his lip. He could…he could probably get away with- no. Be good. Uuughh. 

If I'm not caught I'm still good.

Hands wander while they're distracted, trailing down his chest. He pauses, playing safe and sneaks back through the hall. Everyone is still asleep, he could do it. He can be quick. 

Returning to the terminal he lifts his tank and holds it in his teeth. Fingers trail over skin as he closes his eyes, palming the growing bulge in his pants. Low whispers reach their ears.

You look like you need a treat.~

Rook shivers feeling a warm touch drag down his chest and tug at his belt. The voice teases, Oh, do you not want a treat? Be a good boy and get that out of my way~

The belt buckle is no match for excited hands, releasing and tugging on his pants. A hand runs along his waist, thumb dipping below the waist band. With a quick tug the button pops open and the zipper pulled down.

Aw, you're hard already~ Cute. Now stay still~

Hips buck despite the command as cool air brushes against heated skin. He's chastised for not following orders, they can listen better than that.

“Hnn…ff..” He bites at the fabric, sounds swallowed into the cotton. Breath ghosts over his length, making him whine just a little. Fingers trace along under his member, circling the tip.

Remember if you're loud the game's over~

Game? He sucks in a breath to quiet himself as firm warmth grips him. Tight but kind, sliding from base to tip. His legs shake as the ghost takes form, Ratchet holds him against her chest, pinning him in place while stroking him so slowly. They try to keep still, but his hips buck into her hold desperate for more.

Behave Rook, you can do that for me~

Eyes roll back even behind closed lids, yes they can. Nails drag across sensitive skin trying to pull more sounds out of him. When he's quiet he's rewarded with a kiss to the neck. The pace quickens, breathing getting labored behind the tank gag. Small whimpers break through as they thrust into her grasp. He's falling apart so fast.

Oh look at you~ You want to cum?

He trembles against her, nodding quickly. A hand drags up to his throat, forcing his head back. He wants to so bad he'd beg if he could.

Say it~

The words press against his tongue, he was told to be quiet. Taking a sucking breath they whine, “P-please let me cum..”

It's so soft and pathetic that he hears her giggle possessively. It only makes them melt even more. 

Only good boys get to cum, are you a good boy?

He keens behind the gag, practically dripping in desire. Another nod, barely able to around the hand to his throat. The giggles turn into knowing chuckles, enjoying the scene.

Then cum~ Cum for me and maybe I'll give you something to scream about later~

A deep shudder racks against his spine as the hand tightens just enough to make each breath a fight. Toes curl and he struggles to stay upright as stars explode behind his eyes. They buck into the hand with each wave, white splattering onto the terminal and floor. Pumping his sensitive head the stars begin to fade.

Don't forget to clean up~

His eyes reluctantly open, looking at the mess he made of himself. Just him alone in the front of the cabin. His legs shake as he takes a step back to shakily swipe a discarded rag on Ratchet's bench. Wiping away sweat before cleaning himself up and releasing his tank and works the tension out of his jaw.

Ffffffuck…

He came on the terminal and set to work making sure his shenanigans aren't found out later. With one hand he is cleaning up while the other gets himself back together. Double checking the keys and glancing up at the camera he purses his lips. Right. That.

Making sure they're clean he stuffs the rag into his pocket and starts typing. As much as Captain thinks Rook is locked out of administrative controls he couldn't keep him out. Rook knows the computer better than anyone on the crew, Queen had made sure.

His fingers pause as they look around, Queen. He strains to hear, thinking she might be around.

Not here.

Right, he refocuses and breaks into the camera feed files. With practiced ease his little act disappears from the archive. Rook covers their tracks and logs out of everything once they are done. Sleep drags at his mind and pushing off the terminal he walks into the back. They can't help but flinch at the loud vibes coming off Bait as they approach to climb back into bed. Glancing down before climbing up he sees the light catch a single green eye glowering up at him. The feeling intensifies and his movements pause.

Make it stop.

He stalls at the words, head tilting to the side, trying to get his gears working again. Bait growls at him, visibly bristling at his stall out. Oh the urge to fight bubbles up at the hostility but he shakes his head and pulls Bait's pillow out from under his head and throws it over his face.

“It's sleepy time, sshh..”

When there's no response he climbs up to his bunk. Bait's weird. But he is fun to poke at, like an Eyeless Dog. Settling down and watching the sleeping form of Ratchet for a moment till he drifts off again. 

Eyes stay away from his dreams this time.

_-_-_

Lights flicking on has him hissing in aggravation, hiding his face under the pillow and trying to go back to sleep. Unfortunately that wasn't going to happen as someone pulls on his blanket.

“Hey, it's time to land, come on.” It's Ratchet who yawns half way through her sentence. He pops up a bit and she steals his pillow. Still too bright so it burns as his eyes reactively shut and rubs them with a whine. She chuckles and pushes the plush in his face, “Come on don't make me pull you out.”

He pulls the pillow and hugs it to their chest, “Promise?”

A notched brow raises at him with a bemused expression, “It's too early for you to be like this.”

He pouts but drops down smoothly. She only had to stand on one rung to be level with his bunk, so jelly with how tall she is. Red clad arms corral him forward after he finishes getting dressed. 

Everyone else was already up and in the front area. No one was talking but seemed to be waiting. Rook doesn't break the silence but taps the terminal to life. A few coordinates flash up as they read different conditions, he always leans to clear weather and lucks out that there's a location not affected by winds. The Captain begins to speak as he is busy making sure the landing is correct. 

“Quota is a little different, the Company wants-”

Boring...

He tunes out and yawns again, reaching up for his helmet on top of the terminal. Something clicks in his head, he can go inside this time. Excitement trails up his spine but he has to get out before Captain can confine him to the ship. Gearing up silently with the yellow man's back to him, Rook watches the landing countdown.

He licks his lips and once the ship starts to slow and the door opens he is off. The angry yell of his name is completely ignored in favor of hopping the railing. Rolling onto the rock stack next to the export pipe leading towards the facility he jumps up.

“Oh ho, made that!”

Captain was yelling at him but he runs in place, hopping from foot to foot. Once he feels loosened up enough he off across the pipe without a second to talk himself out of it. He can hear Ratchet calling from behind but he is gone. She'll catch him later or not.

The dust settled in places along the metal which would make normal boots find less footing but he is just fine, keeping his movements tight. Since he normally handles outside scrap runs his boots are built more like cleats. Scanning the surroundings he spies spikes to the left, that's a Hawk nest. Cool will hold onto that later.

Listening to his own echoing footsteps kept him focused forward. Just as the pipe turns right into the building he jumps down to the fire exit. Still electric they hop foot to foot to expend his energy.

Ratchet isn't visible yet so he slows a bit, breathing and getting ready to possibly have to sprint as soon as he goes inside. Wouldn't be the first time he's had to outmaneuver a turret.

Man…it's been a while since I've been inside…

Stretching a bit to prep he can see a red form coming closer. Well, they should check that the fire exit is safe. He spins on his heel, hands grabbing the handle and inside they go.

Shit, it's a mine.

Chapter Text

The stale scent filters through as he kicks up some dust. There's a low hum in the air, as the place itself recognizes an intruder. Thankfully no turrets, so he can post up and wait. But waiting means sitting with his thoughts so he scratches that as fast as it came. The hall to the left feels unwelcoming, call it a gut feeling, so he rolls to the right to see if he's lucky with any scrap. Just then the door slams open, causing him to jump about a foot up.

Ratchet stood there, breathing hard and standing stiffly. He can feel the rage matching the red of her suit. Oops, yeah.

“You daft idiot!" She shouts, stepping in with a finger up, "First! You don't go alone, especially to the fire exit! Second! You missed everything Captain said!”

Right, the debrief, he normally doesn't listen. Then again he's not normally involved. She lets go of the door and marches straight at him, fists to her side. Her anger had the shorter man rooted to the spot, feet tripping over each other when she sharply pushed his chest. Rook's back hit the wall as they shrink back, he really shouldn't have done that to her.

The raging red woman sucks in a breath, probably going to just lay into him but she sighs heavily and pulls back, rubbing her visor stiffly. He's confused that she stepped back yet words tumble faster than he could process them, “Sorry..I…I didn't think-”

“No! You didn't! I can only get you out of trouble if you stay near me in here. This is why you end up staying in the ship, this shit will get you killed.” 

Ratchet turns and kicks a rock with a growl, her back to him. Her body stood tense and rigid but words spoken had more worry than anger laced through them. She throws open the door and leans over as his thoughts crowd his mind. His behavior could have left them all scrambling again so soon after Leaf leaving. What poor judgement for someone who's been on the team since the beginning. Guilt pulls at his heart making him rub the back of his head and look away.

Reckless.

Shut up!

Rubbing his arm nervously he steps closer, “Hey, um..sorry for..running off.”

A sharp turn says that she's still mad, a pack suddenly manifesting in the air coming at him. It nearly fell to the ground since he wasn't expecting it. Juggling the uneven bag before gripping the straps he is confused.

“At bare minimum bring your shit.” She huffs, walking back to him and squeezing his shoulder. Her grip isn't tight, more calm. Purple looks down and sure enough, his walkie and flashlight along with a spray can are in the bag. Oh he really was stupid there. They forgot everything.

“I'll give you the sparknotes so gear up.” Ratchet returns to a discarded caution sign and straps up while Rook does the same. Walkie clicks into place as does the flashlight. They’re both charged, she really covered his ass there.

“My color is away from the exit, you have the return can. The Company wants something with Maneaters, eggs or bodies, I don't know. I lost track because someone threw themselves full dick into danger.” She pauses as she tests her spray can, squiggling on the wall. 

“Scrap is secondary but do not run off on me. I swear I'll have to leash your ass if you run off.” At the end her tone softened but he knows she's still not pleased. Despite that he flushes at the thought, chewing on his lip. Don't say it, don't say it. Don't-

“Just a leash?” Damnit.

Her helmet visor snaps at him and he holds his hands up in surrender. Yeah he'll shut up about that. She gestures at him, oh right. Walking to the left hallway he marks it with an X.

“Why is that one already dead?”

“I don't know...but my gut says not too so I'm not going to check.” He caps the can as he slides it back into his pack. Rook's felt things like this before, the accuracy of these feelings is up to debate but he's not taking chances. There's an odd feeling in the air from her but she shrugs, “Lead the way then Spidey.”

_-_-_

Being the leader is fun.

At least it was.

Said purple man loses the leading position quickly when he misses the sounds of a Thumper charging down a hall. Tall, strong and red had grabbed him out of harm's way like he weighed nothing and killed it with him draped over her shoulder. When he wasn't immediately deposited back on the ground he thought to question her. The words never came, after all she put him up there and he has no plans of getting down anytime soon.

She doesn't complain, shifting Rook occasionally to harvest scrap and make him mark walls with paint. After a couple rooms the pair comes to one of the waterways. He sees it when red turns around, “Afraid I'd make you wet?”

He snickers while she huffs, he can feel her head shake against their side. Red hikes him up onto her shoulder better and rests a hand on the small of his back. A finger hooks onto a belt loop and tugs on it until he protests with a soft 'hey’.

“You comfy up here little man?”

Blood rushes to his ears, was she flirting? No, maybe. He presses his hands against her back to try and pull himself free. Ratchet just pins her shorter crewmate in place and all he can do is ignore how hot it's making him, “Yeah weather's fantastic, I'm not upset about the view. Though could be better if you let me move.”

“Heh, what and not have my six covered? I thought you liked my ass.”

Hearing her out right say that catches them wildly off guard, “Fuck! Damnit.” 

She laughs a bit, moving to another room after marking a wall. He flops against her back with a huff, “Can you put me down?”

Ratchet pulls on his belt and places them on the ground. He crosses his arms and looks away, trying to calm down while not giving her the satisfaction of seeing just how much it got to them. There's a sympathetic chuff, “I'm having fun with you, not at you.”

Heat burns his ears, it's been hard to tell if she enjoys his attempts at flirting. The confirmation eases the embarrassment and the mood softens.

“Come on mister detective, anything off about this way?” She gestures to an offshoot while marking the room with a crossed out circle. Rook doesn't feel anything odd, other than some easily dispatched monsters and the Thumper it's been wholly uneventful.

“No seems safe. I guess.”

There's a nod but still her bloodied caution sign is held out. It's a dead-end with a hole off to the right. Piles of debris light up when scanned so they set to comb through it. Rook finds a clock and a toy fish. Some of the things they find make no sense.

“Oh neat, hey look.”

He turns expecting something big or sparkly but his heart drops. A toothless smile carved from porcelain laughs at them. Empty eye holes seem to swallow him whole, the playful expression morphing to malice.  It's a comedy mask just like…!!

“Weird, there's no Masked on this moon.” She muses, rubbing her chin. He stiffens when she begins investigating it further, heart pounding. Rook didn't know he moved until he slapped it from her hand. It clatters harmlessly away from them with purple breathing heavily. They stare at each other in shock.

“Don't!” The word came out louder than he wanted but every nerve is on high alert, shaking hands becoming fists. She’s silent as they continue, “Those aren't safe! Can't you hear it laughing?!”

To him it is laughing, a low knowing chuckle, taunting him that he can't escape what happened. He presses his hands against his helmet while turning away and snap kicking it across the room. It cracks against the wall and continues brokenly laughing at them. It's in his head, buried so deep he'll never dig it out. His mouth feels sticky and it only adds to his distress.

Can't run away. Finish it. 

“Whoa, Rook. Easy there. I..I don't hear anything," He turns sharply towards her, her hands raise to calm him. "It's ok, see? It's just a mask, scrap even. Harmless.”

“No! It's-!!” The argument is cut off by him seizing up, coughing hard as saliva chokes him. Watching Ratchet get up, but unable to hear her over the pressure in their head makes them flinch back. Words can't get past his teeth, he needs to get out. Dodging her outstretched hand he runs out quickly, ignoring the other’s call to return. 

Not safe, not safe.

Instinctively following the markers they left he ends up back at the room with the waterway. Ripping off their helmet Rook falls to his knees and retches. Blackened ichor taints the dirt between his hands and reminds him just how dangerous those damn masks are. Dirt and iron are all he can smell with each gasping breath, loud ringing pierces through his thundering heart. 

Dizzy but unwilling to remain around it he crawls to the water and almost dunks his head into the cold liquid. They want the taste gone, the reminder gone. Panting for air and needing to stop the room from spinning, Rook pulls himself against a wall. He presses against the rock wall, feeling the rough texture as his racing heart beat slowly eases. The wall crumbles as gloved fingers claw at the different colored bands of dirt. 

Fuck, why is that here?!

Balling up a fist he strikes the rock, yelping in pain but finding it oddly grounding. The only true relief is that the laughing stopped since running from the room but it's not enough to calm him down entirely. Rapid footsteps approach, gravel crunching underfoot. Their name is called so it's not an entity which is comforting. Not wanting anyone to see blackened tears or drool he puts his helmet back on just as Ratchet bursts into the room.

“Rook! Oh the stars.” She warily comes up to him, kneeling down. Guarded eyes stare through the tinted glass at her, they sit in silence that is only broken by his shaky breathing. Swallowing and half choking he lets his head knock against the wall, “Why can't anyone hear it?”

She doesn't answer his question, “I’m sorry for showing it to you. Are you calmer?”

Not feeling like they're drowning would be considered calmer, “I..I guess.”

That's the best he can offer, still too shaken up and seeing the grin every time he blinks. Ratchet settles next to him and touches his shoulder. He moves a bit to rest against her, helmets tapping together. Maybe ten minutes of quiet before he gets restless and wants to get moving. A hand catches his arm as he tries to get up, “I can still carry you. Just don't kick me, I don't need cleats in my dick.”

Rook laughs airily, getting to his feet and bending over when his head spins. Gentle hands rest on his back, concerned words muffled by near painful pulses against his ears. Ugh, maybe they should have stayed in the ship.

But he wouldn't have been able to stop her.

Slowly releasing a held breath Rook straightens up, “Please…don't fuck with those things. It acts like those monsters.” 

Red nods and gives him a little helmet tap, both breath deeply and exhale with reservation. After a moment to recollect himself the pair presses on down a corridor that's long and winding. 

A few more rooms and they make a trip back to the exit to deposit their scrap at the door. Ratchet radios out to check in with the groups while Rook gets distracted by noises down the X'd corridor. It wasn't so loud earlier, wonder what's down there.

“Stop.” The command is sharp and catches him midstep. He looks side to side realizing he had made it halfway down the hall. 

“Come back, we still have work to do. No one's seen a Maneater, no running off.”

He spins on his heel and returns without complaint, he hasn't gotten back his energy to be a smartass. Retreading their route they begin to split up to check new rooms. Rook had been looking for markers from the others but there's none to be found. They find the winding corridor from earlier and pick up where they had left off. He sees that it's past one pm now as the clock blinks for his attention. 

“You think the others are ok?” Ratchet ponders out loud.

“No news is good news. No screams for help.” Rook mumbles, his mood returning with each new stretch. He is starting to get puzzled how they haven't come across other markers. Where the hell are the others?

“Yeah, who do you think will find a Maneater first? I'd love to see Captain get it, but that means the newbie would have to pull double.”

“Do Maneaters even lay eggs? Only ever seen the baby bugs.” 

“Don't know.” Ratchet replies while maneuvering past a smaller opening in the walls. The tight corridor soon opens up to a large room, both scanning for anything. There's scrap around and nothing lights up red. Feeling safe they agree to split again with the promise of ignoring any masks. Rook had started in the far corner, stuffing more scrap into his bag. They pick through things pile by pile with the occasional scan. His progress stops near a hole in the wall as babbling drifts through on the breeze. A baby Maneater rolls out into the light. It looks at him and then eats the scrap in his hand. Oh no…

“Uh, Ratchet..?” He calls uncertainly over his shoulder as it crawls into his lap. He hears an equally uneasy 'yes?’.

“I don't think it's Captain who gets the Maneater.” The baby bug starts fussing because he's not giving it enough attention. Not wanting an angry adult he rocks it gently but feels really weird about it.

“Well damn.”

“I'm too young to be a mother!”

That got a chuckle out of her. He puts it down and stands as Ratchet radios the others.

“Guess who's the father?”

There's a chorus of calls that the purple crewmate can't focus on as the little thing toddles after him. It really had imprinted on him, oh boy.

Shake it.

The voice felt louder than normal, possibly because of the breakdown. Huffing and discounting the dangerous advice he has to pick it up again as Ratchet circles back. 

“Let's go back to the exit, I'll run our scrap and you enjoy being a new mom. I hear puberty's a bitch so don't let it happen.” While red's tone is joking, he is worried about that.

Thanks to their thorough marking the party of three is able to backtrack easily to the fire exit. Rook passes his full bag to her and watches the door close. 

Cool uh, yeah.

The baby fusses to be set free which he does so. It giggles and then darts away, making its voluntold parent jump before giving chase. The hapless crewmate tries to convince it to stay close by scooping it up but they keep wandering further and further away. Finally he is forced to walkie her, “Hey junior wanted to show me the place and refused to stay put.”

“Clearly takes after you.”

He fakes a disgraced gasp into the walkie, “Don't ever talk to me or my strange bug child again.”

“Rook, be careful. You're fast but monsters don't need to chase you. They just need to catch you.”

He scoffs at her worry, “The only things we've seen are dead now.”

She doesn't respond but the walkie drips with unamusement. Playing doting parent really isn't his style but he had to admit it's unreasonably cute. He picks it up a second to get his bearings. This doesn't look familiar.

Squeeze it! It's so cute!

His limbs react while he's distracted, an ear scathing scream comes from the tiny thing. Rook jumps and nearly drops it, hopping on a back foot before understanding he had squished it.

Shit! “Sorry, sorry there.” The now frazzled crewmate rocks the bug while flexing his ears to ease the pain. Its cries quiet down before cooing and demanding to be put down. The demand is followed and he rubs the back of neck, he can't get that distracted again. 

“Man I hope Ratchet comes back soon.” 

The bug continues to wander through rooms, dragging Rook unwillingly deeper into the mine and further from anyone. They don't get worried yet as the markers are still around so whenever this field trip is over they race back quick enough. Well that was the plan until he had picked up the bug again and looked around. 

“Are you getting us lost lil dude?”

Examining the room while the baby is giving him a break he sees it's one of the waterway rooms but there's no markers on any wall. In fact there's two waterways and several ways to go on land. Where is he?

“Hey, Big Lady?-” Words die to the sound of heavy thudding. Uh, what? Kicking off with his heel and twisting the human barely missed getting smashed by a Thumper. Scooping up the baby bug he points at the large monster, “Hey! Baby on board.”

Rook, be careful…

The monster roars and charges at him but Rook smoothly slides out of harm's way. They can keep up, it's like a Dog and those are fun to mess with. Being quick on his feet and sure of the ground has him hopping around and getting bold. His movements start getting fancy, dodge rolling when the beast gets too close.

You're fast…

“Haha, you couldn't hit me with an arm tied behind my back. I'm running circles around you.” 

But they don't need to chase you…

Another dodged charge leads to the baby fussing but he can't put it down yet. Trying to calm it he stands still for too long. His lapse in thought is rewarded with the monster slamming him back into the wall. The pain had him gasping as all the air in his lungs was forced out. It backs up, growling and watches Rook slump off the rock wall. He barely keeps himself from crumpling to the ground, staggering unsteadily. Air burns causing the man to cough hard, there's a distinct taste of iron.

They only need to catch you…

“Motherfucker…ow…”

Crying cuts through the pain, shit they dropped the baby. His head snaps towards the flailing bug as two things happen at once. They launch themself forward as the entity charges. His attempt to reach the baby is thwarted by blooming pain in his leg, causing him to yell out. Teeth have latched onto their left leg and start pulling him away from the wailing.

“Hey! Stop that!” He rolls onto his back and kicks the monster square in the face. It releases the man with a howl allowing him to scramble forward and snatch up the bug.

“Hey, hey, shhhh. Sorry.” Rocking it and skipping back from the Thumper gives him just enough room to think. He's losing options and stability. Dodging isn't an option and he can't keep up and hope to keep the equally dangerous toddler out of the way.

Shit what now?

A hissing snarl snaps him out of his thoughts, head lifting to see the half blinded Thumper coming at them. Kicking off on the back foot and spinning to the side to dodge another charge only brings pain. The sound of splashing water catches their attention. The waterway.

“Hope you like water little dude…”

'Grrrooaaah!’ 

The monster charges at the human with murderous intent. Having no other options he lunges for the hole, tucking the baby to his chest. The monster clips his boot but human meets water. Fuck! It's cold!

His helmet doesn't immediately fill with water as he sinks so he shallowly gasps from the cold. Shaking off the shock he starts swimming forward after ensuring he still has the bug. Claws fasten the little bug to his uniform, freeing up both arms. Rook doesn't get far before water starts to seep into his clothes and slowly fills his helmet. He has to press forward or risk dying. He also can't risk having the Maneater mature while he's stuck underwater. Panic fuels his efforts as less and less air is available. He takes a deep breath as it completely fills up but there's light above. Kicking as best he can with one leg down, Rook pulls himself up further with his arms. He breaks the surface, kicking and dragging himself out of the water. Shaky hands claw at the release of his helmet and it's thrown aside with a loud gasp. That was close!

The baby spits up water and begins to cry. The breathless man crawls away from the pool, flopping onto his back and patting the wailing bug. With every breath or cough bringing pain Rook cradles his aching ribs. Fuck that hurts, he doesn't remember anything cracking but each deep breath is a struggle. As he rubs away the pain his eyes adjust to the lower light. It's a huge cave, they can't see the ceiling in the gloom. Sitting up slowly he tries to comfort the Maneater, but it's inconsolable.

“Sorry bud, I don't have a way to dry you. I'm cold too.” He says while clicking his flashlight into the darkness and shaking water out of his hair. They spy something in the dark, a marker on a far wall so they radio out, “Is anyone around? I'm in a huge cave.”

All alone.

He turns back to the bug just as it snarls and sheds its carapace. The monster metamorphoses into a fully grown adult. Maneaters are strange, for a bug their shell looks more like rhino hide. Quills vibrate a strange rain-like sound as it stares down at a very squishy human, mandibles clicking.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire…

His energy is spent, as boundless as it is normally he has nothing left. The two stare, unmoving as if unsure of what's happening. Water drips onto his cheek before he finds words, “Hey, Maneater can mean a few different things. Maybe you can choose the 'not killing me’ option?”

Smooth.

It growls, standing over him like it's curtains for him. Rook waves his hands in front of him in panic, “Wait wait! Hey I'm a lot more fun alive than dead. I fucked up but kept you mostly safe.”

It bristles and hisses, lowering down with mouth opening to reveal needle-like fangs. Oh I'm so dead, that's not fair!

“Come on! We can work something out! I uh-!!” He tenses up as tears blind him with accompanying pain filled cry. The Maneater had shifted to pin him down with its middle limbs, pressing on his chest. Its bulky head tilts at the sounds he's making, now curious as claws dig through fabric and into flesh. 

“Fuck me that hurts!” He whines, gripping the claws and straining to remove them. His word choice might be poorly thought out as it latches its massive jaws around his throat. A terrified scream is cut off by the most conflicting sensation from his sensitive skin. Fear and excitement.

“I…I guess we're working something out?” Jaws tighten momentarily around his neck, silencing him. Held perfectly still claw tipped hands roam over fabric, slicing holes when it grips onto his limbs. Little pained sounds rumble into the back of his throat, the quills along the monster's back flex with each sound, “Normally I'd ask for dinner first.”

There's a low rumbling bellow before he is released, neck coated in something slick that is making his nerves ignite. Gasping from even a few rogue droplets of water the human is too lost to notice the entity move. Claws paw at his pants, growing impatient and biting into the thankfully loose material.

“Whoa, whoa! I'm not wearing edible anything!” They squeak as it starts yanking hard, shaking him like a chew toy. Growing frustrated it uses claws that help it make short work of his pants. He will never admit how hot that felt.

Stars, what's wrong with me?  

A lot.

Where the saliva touched his skin it was overwhelmingly pleasurable. Even just simple touches have him shivering. There's nothing on their files about drooling some sort of aphrodisiac.

Then again, it doesn't try to fuck you like this.

Trilling chitters pull his attention up and then back when something new is moving. Heat burns through him as he is dumbstruck at the Maneater's seventh limb. It's easily a foot long, thick and smooth. The tip has a y shaped slit which makes the egg claims more probable. He makes the most undignified sound when it opens up, thick fluid dripping out.

Well…it's not bloody tentacles…

The Maneater roughly knocks his head back and latches onto his neck again. They breathlessly moan, face burning from the delicious sensitivity. Nervous giggles mix in each shaky breath, “Not a-allowed to ssseee?”

His stomach squirms not being able to know what's happening. Fingers find the sinewy front limbs, hesitating when they shift but hold on tight when the middle pair of arms hook under his knees. The monster crouches, a deep bellow vibrating his chest making him squirm. Limbs shift to wrap around his thighs and lift his ass off the ground. The touch has him moaning despite feeling so exposed. 

“You're a terrible tea-gck!” Something thick and warm prods against cold skin leaving fluid behind. Rook struggles, not seeing is driving him crazy as the monster thrusts against his nethers. Each grinding thrust leaves him wanting, the lubricating fluid dripping over his ass. Unable to get words past the vice grip on his neck he whines needily, nails digging into tough hide.

Fluid pools onto his shaft, alighting nerves and leaving him breathless. Toes curl as his legs try to close, to grant some momentary relief but he's held firmly in place. Gasps and moans fill the empty room with the crewmate shaking from every touch. It's not enough friction to get him close but it's keeping the man suspended in building pleasure. The Maneater angles itself and prods at his slick hole.

“Fffgk…” The blunt tip presses against the tight ring, he exhales slowly to let go just enough for it to sink inside. The feeling of thick erotic lube turning every stolen inch into lust-crazed madness has him arching his back. It should hurt but all he can feel is pleasure, finally pushing him over the edge. A ragged howl accompanies body wracking shudders as wave after wave of intense release floods him. 

Every little move has him near trembling until it's fully sheathed inside. Thoughts are completely melted, nothing left but to hold on for the ride. The monster pulls out, pushing firmly back in. It pulses so strangely with each purposeful snap of the hips. It eases its vice grip on his neck, allowing all the little sounds and moans to flood out. Rook can't tell up from down just wants more.

After what feels like eternity the entity decides to rut hard into him. The man moans and struggles, his body buzzing in pleasure. Muddled words and pleas are punctuated with needy whines, ending in breathless gasps. It's overwhelming each little touch, from mandibles kneading into his neck to his skin rubbing against rough hide. It's electric. 

A new feeling brings him back just enough, a firmness being pushed deep inside. He nearly misses it with the rhythmic pulses. The man shakily pushes against the muscled thorax, “What hhhaa…what i-is that?”

The answer seems to be another pushed in between thrusts, gummed up gears trying to work out what is going on. The sound of the vibrating quills press against his ears, drowning out thoughts. It's so hard to think, so full. Full?

Eggs.

The monster doesn't show signs of slowing down, pinning his body against its own. Added friction has Rook screaming, all prior concern gone in an instant. Muscles clench and tighten from building pressure. He's going to burst! From what, they don't know!

Heated gasps morph into desperate screams, hands clawing at the beast above. Shifting his hips has the relentless thrusts rail into that sweet spot. Choking on his scream as the coil deep inside breaks. His body tries to curl up as he cums, painting his stomach white. Rolling waves have him clinging onto anything for support. 

The Maneater grunts, movements are getting unsteady. It slams its jaws around Rook's neck tighter than before, easily cutting off air. Eyes snap open in mixed panic, hands grasping at the mandibles. 

Fffuck! Fuck fuck damnit!

Eyes roll back when the lack of air mixes with intoxicating pleasure. The man's mouth opens and closes, trying so hard to make any sound. Each breath is hard fought but few earned, the edges of his vision fading. Through wool stuffed ears he can barely hear the chest shaking bellow as the Maneater hilts flush against his ass. Throbbing so deep Rook swears it's in his stomach as a flood of eggs are worked into his guts.

Just as he's about to pass out the bug releases him and sits up, rocking to get every egg nestled. The man gasps so hard he begins coughing, holding his neck delicately and twisting away. His throat burned and he spits viscous fluid that threatens to choke him further. When it finally started to settle he glared at the monster clearly enjoying the last moments of bliss. “Damn...hhgg bastard.”

His nerves are still so sensitive but that getting choked that hard was a bucket of ice on their mood. The monster chuffs at him, dropping him unceremoniously and moving away. Rook bites his lip with a shuddering breath, it's still too much. He flinches when a broad head presses against the side of his head, quills vibrating with satisfaction. He huffs and shivers when the jaws ghost against his neck before it moves away. The bug shakes itself and begins to walk off.

“Gonna fuck and run, rude.” Rook sighs and lays back down, way too drained to even attempt to move. Rocks clatter off to the side and the beast is gone, ambient sounds begin to press in. A heavy hand reaches up to his walkie, “R…Ratchet…”

It's quiet for a moment before it crackles to life, “You’re alive! I'm looking for you. Captain said he might know where you are. Where's the Maneater?”

“...Gone.”

There's a weighted pause, “...Ok…hang tight.”

The buzz cuts off and their hand falls limply onto their chest, making him flinch. He forgot about his injuries thanks to the jelly aphrodisiac. Thoughts swirl as he stared listlessly at the tiny rocks closest to him.

Move.

“No.” He growls but he does find himself putting his fist down to lift himself up. Soon he managed to get on his hands and knees, inching towards the water. Kneeling down they splash the water anywhere the fluid had touched. The task is surprisingly difficult, needing to stop when it brings him too close to the edge.

“Fffuck, hhaah..” 

Shifting to alleviate his injured leg, blood rushes to his face when his insides shift and an egg slips out. Carefully maneuvering to the side the man eyes the strange object. Looks like frog spawn which brings the desire to squish it. A hand lifts to follow the thought but he doesn't want to deal with more aphrodisiac effects. His thoughts are interrupted by heavy footsteps coming from somewhere behind him. 

“Rook!”

Perking up he twists back to see Ratchet jogging towards him, her weapon dripping with fresh blood. Her steps slow when she takes in his condition but said crewmate is too drained to feel any scrap of shame. She warily glances around before laying the sign down and stepping closer.

“Was that a Thumper?” His voice is scratchy as his teammate crouches down near him, examining the marks on his neck. “Uh, yeah. How?”

“Oh cool, I'm in this situation because of it.” He tenses with a shiver when she touches his shoulder. Not ready to be reduced to a moaning mess again he gingerly removes it. She rubs her fingers together and tilts her head at the thick goo, "What are you covered in?”

Concern oozes from her as she takes in everything, the discarded helmet and shredded uniform especially. He gives a shrug, blankly staring at the water's surface, “Some goo that's making everything feel like I'm going to cum. It's almost painful now.”

“Ok…not coming off easy?” Her tone is cautious but he can't see past the tint of her visor to read her better. Tired and becoming more aware of his pain the man's filter is gone, “No. I just got railed and nearly choked out by a notoriously murderous monster. I just want to go back and get these things out of me.” 

With that proclaimed they try to move but their legs are not responding well, weak and unstable as they brace against Ratchet. She tilts her head while holding him steady, she's saying something to herself but he can't parse it out.

“Things?... oh..” She must have seen the egg on his other side. An arm wraps around his waist and she lifts both of them up effortlessly. They remained interlaced until Rook felt sure footed. His leg flares up but he's off the ground and watches Ratchet pick up his helmet and her weapon. The man is caught off guard when she unzips her jacket and shrugs it off without removing her gear. Even with how he is currently feeling he gets a bit flustered while she ties the jacket sleeves around his waist. Now a bit more decent Ratchet crouches and sweeps him off his feet, leaving her 'bride' stunned and making the tiniest sounds from her touch. He can hear her chuckle to herself at his reaction, "Alright let's get you back.”

Chapter Text

Brooks learned a few things being paired with Captain. One, he's a bit of a hard ass with unusual views on his crewmates. He doesn't hide his low opinion of Bait but deflects the questions Brooks asked, stating he needs to pass his judgement to earn some answers. He does hint that the green suited employee can quite troublesome. Can be erratic and less than friendly. 'He can be quite the handful, so just tell me if there's any concerns. I try to help where I can.'

Citrus comes out unscathed with his remarks. ‘Middle of the pack’ was his judgement, does good work but hasn't stood out. What that means to a man like Captain is not understood or explained. Ratchet is clearly his second in command which didn't make sense as Rook's the tech, not to mention has been there since the beginning. Captain had dismissed Rook as second in command due to his fluctuating temperament. 

‘I need someone who commands attention to even the most unreasonable of employees.’ He had said which didn't sit neatly in the other's head. Are they really as troublesome as he's describing? Could be, it's easy to behave for a few days. There still seems to be more but as with everything else Brooks learned from the experienced man, he had more questions than answers. 

Honestly with the limited time interacting with everyone Ratchet fits the leadership role much better than Captain, she handles the people. Captain clearly handles the Company. Even as flawed as Fitz was, he really cared about everyone.

To a fatal degree.

Lost in thought while Captain talked on, blue had rubbed the worn leather zipper of his friend's hip pack. He missed his friends.

Two, he's surprisingly fast for the one without a weapon. Brooks had to lightly jog to keep up, nearly getting turned around a few times. The spray paint markers were a real lifesaver tracking after him. The highlight of these chases was Captain single-handedly killing a Snare Flea.

He had once again gone ahead, the other crewmate had paused to gulp down water. Liquid nearly wasted when a surprised shout echoes down the hall. Adrenaline aided in Brooks running through the tight corridor and as he rounded the corner he saw Captain ensnared by the monster. Before he could even ready the weapon to strike, the yellow suited man slammed his body against the rough rock hard enough to break the shell and sent the stunned bug sliding to the dirt floor. Brooks’ never seen anyone dislodge those by themselves before. His startled thoughts are interrupted by a sickening squelch of a steel toed boot absolutely caving in the Flea's head. The swiftness and brutality reinforced why he's in charge but that sound had Brooks recoiling with discomfort. He does not want to get on his bad side.

And three, being alone is his default choice but with this type of mission he had to take on a partner. Brooks suspects that he picked him to see why the Company had assigned him to their crew. The blue crewmate is confident in his skills but is clearly outranked in experience with the more difficult moons. He makes a note to hopefully pick Ratchet's brain about this…situation and whatever mission the crew is built around. He would have asked Rook since he's the terminal tech but he doesn't seem very forthcoming with information. 

_-_-_

So far their day was successful, several trips back to the door and just as many monster bodies left in their wake. Brooks isn't thrilled to be so blood thirsty but he won't repeat before. Yet despite the success, he felt like his every move was scrutinized from behind the worn helm of the other. 

He hopes the others are holding up alright.

Ratchet radioing that Rook found the larva had snapped him out of his disjointed thoughts and back into the situation at hand. He watches Captain get agitated, not understanding why the man was not pleased. A Maneater huh? The old crew never encountered what was described to Brooks earlier. An entity that you encounter in a larval state that can metamorphose into an adult if not handled well. Even without the full information he knows that Rook has a tall order to stay safe.

“Rook better not screw this up. Maneaters are territorial so rarely there's ever more than one in a location. Citrus’ pair would have been better but I can't control imprinting.” 

Brooks stared holes through the yellow man's skull, he couldn't grasp the casual disregard for others. Fitzgerald was unusual, yes, took most things that happened like a personal failure of himself. Blue doesn't know if he'll get used to this.

This is very different… wonder how the other two are doing. Haven't heard from Bait or Citrus…

“Focus, I can hear a spring neck.”

“Yessir.”

_-_-_

“We should…go back..” Bait protests while he stands outside a stream choked hall. He lost sight of Citrus who was feeling around for the valve. It's getting late and he wants to avoid dealing with dogs if they can. Why did he let Citrus pull him further into the maze of halls?

“After we check down this way we'll go back!” Came the reply deep in the hissing fog. Unease prickled up green's arms as his eyes swept from left to right. His shovel feels heavy in his grip, it's been fairly safe but he knows what can be here. The faint rustle of ferns and ghosts of eyes creep up on him in the dimly lit hall but are gone when he tries to focus on them. 

Brackens are rare on this moon but not unheard of. Nutcrackers have been reported but there's so few, it's the Coil-heads he's worried about since Rook got picked by the Maneater. He hates to be glad it wasn't either Citrus or himself. He's been able to avoid entangling Citrus into any recent unfortunate situations. 

It's been ok so far, bartered with a hoarder with some low grade scrap so they've left them be. They've made a few trips back with full packs, even saw Ratchet. Avoiding a few Fleas and the Slime that blocked their path was not difficult. For a day on Offense it's been easy…too easy. It's times like this that has him waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Shaking his head he growls in frustration, this is why he doesn't like lookout! His thoughts walk away and he loses focus. Glancing behind him there's still steam. Is he still there? Citrus didn't get taken while he wasn't paying attention was he? To quell the rising dread in his throat Bait raps the edge of the shovel on a pipe to ask for a response. 

“Almost there! I think I found it but it's kind of stuck.” Citrus calls out, making the other sigh in relief. Good. A sudden shriek of rusted metal has Bait dropping the shovel and gripping his helmet in agony, twisting away. A loud string of southern tinted expletives bounce off the silence after the rancid sound stops. The green crewmate slowly raises his head as the other fades into view.

“Jiminy that hurt. That was one helluva fuss for such a small thing...Y'alright?” Citrus was clapping off the slimy rust on his gloves while walking back to the other. Bait feels his heart in his ears still but when nothing else happens he nods. Stiffly reaching down for the shovel, green listens down the left corridor before straightening up. The darkness past the dimly lit ceiling light felt barely contained.

When Citrus prompts him again, asking if he's alright, Bait gives a 'so-so’ motion. He can't tell if he's hearing things or something is nearby. Orange leans forward to look into the darkness as well, “The longer we sit the more likely some critters will find us, come on.”

He tugs on the shovel to break Bait's train of thought, gesturing past the broken pipe. Reluctantly green relents and follows after him. Feeling watched has him feeling jumpier than normal, looking back over his shoulder occasionally. He loathes feeling this on edge for a moon that's not as dangerous as say, Titan, so why is he?

“There's a split path, I see a light to the left. Let's try that way.”

Oh…right..

He wasn't able to help Leaf and now he's paired with Citrus. At least the two work together pretty well, although the smaller crewmate can push their luck if he's certain that scrap is near. Like right now.

The narrow hall opens up into a cave with an inky black hole in the middle of the room, the room itself is a dead-end. Scanning the nearby area their visors light up with scrap. Citrus chuckles, “What'd I say?”

Bait frowns and squints at him but goes to one side to pick through things. Citrus methodically piles everything he finds off to the side to sort through which Bait joins in, combining their efforts. It left them with full pockets and a crate of bottles. The shorter man stuffs some light scrap into the crate before picking it all up.

“Neat! Let's go back-” He stops as the sound of footfalls catches both of their attention. Green jumps up and catches the Coil-head in the threshold of the room, its spring neck clanging loudly. Citrus keeps behind him but maintains eye contact as well. 

“We need to leave that way. What now?” He murmurs as the other rapidly lists off options in his head. It has to be lured in further so they can get around it, they can probably bait it to one side and exit through the other. He'll have to be the one watching since Citrus’ hands are full. Oh he hopes that nothing else decides to show up too. Waving a little to get orange's attention he grumbles, “Trust me…don't look.”

“What! Are yah crazy?!” Came the loud angry whisper from behind. Bait just returns a low throaty growl, he's got a plan just trust him. The other huffs, “Fine but don't get us killed.”

That hurt to hear but not unwarranted given the situation. Motioning for him to step back towards the wall, Bait blinks. A surprised yelp comes from Citrus as the entity dashes forward but is held in place just as fast.

Still too close to the door…

“Move.” He barks out, listening to the other shuffle aside. Blink, clang! It's much closer but the door is clear. Hollow eyes stare and follow them as Bait pushes a protesting man towards their only exit. He doesn't understand why he's being so unwilling, “Stop pushing, I can't run!”

Yeah but you can still move. Unable to give Citrus a sharp glare he simply bundles him through the narrow passage. The taller man lingers a moment to give the other a head start but he calls out, “Bait come on, don't stay behind!”

His focus lapsed for a split second, startled back by the Coil-head's approach. Walking backwards he meets up with Citrus who grabs his hand without warning. His uncomfortable hiss is ignored in favor of making him hold onto a strap so orange can get them both out. 

Bait kept his eyes glued to their six, trusting that Citrus’ markings were guiding them safely. The monster peers around the corner, hollow features taunting him. Every turn is punctuated with a rusty clang, sounding closer and closer. He tries to keep the space between them decent but the entity is clever as well. He doesn't notice that his lead stopped so jolts when their tanks collide, wondering what is going on.

“There's a Flea. Can ya deal? We'll swap.”

He shifts to the side to allow the other to take over staring down the murderous mannequin. When given a nod he spins on his heel to assess. Yup, big Snare Flea. He can just barely get at it. Bait swings up hard to dislodge it, forcing it to fall with a loud thump. It screes angrily at him but the man has no patience for this monster. He feels rapid taps at his hip but is too focused on the task at hand. Raising the shovel blade down he plunges it through the fold between plates. The sound of breaking carapace and squishy bits is skin crawling but after another strike it falls silent. Kicking it aside he turns to see the towering entity had stepped closer. Ice numbed his hands as his heart jumped into his throat.

He spins Citrus away who quickly sets off again after gathering up the crate, “I was watching it I swear! Darn thing moved when you struck the bug!”

That's not important, it's getting bored. Rounding a bend he hears an exclamation of excitement, “We're really close!”

Hurry.. He doesn't want to be cut off by a Slime or worse a second Coil-head. The small man runs forward and Bait has to follow much slower. Without Citrus his steps are less confident, shovel raised tip pointed in the monster's direction but it is not dissuaded. It keeps getting closer, watching him intently. There's a buzzing hum coming off it even when standing still. Citrus where are you? Suddenly he is half dragged away as the other grabs onto him tightly, “Let's go!”

Stumbling and pulled into the main room there's little time to pause as the towering monster stands at the threshold with a thunderous clang. The ding of the elevator alerts both of them and the two make a mad dash inside. There's a loud bang just as the doors shut but they're safe. Bait releases a breath he didn't know he was holding as Citrus laughed.

“Damn that was close! It was getting a bit froggy there. I should give Captain the heads up about it.”

A little warning flashes in the corner of Bait's visor, informing him there's a nearby electrical storm. It's not close enough to kill contact but might interfere with the walkies. Orange must have gotten the same message as he scoffs, “Well at least it's not a lightning storm.”

Bait sighs and leans against the wall, feeling suddenly exhausted. He got them out safely, but man that Coil Head got so close. Citrus sighs, “Still got to get to the ship, don't relax yet.”

Bait flinches and glares at him, signing with anger, “Why would you say that?”

“Shit, sorry. That was mean of me. You've done a real good job.” He rubs the side of his helmet. Bait rolls his eyes a bit and he straightens up, dusting his pants. He can't help but be a bit petty.

“That foot didn't taste real good did it?”

“Hey! I'm sorry, I phrased it wrong.” 

The door opens and they walk out and double check if anything was left behind even if they couldn't carry it yet. There's nothing on the scanners so they press on the outside. The door slams behind them, wind whistling and kicking sand against their uniform. Bait scans the area but nothing comes up. Citrus shifts closer to him, “Safe so far?”

“Yes.”

Moving quickly so Hawks don't spot them, Bait drops the shovel and makes his way down the ladder. Citrus waits to drop the crate down for him to catch before joining him. He takes the crate and motions for green to follow, keeping close to the cliffs. Bait keeps his eyes up to make sure they don't get jumped. There's only calls and sounds of conflict above but the entities remain out of sight. Honestly Bait's glad for it, he's not in the mood to deal with mobbing monsters.

Setting foot on the ship had them both sighing in relief. Safe and unharmed. As Citrus sets the crate down they both jump when Rook cries out from the back of the ship. Bait reacts first and jogs to the back where he finds Rook laying on a blanket on the floor face down and Ratchet hunched over him. She was pressing along his spine, making him wail as Bait noticed the nasty bruise forming. He then notes that Rook's down to his underwear and is now very confused. What in the nine moons?

“You're back isn't broken, you're lucky that the impact was on the canisters. Honestly I'm shocked your ribs aren't broken either.” She presses higher and Rook whines in pain. Bait knocks on the wall to alert them both, two heads looking towards him.

“Oh wonderful you're back! Captain and Brooks are getting a last scrap run and I'm dealing with this bonehead.” There's a weak protest from the injured crewmate under her hands but it's near inaudible. Bait takes a moment to understand what he was seeing.

Rook's a mess, more of a mess than normal. His left leg is bandaged at the calf with deep scratches lacing up his legs. The worst of it is on his upper legs and disappears under his underwear. The bruising on his back is extensive and vivid, shaped like the oxygen tanks.

Maneater…

Green cringes at the thought of what happened, he doesn't wish his experience on anyone but Rook isn't…unfamiliar with unusual encounters. Said man shifts and lifts his head, their neck just as bruised which makes Bait flinch back. 

“You lucky son of bitch didn't have to deal with that.” He groans before sinking back onto the floor. Ratchet pats his back, getting him to sit up so she can apply topical medicine to his injuries. Green rubs his neck uncomfortably seeing everything. Rook got caught by something extremely nasty for sure. He thinks it's not just a Maneater but doesn't want to ask, they have a mutual stance of don't ask questions you don't want the answers for.

“It's not super deep and should heal fine in a few days, you're not going inside tomorrow with that leg though.” She declares and dismisses Bait with a small wave, she's got this. Not needing to be told twice he returns to the front with Citrus fussing with his walkie. The nearby storm must be messing up a transmission, “I'm trying to warn Captain about that Spring neck but it's not getting through. Do you know how to check on them?”

Bait knows enough to swap the cams and types in Brooks. He's in a room with another blue dot and an unmoving red one. Swapping to Captain shows the same room, they are together and alive. 

“Oh good. Captain you there? I don't know if this'll get through but there's a Spring neck so watch yourselves.”

The dots move a bit closer before heading out the nearest hall. They appear to be moving towards the door. Now it's a waiting game since those two are the last ones. Rook's pained sounds echo into the front of the cabin which makes green wary of dogs. Turning towards the open door his attention is brought to the strange container from earlier. It's not empty anymore, in fact it's filled with eggs. A small pit opens in his stomach as Rook's injuries flash in his mind; he might not have survived the encounter if the roles were reversed. What a mess…

_-_-_

The other two don't take too long, choosing the fire exit to recollect the ladder. Bait watched them intently, wary that they might catch something's attention. Captain had them go by the pipe so they could avoid the pack of Dogs down by the cliffs. Walking to meet them at the rocks he catches the ladder and sets it up for them. Brooks comes down first, followed by Captain. Blue lingers as Yellow strides into the ship.

“Man he is rough to be paired with. I don't know if it's because I'm new.” He sighs, rubbing his helmet. Bait silently chuckles while signing, “Yeah he's... certainly rough.”

Brooks tilted his head and the realization struck Bait. He doesn't know signing does he…?

“I'm not super well versed in sign language. I can kinda read it but you're a little too fast for me.”

Bait fidgets with his gloves, chewing on his words. Brooks reaches out to touch his shoulder but he steps back instinctively. Both stare, unsure of how to proceed. Working up the courage first green takes his outstretched hand, “Ask please. Um… yeah, Captain can be a lot…”

Brooks glances at his held hand then back to Bait proper, “I'll remember that. How’d your run go?”

There's loud shouting from inside that jolts both of them. Down by the cliffs the Dogs snap to attention and start growling. Blue springs into action, releasing his hand and spinning on his heel.

“Well, great talk.” Brooks scoops up the ladder and ushers Bait to the ship. They climb in and close the door. Phew…

Brooks walked off to find out what that was all about as Bait unloads his gear. Charging both his and Citrus’ gear he nearly shocks himself when Ratchet snaps, “He's not going to get the ship up! Do it your damn self.”

"Alright, alright. Only asking him to do his job Ratchet." Captain comes grumbling into the front and starts typing into the computer. Bait wants to avoid the man’s ire so he slinks into the back without a sound. Ratchet puffs up thinking he’s the captain but deflates when it’s only little green. He questions what is happening, signs trailing off a little seeing that Rook looks a bit hollow. 

“Rook’s not going in tomorrow, no matter how some people feel! He’s just mad that it means pairs will be rearranged. I think you two should stick together but I’ll handle Brooks.” There’s a clear level of finality to her words as she helps the oddly quiet man into his bunk. The other three look between each other with a little unease but even Captain knows not to try to fight the mechanic. 

She presses past them once their injured crewmate is settled to the front of the cabin. Bait removes his helmet and sighs, relieved that he's not the one bed bound. Guilt nibbles at his thoughts almost immediately when Rook groans and rolls away from them. Brooks’ gaze lingers on him, fingers tapping at his helm in thought. Deciding not to be hostile to the attention green busies himself with getting more comfortable.

Citrus clings to the side of the upper bunk and asks if purple needs anything. He gets a gravely no and Bait dims the lights a bit. Sleep will come soon. 

There's whispered arguing up front but no one is brave enough to investigate. Choosing instead to get cleaned up or head straight to bed.

Tomorrow is another day.

Chapter Text

True to her word the group is split up with Bait and Citrus together again while she has Brooks. Rook was confined to the ship and didn't put up much fuss as he sat awkwardly at her work bench. Ratchet is double checking everyone's cameras since without them Rook's job is harder. Captain makes sure their gear is charged before handing it out.

“The spot we landed at had less cliffs and easier access to the doors but it's still Offense so don't let the change welcome a sense of ease. Watch your backs and if things get dicey radio out, gear is replaceable.” Ratchet warns, making Bait feel like she also feels like this day could be difficult. He feels someone behind him and catches Brooks' eye, who gives a strained smile. He might be intimidated to be paired with Ratchet but she's far more open to having a partner when it's called for.

The door opens and with shovel in hand he hops off the ship with Citrus, feeling eyes on his back but not looking back for who. Citrus suggests the main entrance since Ratchet will probably take the fire exit. Green nods and they pick their way up the slope to the door. Bait eyes the double doors warily, will today be like yesterday?

They're greeted to metal walls, metal ceiling and grated floors, oh boy it's a factory. His shoulders sag a bit, this is so easy to get lost in. Citrus however does not share his negative thoughts as he marks the left pathway for them. Captain will take the other if it's not a dead-end. 

“Come on, I want to get pretty far before the entities know we're here.” He says, turning through the doorway. The facility already feels hostile and they just barely started. Shaking his head and lifting his shovel he follows after Citrus.

It'll be fine, right?

_-_-_

Not fine! Not fine! 

It's as if the moon was angered that they hadn't suffered yesterday. A Hydrogere blocked off one of their paths a few rooms in, forcing them to backtrack and try another way. A mob of hoarder bugs got under foot as they combed over a room and they had to give the scrap up instead of deal with them. Webs hung thick as the two made their way further. Even Citrus didn't seem as confident, clicking his radio.

“Is it just me or is this facility more hostile than before?” There's some silence before Brooks responds, “Yeah, just dealt with a spider nest and a flea. Definitely a bit busier this time 'round.”

Citrus huffs, glancing back at Bait who is not thrilled. The walkie crackles to life, Rook's voice buzzes out, “I don't see anything nearby any of you currently. Anything alive that is.”

That is a relief however temporary it is. Citrus thanks Rook for the heads up and presses forward, asking if there's scrap. Bait stops listening when the pipes rattle above. It travels forward slowly and has his hackles rise. Ugh, there better not be a damn slime in the pipes…

“Bait! Come on!”

_-_-_

Brooks frowns at the very dead spider as Ratchet chucks the corpse over the railing. Clapping off webs and blood she looks his way. “You're not a big fan of this huh?”

“I manned the terminal often, didn't get too. Hands on. I had to rescue a friend from…” His voice trails off as she continues onto the room beyond. Both scan the room, there's some scrap so definitely going in the right direction. After splitting the pieces between them he huffs, “This crew is so different from my old crew. What's the deal exactly?”

His question hung heavy in the air as they walked. Ratchet looks back but he can't see her expression, “You tried to talk to Captain about it huh?”

Brooks didn't like having a question thrown back instead of an answer. Red pauses for a heart beat or two before nodding her head forward. He draws a bit closer to the taller woman. Why is everyone keeping everything so close to the chest?

“If you keep showing me what you got, I'll answer one question per. Need to know how capable you really are.” Her words aren't sharp like Captain's but still too vague for his liking. Blue sweeps his flashlight into a dark room past a set of stairs while the other checks downstairs. Cans hiss as the doorways are marked accordingly. 

“Ok, but I killed the spider so…uh..” He scratches the side of his head to think of how to phrase it, “How did this crew start?”

She looks up at him and gives a sigh, he's right. A question per proving action. With a hand wave for him to follow as she formulates an answer. Brooks takes the stairs two at a time to reach her and they walk over a catwalk. Going quiet to listen for entity movement she murmurs, “I don't remember how long it's been now but the reports say that due to unusual encounters the crew was formed.”

That's what Captain said so he feels like he's hitting a wall. They get to a larger room and there's a number of scrap pieces. Not bad, not enough to head back yet however.

“Bait had an encounter that left him…. profitable and the Company saw an opportunity. They called for Rook who's history was similar to Bait's. Captain, who had recently lost his crew, was reassigned to lead.”

Blue tilts his head at the tiptoeing around what exactly is happening. It's clearly bad but it isn't clicking yet. Sure Rook had an unusual encounter yesterday, leaving their body bruised… He stops in his tracks as the gears turn. Ratchet notices him stopping and turns towards him.

They were tasked with collecting monster materials. Tasked specifically with egg retrieval. 

Rook was imprinted on by the monster in question. Captain was disappointed that it wasn't Citrus’ group that had been imprinted on because the results would have been better. Better results from what?

Rook was left in such bad shape but alive, entities don't leave employees alive. Blue is very aware of what entities typically do to crewmates but they were beaten to hell but breathing. That was not typical behavior. 

The normally bouncy man's movements were stiff and unsettled. It didn't quite match up with the visible injuries as his leg didn't look that bad. 

“Wait…” His gaze fell to the floor as something from yesterday played in his mind. Bait flinched away from his hand, requesting that he ask for permission. It was a little odd but if he's been touched against his will. Ratchet shifts, waiting for him to get to the reality of it.

“Are they getting…” The word gets stuck in his throat and it clicks why it's been danced around. It's not comfortable to admit that monsters take that kind of interest in you. Honestly it feels worse than the idea of being killed. How could you even begin to ask for help?

“He's been raped by them? Both of them have?” The questions are less inquiring and more accusing. Anger simmers at the thought that at least a third of the crew has to bear such a reality. Captain was so dismissive of the two which made no sense! Was that what he was implying to when he said Citrus hadn't stood out?! 

Ratchet's shoulders fell watching him struggle with it. Checking behind herself and him she sighs, “Why do you think he's called Bait…?”

Again with the question back but stripping it bare, exposing the wounds bore by them has him gritting his teeth. He drops his weapon and snatches her suit, yanking her forward and glaring past her visor.

“And you just let it happen?!” He didn't expect this rage in his voice for unfamiliar people but here he stood. At this angle he can see her expression is sad as she easily removes his hands. He doesn't fight being removed from her person, feeling numb.

“Unfortunately with their circumstances this is the best I can do. The Company approves, why do you think they're here? I give the support I can when things happen but I can't stop what's going on. You need to talk to them. I'm not going to talk for them.”

He stares at his own trembling fingers, unable to process anything. What if Reid had been in that position? Or Ward, even Mendez? What would he have done? What could he have done? Would it have put them in more danger to have it known? 

Great assets are used properly. The Company knows. 

They know what happened and still decided to put Bait and Rook on a new crew to see the extent of whatever is going on. Ratchet doesn't seem to be alluding to her being in that category nor Captain but Citrus is. Is half the crew monster guinea pigs and the other to actually handle running the ship?

So many questions, no wonder she set the rule so quickly. He still broke it but now he understands what he's been brought into. No wonder Bait has such vitriol against his name, it's a constant reminder of what he is to those in charge. 

“I'm sorry that I have to cut your spiraling short but we need to move. We're way too vulnerable on the catwalks.”

A withering glare is thrown her way but Brooks forces his body to move. He picks up his weapon and begrudgingly follows her. His thoughts are suffocating as he tears through all his interactions with the others. A hand shakes his shoulder and snaps him back into the present, “Brooks, you can't fall into your head. It won't help.” 

Squaring his jaw and meeting her gaze they remain silent for what feels like eternity, “Fine. But I'm not going to just ignore it though.”

“Good, they both need people in their corners. But don't be surprised if he gets cagey though. Bait can be unreliable and flighty.” Red pats his shoulder and they settle into a silence. Brooks felt conflicted still but he's got a job to do. 

“Hey, there's movement ahead of you two. Stay sharp.”

“Thanks Rook, how's the others?”

“Captain is dropping stuff at the door and…. Something is in the room with the other two.”

_-_-_

The creaking groans had Bait paranoid, it's been following them he's certain. Citrus had wandered forward to rummage through the lockers but green was too distracted. 

“We’ll head back soon. Hey, you alright-!!”

The pipe above screamed and burst, thick blue spraying down. Both jump back but the monster is pooling between them. Citrus presses against the wall and tries to keep away as the large Hydrogere pours out. Bait snaps his gaze up as there's a cracking groan, “Citrus!”

The pipe breaks more and covers the smallest crewmate in blue goo. He shouts and tries to throw as much of the monster off of him while it's still dazed. Bait eyes the mess and back to the other who is not having a good time removing the sticky entity. Biting his cheek he reaches down and pokes at the living slurpee. The membrane vibrates at the touch and inches towards him. Growls come from the other as a fist full of Hydrogere is thrown violently against the wall behind him. It slides limply down the wall and lands with a ‘plap’.

“Fuck! Get off!” Citrus snarls and another glob splat wetly against the wall. Bait has to duck to avoid being nailed in the face by another flailed piece.

“Citrus! Calm down you're going to hit me.” Bait snaps, making orange freeze and stare at him. He had lured the Hydrogere away enough to get to him. Citrus is shaking like a wet dog, looking up at the other for help, “I…I hate these things.”

Green busies himself with peeling off the last of the damn slime. The smaller man turns away and shivers, “Sorry…”

Green pats his back and signs that he'll deal with it. With a shuddering nod from orange Bait sets to luring the large blob away from the other. Leaving the shovel behind as he aggravates the glob, pulling on it occasionally so it doesn't double back to the stunned crewmate. Stepping slowly and glancing back to watch his step, he manages to lure it into a dead-end room down the hall. Strafing around it and pulling the room closed. Clapping his hands and heading back to Citrus who is leaning heavily on the doorway.

“Thanks, I…ughhh.”

Bait pats his head, understanding. 

“Let's uh, let's head back. I got the shovel.” He mumbles and moves past green to take the lead. There's nothing to say as they move through cleared out rooms. 

Finding themselves at a point that splits they pause, they didn't go down the left path. Citrus doesn't seem to want to go yet, striding past it without stopping but Bait lingers. He can hear something but can't tell from where. Going to the open threshold he peeks into the blackened hallway. The sound gets closer.

“Bait, come on. We…I just want a moment outside.” He complains loudly, clearly not liking the situation of yesterday reversed as Bait is pushing their luck. Scanning the hall lights up a mine down the right path but straight ahead looks clear. Rapid footfalls round the corner that the two come from. 

“Shit! Behind you!” Citrus shouts, stopping the Coil-head right at the split. Bait stares at the towering monster, glancing at orange as the monster slowly turns to face him. Citrus must have also looked away as well since it steps forward, cutting green off entirely and forcing him towards the unexplored area. Both snap to attention but there's no way he can get back to the smaller crewmate now. The buzzing echoes out the metal walls, pressing against his ears.

“Damnit, run!”

He doesn't need to be told twice, spinning around and hauling ass down the hall. He needs to get as much distance between them as possible before Citrus is forced to break line of sight. Turning a corner and taking stairs down two at a time he hears a faint slam of a door and knows it's after him. He doesn't have a lot of time as he can feel the entity baring down on him. Ripping open a door he finds himself in a factory room, if he's not careful he'll fall.

Jumping over a hole in the floor he picks the left path, not looking back until he has to squeeze past a storage rack. The monster stops with a sound that reverberates off the open room. Bait stares as long as he can, holding the railing so he doesn't fall down a hole. He can hear it moving, taunting him as he has to look away to keep running. The halls split off in multiple ways so he picks one at random, praying it doesn't lead to a dead-end. It's so dark now he can't see five feet ahead of him.

The lost crewmate jumps from the sound of pursuit, turning around and scanning for the Coil-head. Not getting cornered is his main concern but anytime he looks away the clank of its neck has him snapping back to stare it down. Breathing grows tight as his mind panics, he can't plan an escape if he can't see behind him! Eventually his back hit a wall, startling him enough to glance to the side. There's a door an arm’s length away and it's open.

'Clank’

Bait jolts and shakes, slowly inching towards the door while keeping eye contact. When his hand meets open air he whips inside and slams the door shut. Pressing his weight against the door he prays it can't get through.

'Clank’

Glass rains down over him, daring him to look up. Peering through a fogging visor he is greeted to a mannequin forehead smashed against the glass. Hollowed sockets bore into his shaking form, chiseled mouth eerily wearing the ghost of a smile. Even captive Coil-heads are menacing, he crouches lower against the door. The impact from a kick nearly knocked him off his feet. When he gathers up the courage to look up again the monster is gone. 

Honestly that's scarier. 

He turns around to get a look at where he ended up. There's another way out straight ahead. Bait gets to his feet and shakes glass shards off himself as he tentatively moves forward. He glances back expecting to see hollow sockets staring back at him. There's only a broken window and the blackness past it. Having no choice but to move on he peers into the new area and listens, hoping that he wasn't about to be flanked by the impossibly fast entity.

Moving down the hall he flashes his light occasionally down offshoots. The light doesn't get far but even in the faded light Bait starts to spy webs. Progress pauses as he looks forward to more threads.

A spider.

Grrrreat…

He has half a mind to go back out and deal with the Coil-head than deal with a bunker spider. Sure, he's dealt with the entity once before and is still plagued by nightmares over it. Weighing his options he finds himself moving forward. The small crewmate slowly picks his way over the webs. With each avoided patch he feels more confident in getting out safely. 

That hope burns out as his helmet gets tangled up in a thick swath he hadn't noticed. A startled yelp followed by panicked pawing at the sticky threads deafened him to the predator's approach. Bait feels a weight ram into him and sends him to the floor. Turning over and barely seeing through the visor his heart jumps into his throat. 

That pause allowed the monster to pin him in place with spiky limbs stabbing through his pant legs. A scream comes from Bait as he's dragged forward. The beast lifts itself into the air and spins thread around the struggling crewmate til his arms are completely pinned across his chest. Feels like the stickiest straitjacket, with one murderous warden.

Is he going to die here? Or worse…

An eerie calm settles over him, it unsettles him deeply. Survival instincts take over him as legs kick out sharply, striking something that crunches slightly under boot. An angry scree comes from the monster above and he slips from its grasp. Victory is short lived as inch by inch he is lifted back up by the chittering entity. 

The sound of a second entity charging down the hall reaches his ears. Just as he thought he'd be hit, the spider screeches in rage and drops Bait. The ground was not forgiving, his shoulder blooming in pain from impact. The little crewmate wastes no time in struggling to his feet. Still trapped but unwilling to remain in the spider's web he runs away as whatever is attacking the spider continues. Halls blur past him as he sets out to get as much distance between him and that damn monster mash.

He can only see out a small window of unwebbed visor, making his progress slow once the adrenaline wears off. Leaning against a wall to rest leaves him half stuck every time. Shoulders ache from hitting corners and forcing doors open on top of the throbbing pain from landing on it. Bait knocks his helmet against the wall, groaning internally. He can't wiggle a hand free to send out a call for help. Trying to twist his body to hit the button feels fruitless, very little sound seems to escape the thick webbing. Frustrated whines slip out as he rocks his head side to side. He can't escape this silky straitjacket alone and he got separated from Citrus because of that Coil-head. A loud crash from somewhere near brings his mind back, he needs to find someone. Left like this is just asking for trouble and he'd like to avoid more. He turns to see a threshold and takes a step forward.

His boot steps into something thick and cold. Fear grips him as the Hydrogere wraps around his limbs, it's a smaller blob but he can't pull it off. Kicking and trying desperately to free his hands lets the slime continue to climb his legs. It presses for weak spots as some pools into his clothes through the tears. It's numbing and cold.

No! Nonono! Bait growls, shaking his leg with the attempt to dislodge it. The heat seeking blob is undeterred by his sluggish movements and engulfs his lower half after some effort. The fabric presses against Bait's hips as it looks for a way through. Engulfed up to the belt he is stunned when the band goes slack, looking down it appears the slime destroyed the buckle somehow. His pants go slack and he's swarmed by vibrating ooze. The fabric slides down his thighs as the persistent jelly violates his sensitive skin. Whimpers and moans leave him dazed, giving a few more shaky kicks before feeling too off balance. Breath hitches as he feels a tingling tendril slide between his cheeks.

“S-stop! No!” He cries out while his arms strain against his restraints frantically. It circles around the tensed hole, testing with a little pressure. A whole body shudder wracks him as the Hydrogere pushes inside. Bait brings his knees closer together to try in vain to stop the pulsating goo hugging around his length. Skin that didn't go numb buzzed from the touch.

“..nn..hhaahh…nng….” Each breath slowly gets labored as the malleable ooze inches deeper. His insides slowly filling while being rubbed and rolled against by unyielding force. The man bites his lip and shivers, it feels good which is the last thing he wants to admit. The slow pulsing ooze stretches his limit but the numbing effect dampens any pain so starts to unravel. The slime around his hips squeezes his nethers in time with each shift inside. A tight gasp slips out while electric shivers race down his spine, it's too much. Hips unwillingly buck into contracting slime, itching for just something more. 

A slow creeping sensation of a tendril climbing under his clothes has him moaning. It slowly wraps around his neck searching to breach into his helmet.

“St…stay out!” 

Eyes flit around in the low light filtering into the rapidly claustrophobic space. Slime balloons under the collar of the helmet and caresses under his chin. He squeezes his eyes shut with a shivering whine. The Hydrogere rolls its whole body from top to bottom, making the tightening coil inside Bait impossible to ignore. His body tenses and curls up as he cums into the greedy little slime. Trying and failing to keep his moans down, his mouth is invaded. The sour taste has him recoiling while legs tremble from a crashing orgasm. Bait slowly sinks to his knees as he's forced to ride the high.

He's fully ensnared and at the mercy of the Hydrogere as more and more settle in his guts. His insides feel heavy and just so sensitive. He arches his back as inner buttons get rolled over.

I need a minute..n…

Thoughts jumble and slush together as his mouth is released in favor of exploring the sweaty heated face. Tingling tentacles curl under his chin, making the captive man shake and mewl. It pulses from tip to tip feeding off the vibrations and heat. Inside the monster thrusts around eager to get more from its plaything. Moans build with each twist and touch, lighting his nerves on fire. Sinking further onto the floor with a ragged scream he cums again. His head is spinning, unable to see leaves every touch more intense than the last. 

‘No more, too much’ repeats in his thoughts but as much as his captor wants to be a part of him it's not telepathic. The floor comes up to meet him, small body arching off it with every abuse of his inner buttons. Every touch that set his nerves alight pulled ragged moans from his raw throat. His words reduced to babbling, begging for mercy. The entrapped human twists and rolls on to his side, sweat matted hair pressing against his temple. His legs felt like the jelly that was buried deep inside. He tried to prop himself up a little on his knees but all he managed to do was tuck his knees under his chest. Moving felt impossible and the shifting had him on edge.

“Ff…fffck…n..no moore…” He pleads, unable to stop drooling. His head is swirling with the monster pulses rhythmically inside, unbothered by its human struggling. His breath hitches slightly when it constricts around his throat. He feels everything and nothing at the same time. It's overwhelming.

A weak breathy moan proceeds another orgasm, reality starting to slip. 

Chapter Text

He didn't know how long he'd been held, stuck on the floor, his strength milked dry. He had lost count on how many times he was made to cum. Tired legs squeeze together before kicking out in weak frustration, wanting the slime to go away. Incoherent words spill out of him, his body stuffed full of slime.

The Hydrogere eased its movements after forcing him to orgasm again and there was just nothing, he's completely tapped. It slowly slides out of its captive, seemingly stated and retreating to bother someone else but leaves behind a small portion. Now freed from most of the slime, he becomes aware of how sore he is. Sure his skin is numb but his muscles are sore from tensing and thrashing. There's a low ache in his head, possibly from gritting his teeth so much. 

After what felt like an hour he managed to sit up. Shivers crawl up his body as fried nerves overreact to every move. Muscles ache with dull pain, threatening to cramp up on him.

“Fff…”

The entity left behind pulsed deep inside him, what an odd sensation. Certainly wasn't helping the absolute overload he was feeling. The exhausted crewmate tries to get his pants a little higher than his knees but it's fruitless. Giving up to focus on his arms, the webs look a bit wet. Tugging at the webbing gives just enough leeway to fiddle with the walkie. He clicks it a few times as he works up what words to say.

Would it even pick up his call for help?

‘....t?’

What?

“Bait?”

That sounds like Brooks, he squirms and tries to loosen the walkie but it's stuck fast. He clicks it, “...Brooks..?”

His voice is hoarse and scratchy, barely a whisper. Pushing himself a bit, Bait shakily gets back up onto his feet. Unsteady doesn't cover how he feels. His mind wanders a little, how long has it been? The world sways a little, forcing him to lean against the wall.

“Bait, Rook reports your camera is covered. Are you ok? Citrus said you two got separated.”

Bait clicks the radio, “..H…Help..”

His hand releases the walkie as he focuses on not sinking back down onto the floor. There's a faint click and a long static pause.

“I'm coming to find you.”

_-_

'tmp tmp tmp.’

Sounds catch an ear, tired eyes open slowly and glance towards it. He can't get a good look down the hall with the silk blocking his view. Shaky legs adjust his position as he squints.

'tmp tmp…tmptmptmp.’

Brooks?

'tmptmptmp.’

He's momentarily distracted by the damn Hydrogere pulsing inside, making him hunch over. Bait gives a breathy frustrated moan, shaking his head as he looks up.

'Clank!’

Sockets leer at him from around the corner of the room. It found him.

The Coil-head is back. He's way too exhausted to deal with this monster even as adrenaline rushes into his sore limbs. Licking his cracked lips while trying to think of anything he glances away for just a second. He snaps back quickly and shrinks back with the monster towering over him. 

He didn't dare look away, inching slowly to the side to avoid being cornered. However every move sent static up his nerves, he knows he can't get far. The head follows his line of sight eerily as if it knows he is easy prey. Loose pants trip him up and in that moment of panic was his undoing. He is harshly slammed into from the side. 

The monster keeps his limited vision off of it and pins him chest first against the wall with a leg firmly between the humans. Bent nails dig into sensitive skin making Bait whine and curse. The entity leans on Bait's shoulder, forcing him to shift down and back till only his chest presses against the wall. With his ass halfway up the marred thigh something prods a slick cheek. 

“N-no more…” He breathes, knowing that it's falling on no ears. The Hydrogere moves inside him with excitement, feeling his heart rate rising. Trapped between the wall and a hard place Bait can't escape the hard shaft that presses against his thoroughly worked hole. 

“Don't-! Nngh!”

One smooth motion he is hilted to the hips. A string of expletives proceeds the low clank from a spring neck. Bait's knees feel weak but he's pinned in place by the immovable force. Excited slime pulses around the twisted shaft, at least it was slick.

The moment of relishing in a warm body ended with a vibrating buzz and explosive thrusts. Its little crewmate starts screaming, pressing his head against the wall to anchor himself against this wild ride. 

“F-ck..damnit…slow d-own!” He whines, eyes rolling as everything crashes down around him. Nerves are oh so sensitive from that cheeky Hydrogere that had been edging him. Now all he can do is fight the losing battle of staving off the building pressure. Legs shake and start to give just a little but he's forced closer to the wall to keep him level. Bent nails bite into his skin and make him squirm in discomfort. Wild thrusting and spiraling pulses tighten his stomach further.

N…o.. no more.. Can he even orgasm anymore? Moans build in pitch, toes curling as he cums around the tag teaming entities. Apparently so. Muscles spasm while his mind swirls. He doesn't want to be seen in the middle of this mess. 

His legs finally give and he slides into a heap on the floor, making a ragged sound after the feeling of sudden emptiness. Frustrated vibrating buzzes around him but he really doesn't have the strength anymore. Bait and the floor were getting real acquainted this trip. A foot prods him, soon forcing his hips up by painfully poking until he complies. The foot moves and there's silence for a moment before a loud thunk rings out to his right, knees settling on either side of his own. The webs keep him still as the Coil-head repositions and slams back inside like he hasn't just collapsed. A breathless howl is ripped out of him as his insides are reamed. The entity shifts mid thrust like it had sensed something, pausing for a heart beat and only doubling its efforts. Clearly wanting to finish what it started.

Bait was mewling weakly and squirming, every thrust felt more than the last. He wanted to rest, he's so tired. There's a little clink from the helmet tapping against the wall from the heavy thrusts.

The slime inside rolled against his inner buttons, trying to milk more sounds. The shivering pressure feels so daunting yet distant like his body was waving the flag. Could it force yet another orgasm out of him?

High pitched whines follow sloppy deep thrusts, it must be edging at the end. The sore coil in his stomach clenches from the constant rubbing. An exhausted cry follows the last body wracking wave crash. Twisting and tightening around the shaft buried deep seems to finally push the monster over the edge. Slamming as deep as possible it paints its prey's insides.

Heat settles in his system as the Coil-head thrusts shallowly, enjoying the last few moments. Each little thrust pumps its seed into his battered guts. There's a breathless protesting whine, he wants it to be over. It and the Hydrogere slide out, finally freeing the overstimulated little human. Bait flops onto his side into a panting mess. He almost misses the entity running away if he hadn't felt the vibrations.

He's left alone, exhausted doesn't even begin to cover how he's feeling anymore. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he wished to just sink through the floor. 

Bait lays there not having any energy to move or get more comfortable. His mind buzzes with thoughts he can't parse through. Time is not kept as his eyes won't focus on the numbers in the corner of his visor. It could've been five minutes or an hour before he feels a presence in the room. 

____

Brooks had been slowly guided by Rook closer to Bait, dodging mines and two turrets while doing so. This area is wide and open compared to the low piped hallways that brought him here. When he comes across a pulped spider Rook advises him to go past it and just follow the hall. Loud footsteps echo down from the darkened offshoot to his right but Rook informs him it's not coming after him.

Rounding a corner the path opens up a bit to a room with a second level. Glancing around he sees green towards the other side of the room. Cautiously approaching realizes that he's found Bait and he's in a bad state.

What happened..?

Not wanting to broadcast too much to Rook, he covers the camera and moves closer to the prone form. He notices first that the crewmate's pants are around his ankles with bruises forming on his legs. A pit opens in his stomach, he didn't think he'd be face to face with this so soon. Labored breathing and tiny strained sounds from the other remind him he needs to act not get caught up in his mind. Examining further he understands that Bait is also wrapped tightly in webbing that's fairly frayed but still intact. He'll have to be careful not to hurt him more while cutting him free. 

Unsure of where to start, Brooks gently touches Bait's knee to make him aware of him. There's a sharp intake as green flinches and tucks his legs closer to himself, “...p..please….no…” 

The voice is so quiet, it's clear he doesn't know who is there. Brooks removes his hand quickly and moves to kneel near his head. The inside of the other's visor is entirely fogged and almost completely entangled by silk, can he even see?

“I told you I'd find you.” Brooks’ words are soft as he watches the web-covered helmet lift with recognition, “Brooks?” 

There's shocked relief in his voice before his head falls back to the floor with a thud. Blue didn't expect him to speak but hearing his name spoken so softly made him feel something. Shaking that thought away he crouches closer and pulls his knife out.

“I'm going to cut you free, don't move.” He warns while rolling the edge of the threads back to get an access point. Bait just makes a small sound at being touched but lays still for him, not like he has much choice. The knife cuts through the sticky silk like butter, Brooks notes that it feels like gauze with how packed it is. 

The tension on Bait's arms loosens with each cut and soon he is freed from it. However his body still refuses to move much. Some uneasiness crawls up his spine when it clicks that his pants are still down. While Brooks carefully cuts the webs around his head Bait slowly pulls his pants back on. The belt is completely toast but it's comforting to be clothed again. He hopes Brooks doesn't ask questions, he's not…in the mood to talk much.

“Alright I got it all cut here let me help you up. Can I have an arm?” Hands take hold of the offered arm and Brooks pulls him up into a sitting position, “You ok? Well…that was dumb to say, does this hurt?”

His concern has Bait feeling funny but he doesn't let the thought settle. He slightly shakes his head as Brooks works at removing the webs. Once finally free Brooks leans back to make sure everything is actually gone. 

“Alright, it's all gone. I can handle your gear but let's get you out of here.”

Bait perks up and looks at him with confusion. He pulls on his jacket sleeve and shakes his head with a displeased sound. Despite knowing he doesn't have the ability to walk out he doesn't like being alone with Rook after encounters. Honestly he's been acting really weird around him when they're alone. Again.

“What? You don't get along?” Brooks jokes softly, earning a shaky shoulder punch. 

“You're in no shape to get out on your own feet. Citrus, Ratchet and I won't take long.” Brooks reassures, reaching to his walkie.

“Rook can you get Bait,” He hates saying that, “...out of here?”

Bait still doesn't like having to go back, but Brooks isn't wrong. His body is still so on edge so he truly can't just walk out. 

“Yeah, I can.” Rook's tone might be garbled by the walkie but it sounds a bit off. Brooks nods and sighs, bringing his knees up and hanging his arms off his knees. After a moment of thought his head falls back against the wall, “You need a better nickname.” 

The small crewmate stiffens up and gapes at Brooks wondering if he actually heard him right. Brooks doesn't reiterate his sentence, falling back into thought. Blue sparks light up the edges of Bait's vision as he tries to get clarification by pulling on his sleeve. White and blue fill his eyes, in a flash he's standing numbly back at the ship. Did he hear him right? What...

Bait snaps out of his stupor and carefully exits the teleporter, not fully trusting his legs. Rook is hunched at the terminal, shoulders held tight. Green goes to avoid catching his attention but jolts when he turns to look pointedly at him. Nothing is said as neither move, Rook breaks the stand off with a scoff and looks back at the terminal.

“You're so loud…”

Absolute confusion overtakes Bait, that again? Instead of trying to understand the audacity he just slowly inches towards the back of the ship. One hand on the wall keeps him steady while walking as eyes bore into the back of his head. Rook's helmet wasn't off so he wasn't high but is certainly acting less friendly than yesterday. 

Whatever, a little rest after everything is deeply desired. His bunk feels so welcoming to just flop into and curl up. He feels conflicted about being back at the ship but is glad to be out of the mess he was in.

With his back to the room he doesn't see Rook staring at him from the doorway. Luckily he goes back to the computer.

_-_-_

Brooks glances at the spot Bait had occupied just moments ago. Sighing and getting up he collects the items left behind, doubling up on the walkie and flashlight. His is way more charged, impressive battery management. Leaning his head to the side the walkie beeps, “I'm heading back your way. Everything good on your end?”

“Clear so far, when you meet back up we'll head back to the ship. Keep your wits about you.”

“Hurry back!” 

The walkie cuts as Ratchet tells Citrus not to yell and leaves Brooks with his thoughts. Glancing at the scene left behind an unusual feeling simmers under the surface. Boot scuffs littered the floor as well as yellow gouges from tanks. Wet spots streak across the cramped area, both white and blue. Glancing at the wall above where Bait had collapsed, silk threads stick to the chipped metal. Wisps of thread trail down to where he had been found. It looks like a wild struggle and after everything he got out of Ratchet left the world feeling tilted. 

Pulling his weapon off his back he feels a new desire burn in his core. This job had horrors, truly mind breaking horrors and would kill you if you stepped funny but this is wrong. The alleviated gasp of his name echoes in his mind, making his heart squirm. Grabbing a fistful of uniform over the loud organ he slowly breathes in and out.

The way back was unchallenged, the factory felt as if it was holding its own breath. Citrus notices him first, hopping to his feet but sagging a little when it's only him. The small man tugs at his gloves, visibly upset even though his face is obscured, “How…uh, um what…is he alive?” 

He sounds so guilty that it ices the fury in Brooks’ veins. Was he mad at Citrus for being unable to help? He had nearly knocked them over when he found them, hysterical that he had gotten separated and Bait could be in danger. It took so long to calm down enough  to understand his frantic words. The small man was convinced  the entity was going to kill Bait, despite Ratchet trying to remind him that that isn't how monsters react to him. That muffled call for help set orange off so bad that he pleaded to come with but Ratchet convinced him to stay put. 

Now he stood before him, guilt stricken and hoping that Brooks didn't find a corpse. Brooks released his shoulders, sagging a little and patting the top of his head, “He's alive and back on the ship.”

Citrus sways back a bit, comforted to know his friend's at least safe. He looks at Ratchet, “Can we go to the ship?”

Brooks’ pack is full, he's more than willing to return. After a moment of consideration Ratchet nods, “Let's go back for now.”

They weren't too far from the fire exit, collecting scrap that was piled up. Ratchet shoulders a large axel and has Brooks’ lead the way. The sun bore down on the dry dirt, it hung in the middle of the sky so they shouldn't have too many entity problems. They can be quick, the ship is visible from the exit and not a Hawk in sight. Motioning that it's clear the three move quickly. Brooks keeps up front, Citrus in the middle and Ratchet bringing up the rear. The ground shakes underfoot but it doesn't feel close so no one deviates from the path back.

Having feet firmly back on the ship felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders. Rook is splayed out on Ratchet's workbench, groaning in discomfort as he rubbed his chest. Ratchet goes over to check on him as Brooks drops his weapon off to the side. Gear and scrap are quickly unloaded before he and orange briskly move into the back. 

Bait is curled up in his bunk in what is best described as a human loaf. He's laying on his left leg, the other brought up against his side with his arms curled under his chest. It can not be comfortable but he looks completely unbothered, at least until Citrus makes a low whine before words just spill out, “Bait! OhthestarsI'msosorrRrryyYyy!”

The loud near sob awoke the oddly positioned man, jolting and pressing down against the mattress in alarm. He realizes they are back and can barely brace himself as Citrus goes in for a hug. He gives a shaky tap to his crying friend's outstretched  hand before getting a full body hug from the distraught man. Now pinned Green swings his head up at Brooks for help, said crewmate can see himself reflected in his chipped visor. The feature had perked the blue's attention before but the train of thought is stalled by blubbering sniffles.

“I thought it was going to kill you after yesterday! I'm so sorry! I blinked and it was gone! You got hurt and I'm so sorry!” Brooks thought Bait was a bit animal-like but Citrus clung to green like a koala, words devolving into nonsensical attempts at words. Unfortunately Bait was growing distressed as he gripped the sheets and pulled away from his friend. Brooks steps in before someone snaps, rubbing Citrus’ shoulders and pulling him off of the now frazzled crewmate. Orange doesn't resist, whining and hanging limply in the taller man's grasp.

“Hey, why don't you take a minute to calm down.” He encourages gently and sets him down at the hall. The smallest crewmate sniffles, still feeling awful but nods and heads back to the front.

“Th…. thank you..” Bait mumbles, having stretched out more but kept his arms curled under his chest. Brooks faces him, shadow spanning the whole back half of the ship. They stay quiet for several heart beats as green grows a little wary of him.

“Um…were you serious about…. earlier?” The question breaks the silence and Brooks finds himself kneeling at his bunk. Bait gives an uneasy sound, shifting away from any more undesired contact after getting nearly strangled by the smallest crewmate. Searching for what he had said during the rescue his eyes kept wandering to the damage on his helmet. It's a crack in the uniform. Some personality in the symmetry. A chip, a perfect imperfection.

“A new nickname? Yeah, I suck at names though.” He laughs airily, watching green lay his head down on his arms. Bait sighs a bit with the quiet, not taking his eyes off Brooks.

“Are you alright? I know it's stupid to ask that but…” His words trailed off noticing how hard Bait gripped his sheet. He's not ok. Blue raises his hands in surrender, “I'm not trying to pry, I was just worried.”

A low breathed growling sound comes from green, Brooks frowns at the reservations of the other. Captain was right about being strange but it's cute. Like a feral cat, making him want to approach his next words carefully.

“I'm not…” Exhaling through his nose to select his next words, “This situation is not something I'm used to and it doesn't really sit well with me.”

He could feel the squinted suspicion burning from behind the cracked visor, “I'm not trying to be an ass. Or make you feel like I'm trying to hurt you.” 

Bait sits up slowly crossing his legs at the ankles and planting balled hands on the blanket. He looks poised to strike but he is shaking ever so slightly, as if he's cold. 

“What…” There's a displeased exhale, speaking really bothered him at times. “...would you call me?”

Brooks was confused, he's stuck on that? 

No, it's layered. A test even. To gain his trust and even begin to believe blue's words Bait needs to understand what he sees him as. This new crewmate appears and sees him in a humiliating position, despite the sympathy this might not be the first time someone has presented vulnerability to him. But it might have bitten him to let them in.

“I said I'm shit at names, I mean mine is just my last name but…” He hesitates when green leans in, the light catches an intense glare hidden beneath the glass that almost makes him back off, “I've been mulling over the name Chip, it felt kinder. Yeah it started with the crack on your helmet but it's kinda grown on me in my head.”

Bait lifts a hand to touch the chip in his helmet, expression completely unseen as he moves out of the light. Concern that he'd be seen as only superficial Brooks stammers to explain his thoughts, “It's n-”

“I like the name Chip.” 

Both jump and turn to Citrus standing in the doorway. His shoulders are sagging a bit with a voice that's a bit subdued, “Sorry I.. didn't mean to drop in.”

“You're alright.” Blue says calmly, hoping the person currently closest to Bait might help translate, so to speak. Emboldened to continue with his thoughts, Citrus' voice livens up, “I do like Chip, honest. It sounds like you've taken a lickin’ and just kept kickin’. Damaged but not broken, stronger despite it.”

Orange pulls at the hem of his jacket, still sheepish from his earlier breakdown, “I mean it's certainly nicer than Bait. Also reminds me of mint chip ice cream because your suit's green. We can be letter twins!”

Bait's helmet barely moves as he glances between the two. Citrus’ energy had returned and Brooks found himself wanting food thanks to his visual thoughts. A pointed head tilt has him waving his hands in front of himself, “I didn't tell him about the idea, this isn't planned I promise.”

The three stayed still, breath held to see what their injured crewmate would do. Reject the name or not. Green eventually sits back, shifting to be more comfortable. His right hand spells out the name in signs, C-H-I-P, as if he's feeling how it fits in his mind. Citrus offers a sign, holding his left hand flat to his chest he raises his right to 'hold’ the tip of his middle finger with pointer and thumb. He then quickly twisting his wrist so his thumb is on top, “Chip. Or I could use the sign for potato chips but that feels a little silly.” 

“I..like Chip.” Chip grumbles softly, still feeling it out but the shift in his demeanor is clear. Rubbing his arm he signs a small 'thank you’ at Brooks who feels so relieved that the suggestion is received well despite feeling like a fool delivering it. Green signs something too fast for the kneeling man to read but when Citrus leaves he gets the idea. Alone again they study each other silently but the tension isn't as suffocating. Brooks goes to speak but a lifted hand stops him before signing carefully, “It's better for everyone if I'm alone. Getting close hurts people. Safer alone.”

“Safer for who? Because it isn't for you. Why must you deal with something like that? You and Rook?”

There's hesitation in his hands, as if he doesn't want to answer and shut it down. Yet his hands lift and continue, “Contract changed after first encounter. Rook is different but the same in some ways.”

Contract? So they do know. 

“It's still mainly you inside the facilities.”

That makes Chip stop, hands lowering and head turning away. Brooks panics that he messed up, did he say something wrong?!

“Shit, I'm sorry. Hey, wait-”

“It's safer…to not get close…” His words said one thing but his tone felt hollow. Was he reiterating something that someone had the gall to say to him? It just made Brooks more sure of his decision.

“Then stop me now because I don't care what's safer.” He scoots closer, hands on the bunk. He dares Chip to hit him or yell at him. To declare his concern is out of line but green is just frozen, head low. Brooks lifts a hand, respecting Chip's request yesterday and waits. 

With a shaky sound Chip invites his touch by brushing his fingertips across Brooks’ palm. He jumps when fingers tangle with his, but Brooks only holds them calmly. Blue's heart thuds in his ears, for what reason he's not sure but partly for holding his hand. After a moment the smaller man tugs his hand free, tucking it against  his person. Brooks stands, "Don't worry about needing to move but I'm sure Ratchet will want to check whether or not you'll be fit for tomorrow.”

There's a low groan but not much fight left in him. Patting the bunk as a sign of comfort Brooks makes his way to the front. Ratchet was making sure their gear was charged. She perks up and turns towards him, “Is he settled? I just want to check on him before the end of the day.”

A much louder groan filters in from the back which makes Brooks have to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, “Already braced him for it.” 

She drops a walkie and flashlight in his hand, patting his shoulder and moving past, “Good work.”

Well now he felt all sorts of ways, glancing at Rook who saw the whole thing. He leans on the terminal to adjust his stance, “What a woman right?”

Well they're a fan. Citrus comes back inside with something in his hand, a cool rock it appears. He shows it to them and points out the thing that had made him pick it up. Brooks didn't get rocks but something does click, this here reminds him of his old crew. Glancing at the screen while Rook asks a few questions to the little crewmate. Captain's dot moves, unaware of what happened to two of his team. Yet Ratchet is the one here, making sure everyone is still breathing.

Running his tongue under his front teeth he thinks he's figured out why everyone favors Ratchet. She's the real leader, Captain is it in name and strength only. But there must be a reason he's in charge, what does he do? As if his thoughts were read she appears from the back and stretches fully, “I like the new name, Chip. Well neither he or Rook are scrap running tomorrow. Man, any more injuries and we might get sent to the cabin.”

Brooks tilts his head at the mention of a location he's never heard of. The other two perk up at the mention of it as well, so he's the odd one out. 

“What's that? I thought crews disbanded or were terminated when too many are injured.”

Ratchet folds her arms and looks to contemplate her answer. Rubbing her helmet like it's her chin she finds her words, “In any other case yes but, there's three assets on this team the Company don't want to lose so we have special allowances. It's a little moon off grid. Consider going tightly leashed downtime.”

Citrus bounces on his heels while palming his new trinket, “It's a nice break but we only have the one area because there's nothing but trees that go on to the horizon. Only been once.”

Huh.

Interesting, makes sense he rationalizes. Keeps other crews from noticing irregularities or asking questions.

Also keeps them isolated.

The group decides to not go back into the facility after doing a quick count of their scrap. Brooks hopes tomorrow is not going to go sideways but he's not going to hold his breath.

Chapter Text

Brooks woke up earlier than the rest, Ratchet was arguing with someone in the front part of the ship. A quick look counted Rook, Citrus and Chip fast asleep. Or at least not wanting to be awake, hard to tell with how dark it is. Slowly sitting up he tries to parse what is being argued, hearing a few names being thrown back and forth. Not wanting to make her job harder by dropping in he slinks off to the bathroom. 

Thankfully the discussion is finished or tabled by the time he comes out. A wild haired Citrus pokes his head out, “We landing?”

“Not yet, probably soon.”

He grumbles and rolls over, disappearing under his blanket again. Too awake to have the luxury of nodding off, Brooks gets a ration and water and decides to make himself known. Ratchet is poured over her bench, blueprints and part lists littered all over it. Captain was typing away at what looked like logs, blue chooses to ignore it for now. Tapping her shoulder with the bottle snaps her out of her muttering trance.

“Oh, thanks. We didn’t wake you did we?” She asks softly, glancing back into the darkness of the back room. Brooks lies with a shake of his head, “Bathroom.”

She gives an understanding nod before sipping at the water.

“What’s that?” He questions, wanting to not fall into an awkward silence. She perks up, “This is a new inverse teleporter, my old captain had the last model installed. I don’t like them because being blindly teleported inside with nothing feels like a possible death sentence. B~ut…it could give Rook an extra way to escape if things get dicey. Well I mean, gives anyone in the ship a way out. The bitch about the earlier models is that they can cause pain to the user which is not something I’d want to deal with getting out of one situation and into another.”

She shifts the blueprints and sweeps away the lists into a messy stack so Brooks can get a better look. Her notes are the easier part to read, the actual information leaves him feeling a bit dumb.

“With the integrated cameras it nullifies losing track of anyone and taking longer for the teleporter to lock onto their location, as long as you have your helmet. However you’re still cut off from everyone because well…” She ends with a hand wave towards the teleporter. Items don’t go with the user, so no way to communicate a problem if shit goes sideways too fast. 

“I’d like to build in helmet communication but with the risk of damage and how complicated it is…doesn’t look entirely possible. I’ve been working on prototypes and having Rook test them but they're a bit too fragile still. Just the woes of the mechanic.”

She yawns and rubs her neck, looking around before asking Captain what time it is. It’s relayed quietly over the sound of rapid key clacks, just about landing time. Brooks is dismissed so he can get ready without needing to brace during landing. Rook sitting up in his bunk with eyes closed like wakefulness was not where he wanted to be. Blue goes to get dressed as purple rubbed his eyes and blindly gets down to go do his job, leaving him alone with a softly snoring Citrus and a silent Chip.

The landing is smooth, looks like the nearby area is wet but where Rook picked is at least not raining. At this point the drill is set so a debrief is unnecessary. Double checking cameras and charge status Citrus leads the way without looking back. Brooks doesn’t mind being the one with the weapon. Captain had set out before them and Ratchet was making sure that the last two actually stayed put. 

Last day of Offense and hopefully they'll get back without issue. 

_-_-_

Chip did not enjoy being awake, he feels stiff and even more sore than yesterday. He's thankful it's a straight forward day so no pressure on him. 

He's simply not allowed inside the facility, something the ache in his limbs is grateful for. Downside is he's alone with Rook but so far he doesn't  seem to be acting oddly. Getting his walkie after Ratchet leaves he yawns and lumbers back to bed for some more sleep. Just a little more.

He got maybe half an hour before being startled awake by a loud cracking sound. Followed soon by a growling laugh, what is he breaking?

Leaving the walkie behind Chip sneaks towards the front and peers around the corner. Rook is not at the terminal…but his helmet is. Dread prickles up his spine as the sensible side of him begs to crawl back into bed. Don't engage, he's done something and could be agitated. Starting a fight will certainly earn Captain's ire, he was very strict about them fighting.

Eyes sweep to the open door and see small scrap items littering the floor. They had ransacked it! Another crack has him jump when the angry laugh bounces back into the ship. He’s lucky it’s early…this level of noise would have Dogs all over the ship. Against his better judgement Chip slowly steps forward, socks making his approach silent. Peering around the ship to the right he finds an odd sight.

It seems someone brought back a comedy mask and Rook was whipping it against the rocks near the ship. Chip can’t tell if he’s gotten into anything but the wide manic grin keeps him rooted in place. The smaller crewmate watches them frisbee a mask with contempt, the porcelain fracturing against the surface yet not breaking. Black appears to ooze from the breaks as it marks the wall and ground. When purple goes to retrieve them Chip gets a better look at his face, he has a wild look on him, indescribably angry with something else keeping their movements stiff. He’s muttering something at the object the man can’t make out well, something about it needing to be quiet?

“Just…fucking…break…” The other snarls to the mask, stamping on it and growling hard through his teeth. Something black drools past his lips before a hand wipes it away. Foreboding tells Chip to leave him alone so he tries to back away. His heel knocks against a flask which rolls loudly away from him. No longer wishing to be in the front he retreats to the back as he hears boots land on the catwalks. Green tries to act like he hadn’t been out of bed as heavy steps have him biting his tongue. Rook perches at the door, head cocked and figure bathed in shadow against the light filtering in. A low sound of unease betrays that he’s awake but neither move for a long stretch.

“Can’t fool me. I can h~ear you.” 

Their voice is flat and low, threatening in a way Chip can never describe. The normally animated man steps closer, eyes holding a faint redness in the shadows. When he touches Chip’s side the other growls and slaps his hand away, pretending to be asleep thrown out the window. A twisted grin tugs at the taller man as he rubs his hand, lunging forward and clasping a hand against his face and shoving him against the wall. Quick thinking has Chip planting a foot against Rook’s hip and keeping them from trapping him completely in the small space. 

Mismatched heavy breathing echo in the invaded bunk, Rook hesitating as if he had a moment of clarity, eyes widening as he takes in what’s going on. The glow returns behind his eyes and the slack hand on his face grips hard enough to make the other give a little ‘mrao’ of pain. Green grabs the offending arm and pushes Rook’s face away with a strained growl. His efforts to keep him back are met with forceful laughter, red burning behind the unimpressed expression, “You are so loud today, pressing against my skull. Why can’t you be quiet like the others? Why only me? Why, why?!” 

Fingers drag down his chest, making Chip protest behind their hand. Panic lights Chip’s nerves on fire when the zipper of his jacket is tugged on. Breathing harder as his mind races, he picks up a chemical smell on Rook’s sleeves. He definitely got into something from the medical inhalants. Not taking this passively he jerks his head back and snaps his teeth into the meat of the other’s hand. There’s a sharp hiss followed by a throaty growl of pain by his aggressor. They attempt to pull free but Chip’s teeth dig harder between the knuckles. Neither are willing to back down but one has the advantage, gripping green’s jacket and dragging him almost effortlessly onto the floor. 

When his head knocked against the metal Chip was forced to release with a yelp of pain, hands finding purchase against Rook’s shoulders as they crouched over him. Rough fingers wrap around his neck, pressing just enough to have him gasping, “Shut up, sssshut up. I’ll make you, I know how.”

Kicking is useless as Rook is straddling his hips and his socks slide with little friction to push him off of his grasp. Pressure builds in Chip’s ears, hearing slowly getting replaced by his frantic heartbeat. Pushing against the heavier man isn’t doing enough, a thought flashing in his mind. 

Rook’s chest is still injured.

In one swift move Chip drops his arms, bracing his right hand and drives his elbow up into the other’s sternum. The effect is immediate. Rook recoils with a loud howl, releasing Chip who rolls to the right to gasp for air but still pinned. Panting and coughing green backhands the bigger crewmate hard with his left hand to get them off of him. Purple is dislodged enough for him to scramble out from under him, staying low and crouched in case there’s more fight left in the other. Rook wipes his busted lip, glancing at thick black saliva with worried eyes. The pain seems to have snapped him out of whatever was going on as normal green eyes sweep to take in what is happening. Confusion and regret carve itself onto his features, “Wh…what happened?”

Chip doesn’t trust him, pulling his shoulders tight and growling a low single note in suspicion. Rook turns away and doubles over, looks like the pain finally hit them. Black saliva pools on the floor as he holds his chest, “Fuck, right in the sternum?!”

Eyes take in the strange fluid and the fact his eyes aren’t glowing anymore. They…seem lucid now, maybe just high. Still not ideal so relaxing is still not an option. Despite it not being a good idea to leave he wants nothing to do with Rook when they’re like this. His rest is ruined and he’s not tempting him to take more of his anger out on him by staying. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” Hands reach out at him which green dodges quickly. Both struggle to stand, from lingering injuries and the interaction. Chip has to get past Rook to get out but he’s in better shape than the other for once. Moving away from purple he makes his move, skirting past Rook and reaching for the walkie. Arms wrap around him lift him away from the only line to the others.

“You don’t get to start shit like that!” Rook snarls, squeezing harder with each word. Green’s ribs ache from the pressure, twisting to get free proves useless. Each breath gets harder, feeling light headed but he is too stubborn to submit.

“Get..off!” The words are hoarse from getting choked, he feels the bigger man loosen his grasp in shock. Chip leans forward and snaps his head back, stars dance behind his eyelids from hitting the tender spot. Rook yowls and drops him, holding their face. All thoughts escape him when an angry glowing glare peeks out past fingertips, instinct screaming at him to run. Before the other could make another move to grapple him Chip turns heel and bolts. 

Pain barely registers as he vaults the railing and takes off towards the facility. He has to be anywhere but the ship. Outside is too dangerous, he is at least familiar with dealing with inside. Boots follow after him, angry words shouted but his focus keeps him from understanding any of it. The only reason he’s able to stay ahead of the much faster Rook is because of their injuries, any other case he’d been caught before he could see the door. The fire exit is first in his sight, looking over his shoulder at his pursuer and making the snap decision to lose him through there. Throwing the door open Chip picks a path without thought. 

Green is able to keep ahead for a few twists and turns. However he can’t shake Rook, cutting a corner too soon the back of his jacket is grabbed. He’s pulled back into a headlock, purple trying to subdue him.

“We’re not supposed to be in here. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Me?! You choked me!” Chip rasps, nails digging into their arm when he couldn’t bite him. It hurts to speak after running. He presses a foot against the wall and shoves hard, Rook knocking back against the opposite wall. The other man growls and twists them both, bringing Chip to his knees. 

“My hand has your damn teeth marks in it, how the hell!”

The pressure returns, making it hard to hear and breathe. He doesn’t want to pass out here, so he digs his elbow into Rook’s ribs. The lock is released with a pain filled hiss and the two lay there panting. The room is spinning so Chip sinks onto the cool metal, body aching from how tense he had been. He can't keep fighting, but neither can the other. So it's a draw. Rook is whining and rubbing his chest, slowly lifting his shirt to look at the renewed marks. 

“You fight so dirty you bastard…” He grunts but doesn’t move yet. Chip licks the back of his teeth, staring off down the hall, “You…your eyes were glowing..”

Rook goes still, when their eyes meet he looks at his sleeves which are marked with blackened fluid. Chip pulls himself up, coughing when he rubs his tender throat. Fuck that hurts. Hackles rise when the other gets to his feet to try and assist. 

“Hey..I..shit…I fucked up, I don’t remember anything but…” He trails off, rubbing his head and visibly thumbing through his thoughts. Suddenly he stops, “The masks…and you elbowing me.”

Oh, he has no memory of anything. Standing straight and pressing his hands to his back, Chip wonders what to say. They’ve been acting stranger lately but it doesn’t look to be necessarily a conscious choice. He turns towards Rook and actually sees what their fight had done to him. Dried blood runs down his chin from his bruising nose, almost hiding the fat lip he had given them. Glancing at their hand he can see just how hard he had bitten the other, marks already discolored. A grimace pulls at his mouth, signing an apology and feeling a bit guilty he always feels when they fight. It breaks some tension but never ends well, at least this one didn’t end too terribly.

“Why are you apologizing? Your face and neck are discolored, damn…hold still.” It takes everything for him to allow Rook to touch him so soon but the gentle touch has him pause. Rook visibly winces as he moves Chip’s head from side to side, “Fuck…Ratchet’ll be pissed. She said to behave…damnit, so much for resting.”

“How’s your nose?”

“Clogged but not broken, you missed a direct hit. Your head is hard, you little shit.” The light tone doesn’t make the words feel like a threat. With the fire of fighting burnt out the two look around, “You have nothing on you and I think we’re a few halls o-”

Heavy and familiar footfalls have them both stiffen and look behind Rook. A Nutcracker turns the corner, possibly drawn to them from their fighting. Chip’s stomach drops, the last encounter flashing in his mind. The head pops open as the shotgun is cocked, Rook jolts and grabs Chip’s hand. Before the smaller crewmate can even register what’s happening he’s whipped around and dragged away as Rook runs. A shot rings out but it misses them by a foot. 

Even though Rook could easily save himself by leaving Chip behind, they refuse to let go of his hand. The pair retrace steps but get a bit turned around at a crossroads. Chip begs for a moment, breathing is still hard but the footsteps are too close. A shot forces their hand and they drag the tired crewmate down a hall. The distance between the fleeing humans and monster keeps closing as fatigue builds. Spent and unable to keep running Chip pulls his hand free and leans against the wall, gasping near painful air. The antsy crew circles back to him, pulling on his jacket and urging him to move. The Nutcracker closes in and Chip sees the moment where they contemplate abandoning him. He closes his eyes, not wanting to know if he runs.

“Shit!” 

Rook shoves Chip’s head down, making him lose balance and fall to his knees as they hear the distinct click. He covers his ears and shakes, lime and red flash behind his eyes thinking they’re about to be killed. All because of their fighting. It's stupid!

Chapter Text

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Nothing happens.

Shaking, he dares to open an eye. He is met with the barrel pointed at him, heart jumping into his throat. The smell of gunpowder has him nearly pull his hair out. Rook is also looking terrified, it’s been a while since he’s squared off against the wooden soldier. Why has it stopped?

Chip’s thoughts are interrupted by the barrel tapping against his jaw and pulling his attention to the huge yellow eye. A low whine rumbles in his throat as he tries to look smaller and nonthreatening. The single orb squints at him, hooking the shotgun under his chin and tilting his head up. Feeling so defenseless has his vision blinded by sudden tears, making him squeeze his eyes shut. 

‘click’

The safety clicks into place, a shuddering breath escapes Chip's lips as he slowly opens his eyes. It's not a soothing sound but not being given a new hole is certainly preferred. Wetting his dry mouth he cautiously waits for what it has in mind next. The wood shell shivers as a few tendrils unfurl from inside, so much for escaping an encounter today.

Rook, who had been completely paralyzed, tries to move away but the upper section spins towards them independently from the lower half. Hands go up in instant surrender as the other freezes in place once more. The gun knocks into his chest which has him groaning in pain. Chip stares up at him, a sickening mix of emotions churning in his stomach. Please don't do something to get them killed.

He might get sick. 

“H-Hey you got us, no need to swing that around right?” There's a deep nervousness in his tone as he looks between the glinting metal and the unimpressed eye. When he also isn't immediately turned into a memory he slowly takes hold of the barrel and moves it off their sensitive bruising, “I'm sure there's something else you'd like serviced than this right?” 

Chip gives a shaky whine at his words, he's not the one face level with the nest of tentacles. As if sensing his thoughts, three latch onto his head and pull him closer. Eyes squeeze shut as the thickest length slides over his cheek. Why didn't he wear his helmet?

Two small tentacles press into the corners of his mouth and force his jaw open, tiny protests are drowned out as the thick tendril fills his mouth with a quick thrust. Chip braces against the smooth blue wood, nails biting into the paint. It smells like oil yet tastes like pine, that combo has him reeling back but trapped between the monster and wall he can't get away. Stamping down the urge to bite he moves his tongue along the underside of the tentacle. A churning sound deep within the chassis rewards his compliance. Chip huffs through his nose, the alternative is much worse so this is... acceptable.

The gun is put aside with a long tentacle holding on so neither human can get it easily. One hand rests on Chip’s head and the other has Rook pinned to the wall. As green keeps sucking and whining more tentacles creep out of the soldier. Rook is running his mouth more in fright as tentacles are not his thing. 

Not that they have much say in this. 

They flinch as a slippery tendril runs along the blood on his face. A grimace pulls at his lips with discomfort as the hand drags him closer. Unblinking gaze combs over every inch before it refocuses on the one between its legs.

A mechanical clicking is heard as Chip bobs his head, panting any time he's able to get a second to breathe. The tentacles don't let him get far before yanking him back down to the base of the main tentacle. The man tries pulling away when the long thing slides deep into his throat. A hand moves above the snare trap of tentacles as he taps for air. His lungs have been through enough today! It only pushes his head further on its shaft, thrusting deeper with steam rising from it. Gears grind as mechanical hips press him to his limits. Tears well up and spill down his slime streaked cheeks.

“H…H~ey. Don't kill him.” Rook whispers with concern dripping from every word. Green's eyes roll a little as stars dance at the edges of his vision. A steam filled hiss breaks through the pressure in his head, the only warning of what's next. 

The tentacle throbs in his throat, forcing him to swallow down everything it gives him. It's still too much so cum breaks past his lips and runs down his chin. He is finally released, gasping and coughing hard from being used so roughly. Ugh why does it taste so weird? His lips feel bruised and…

What is that?

Rolling his tongue in his mouth he feels something round. A dull pang of horror settles in his guts as he spits out a little egg. Rook begins to panic a bit, asking a million questions a second that he can't answer. Barely able to breathe past the thick mess sticking to his throat let alone think enough to sign Chip grips his jacket and tries not to hurl. 

The Nutcracker pushes at Rook, looking from him to the mess of a crewmate on the floor. It pushes again. Rook licks the roof of his mouth and slowly pulls the other to his feet. Chip is a mess, saliva and cum marking his face and neck as he can only focus on breathing. A little confused sound churns in his abused throat as he doesn't grasp what is happening but judging by the look on the crewmate's face he does.

More clicking and a slam of the butt of the gun against the floor has them both jump. Rook doesn't like what's being gestured for him to do but they scoop the lighter man before he catches on.

“R-Rook!?” Chip yelps, reaching back to pull at his uniform or anything his frantic hands get a hold of. His knees are tucked against him but held apart as Rook mumbles apologies into his hair. The monster clicks with satisfaction watching the smaller man struggle against the hold he's in. It moves closer, forcing Rook's back against the wall as it unzips green's uniform. Chip strains to kick out but the Nutcracker has him pinned between the two bodies, legs over it's shoulders so he's completely immobilized. A whimper of Rook's name is all he can manage as he watches his pants be undone and pulled down just enough to feel those tentacles against heated skin. 

No! Please no… 

Warm and wet appendages explore his nethers, wrapping around his length and searching for his hole. He yanks at Rook's hair and clothes, begging to be put down before it takes him. Rook is too strong for him to get free from between them so the fight fades with a choked growl, glaring through the monster. 

He grits his teeth when it finds the little bud. The sensation of the thick slime is unlike the Hydrogere from yesterday instead it's sticky like motor oil. His encounter from earlier leaves little defense as thin slick tendrils slither inside. Embarrassment paints his cheeks as his head falls back against Rook's shoulder. This is not how today was supposed to go. 

The other hasn't stopped whimpering apologies to him, taking the pain of his struggles without complaint. They just had to get themself worked up enough to agitate whatever is going on with him. They’d still been in the ship had he not picked a fight. Now they have no communication and are completely at this thing's whims.

Chip tenses up with a startled sound when the teasing tentacles find his button. Words catch in his mouth as it curls and rubs against it, forcing sounds and reactions out of him. Toes curl from the building pressure, it's not painful so he can't ignore the stomach knotting pleasure. Thoughts get muddy as he feels the coil tightening. 

“Ff…fffgk..” He hisses between his teeth, looking down and regretting it instantly. The thick tentacle lines up, sandwiched between the two already driving him crazy. With a single snap of mechanical hips the malleable rod is buried completely inside. His back arches with a ragged cry, waves crashing on him as he covers his stomach in white. The tendrils wrapped around him milk his orgasm greedily. He can't keep quiet, whimpering breathlessly while legs shake against worn wood.

There's a shift behind him, the other’s heated breath fanning across the back of his neck. Is he getting riled up from this? It has Chip squirming before Rook gives a small yelp and hides his face against his shoulder. Seems like neither are escaping unmolested. The twisting throbbing entanglement buried deep inside rolls against his inner walls before gears whirr and a rough pace is set. The trapped man bites his hand to break the building pleasure but it's not enough to quell the rising flood.

Rook chews his cheek as he feels tentacles creep past the hem of his pants. He didn't think he'd be spared but this is a bit precarious. He can't lose focus, it'll be so bad if he drops Chip. Listening to the labored breathing and tiny sounds that catch in the trapped crewmate chest make them glad the helmets don't record sound. He'd be a wreck every single mission there's an encounter. Hell he's losing his mind right now listening to him. 

Break him.

“Fffhnnn..rck!” They bite a mouthful of green clothing to stifle his own sounds as those damn tentacles curl around his thighs. One wraps around his balls and shaft, squeezing and coaxing him to near painfully hard. The second slides between his cheeks and rubs against his clenched hole. He feels a desire to ruin the trembling form held firmly against their body. They're surrounded by sounds and feelings, it's intoxicating. 

Don't make me fuck him, pleeeease don't make me fuck him. 

Why not?

That's the last thing they need to deal with today. This whole thing was the last thing they needed today! He jolts when a slick tip presses inside, the effects of the Maneater's erotical fluids long gone but he still whines at the intrusion. Slowly the muscle grows thicker, filling him at a frustratingly slow pace. The burning itch was not getting scratched, their focus lapsed just enough to loosen his hold on Chip. The man panics at the sense of falling, breathing out his name to get his attention back. Oh, it did so much more than that. Fingers dig into freckled skin as he forcefully exhales, attempting to calm down.

His internal struggle is not missed by their captor.

They shiver when the flexible appendage brushes against the bundle of betrayal, a sharp intake clues the monster in on its find. The tentacle twists up against the spot, making him buck into the one cradling the rest of him. Damnit, this is so much. Chip grabs onto his arm, nails dragging down their skin as the other covers his mouth to keep his sounds down.

No don't stop~

Rook flushes at his thoughts, gritting his teeth. He does not want to fuck Chip, he does not want to fuck him. He does not want to pin him down and have him begging for mercy. You do want to hold him down and fuck him until he's crying. Stars he'd look so cute whimpering your name.

Chip's unaware of Rook's losing battle, losing his own as the Nutcracker torturously rails against him. He has released his grip on Rook and covered his face, desperately blocking out the mind numbing pleasure of twisting tentacles both far too deep inside and wrapped around his weeping cock. Blunt nails dig into his scalp, legs tensing and kicking in weak resistance. He feels like he's going to break, damnit no more! Too muuuuch!

His knees squeeze together as deep shudders wrack his body. A wail cuts off into a silent scream as he arches off Rook and bursts under pressure. The world fades in and out with his heartbeat while the Nutcracker’s movements get sloppy. Rook is grunting against his neck, feeling him press his teeth against sweat-dampened skin. 

Alarm has Chip’s mind clear as he feels the tentacles swell inside, he pulls on Rook’s sleeves with a little sound of confusion. The monster slams into him, pressing the two together as it floods its little crewmate's guts. Rook grunts getting pressed into so hard, muttering something that the other can't parse out. Many of the tentacles wrapped around green’s hips cover his stomach in thick white cum. Low trilling clicks match the Nutcracker's movements as it pumps into the unwilling body. Chip watches his belly grow as his system is flooded with eggs, a deep unease settles in his chest. They aren't like Bracken eggs, smaller and sticky, but he does not like how his guts feel. The Nutcracker leaves him absolutely coated in cum before pulling out, leaving a pool of cum to drop off the limp human. The tentacles all retreat back inside as Rook's legs give and the two sink to the floor. The monster looks down at them, leaning forward and petting both of their heads before swinging around. With shotgun in hand it marches off. 

Chip groans and lets his head fall back against Rook's shoulder as they pant and rest in the puddle the monster made of them. Rook eases his grasp on his legs and flexes his sore arms. After a moment they hesitantly touch his shoulder. Green can only hiss at his touch, he's tired of being touched without permission. 

“Sorry, I need to move. You…fuck.” Rook sounds nervous and glancing at them has Chip pulling himself away. Rook is flushed, panting slowly but the blackened saliva and low red glow, only visible in the corner of his eye, says that the encounter has affected him terribly. It finally dawns on him that they are erect against his back, alarm bells start ringing in his gummed up mind.

Purple finally gets out from under him and they're also a mess, panicking for a few reasons. He paces fretfully in tight circles before kneeling down in exhaustion. Chip can hear him repeating he's not going to medical and how he needs to calm down. 

“The…The main one is the only egg laying one. You're spared...” He struggles to say, pushing himself up onto his elbows and biting his tongue in mild nausea. Too much…

Rook snaps his head towards him, seeming relieved before taking in the wreck the other is. His jaw goes slack, looking away quickly while getting visibly frustrated. Chip gets concerned, swallowing nervously.

“R..Rook?” 

His name is whispered with such trepidation, exhausted green eyes watching him. He's at his mercy, too tired to fight him off after being ravaged so thoroughly. Legs still spread as trying to close them was too much. It however had Rook blatantly staring in unfiltered lust, light too bright to see the low glow anymore.

Take him. Break him!

The thought is so tempting, he could just push his knees back and would have his little crewmate pinned. He snarls and turns away, No damnit! Hasn't it been enough?!

Little whimpering breaths pull his eyes back to curled form. Chip's so vulnerable, it would be so easy. The Nutcracker already did the hard part. A shiver crawls up their spine at the ghost of the tentacles.

Acts so tough but here he lays whimpering like a bitch in heat. 

Worn fingers caresses warm skin, getting a weak ‘mrro’ of protest. Yet Chip doesn't move or smack his hand away. He could silence the voices by indulging in the body that has been driving him insane lately. There's just something about him that makes him want to do things to him. It's a constant pressure and even now it's suffocating them.

Subdue, breed, break. 

“R…R-Rook? Pl-please..” His plea was so close, blinking twice Rook finds himself having pulled the other into his lap. Pale skin flushed pink with blooming bruises from his hands. Fear sparks in his eyes, thinking his crewmate was going to have his way with him. 

Don't look at me like that. I…I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to thi-

Fuck him.

“Please…Rook don't-!” Rook covers his mouth, pressing his head onto the floor. Green closes his eyes and shivers, holding onto his arm so he can't push too hard.

“Sssh, stop. Fuuuck, I'm not…no damnit. I'm not going to..fuck Why do I want to? You scream at me but no else hears it. D-damnit. I'm not, I'm not…” He pushes Chip away from him, grunting in frustration. He's so hard it's so difficult to think. He attempts pulling on a loc to try and distract from the intoxicating situation. The tiny sounds, scent and wide worried eyes have a deep burning ignite in their core. He fails to notice he is beginning to drool again.

Every time he thinks he's managed to calm down he looks at Chip who is struggling and it gets worse. He's bitten his own lip so hard he tastes blood. 

Just a taste~

“Y..your eyes…” Chip groans, making him pause. He wipes his mouth and sees the blackened spit, normally that would be enough to make him stop. The shock of his condition being so obvious but as he rubbed his fingers together a voice whispered it could be thick enough for lubricant. 

No! Stop damnit! Hitting his head with the palm of his hand he grits his teeth. Chip has managed to sit himself up, panting from the effort. Rook finds himself crouching between his legs, hand on his face once more. The fear isn't gone but there’s not much else in the green depths. Has he accepted whatever they do to him? I'm not….

And yet you are throbbing between his legs.

A small frustrated sound escapes clenched teeth, “Fuck, don't…not I'm not..I won't! Please stop making sounds, it's too much. Damnit why do I want to make you cry? Why is there something about you that makes everything harder? I'm sorry! You can't control it…”

His words are vague and jumbled just like his thoughts. His little crewmate flits his eyes from his face to the raging erection. He looks so cute, nervous but unable to do anything against a stronger entity. Rook hisses and pulls Chip to his chest, growling into his neck as fingers entangle in sweat matted hair. The body in his grasp tenses, nails biting into his shoulders as he gives tiny sounds. His scent is thick and inviting, it's never this apparent. Ugh nose aches.

“I need something, I can't think…we need to leave but all I want to do is hold you down.”

Chip tries to suppress his shaking but it doesn't work. His prey is scared and it's delicious to feel. Another angry snarl and he releases him roughly, holding his hands away. The other rubs his side where he had squeezed unknowingly. Taking hold of a wrist as they undo their pants. They have him wrap his hand around their length. 

The touch was euphoric, begging for more, for them to take more but he remains still. “Ffffffuck, yes yesyesyes.. don't whine. Don't look.”

He pulls the other’s head against his right shoulder again, “Sssh, no sounds just mmmrrhh, keep going.”

They buck up into his hands, keening and drowning out the voices in favor of feeling someone else touching him. Chip obeys his heated demands, blindly working the pulsing rod in his hands. They want more, he wants to bury his dick to the hips in the heated body he's holding. No, nono behave. Be good. 

Chip is quiet, not resisting the touch as the other ruts needily into his hand. He hisses when fingers pull at his hair but the other is too in their head to hear his discomfort. His wrist aches from how hard Rook is holding him.

Breath hitches and the other moans softly as warmth spreads over his hand. There's a moment of heavy breathing before they pull back in surprise. Rook's jaw works at words that don't want to come out. Looking at his hand Chip makes a face and shakes the mess off.

“I…I'm sorry. Shit…what's wrong with me…?” He frowns and shakily gets to feet, “Damn, that was….I'm sorry…”

Fixing himself quickly he offers a hand which Chip reluctantly takes. Standing on unstable legs has him needing to lean on Rook. Quick hands fix his pants as well and other than the sticky mess and bruises they look less of a wreck. 

“Ok, no more weirdness. I'll get us out. Are you…steady?” His voice is gentle but strained as he's clearly not completely in the clear. But it sounds like he's safe to trust now so Chip allows himself to relax against him. He's so tired.

Rook had them out fairly quickly, muttering how he could have gotten them out if he had not freaked out so badly. After Chip loses his footing the other sweeps him up effortlessly and presses on towards the ship. There's not much protest from the exhausted crewmate.

Chip's head falls forward as he starts to nod off, the adrenaline wearing off with serious fatigue. He makes tiny sounds while half asleep. Rook manages to get them back and looks at the mess they left behind.

No one had returned as the ship was covered in the ransacked scrap. The mask they tried breaking which kicked off this whole mess laying on the catwalk and laughing at him. Picking past the items and moving to the back he sees Chip’s bunk all messed up, blankets half on the floor. 

Green begins to squirm in their arms, “Put..put me down please.”

Rook places him down immediately, holding out arms in case he falls. Chip pushes his hands away and heads to the bathroom, keeping his arms close to himself before disappearing into the bathroom. Sounds of running water lazily filter from the vents. Purple growls under his breath, damnit what was that! I nearly fucked him! 

Still could.

Rook waves away the thought as he sets about cleaning up the front of the ship. He checks on everyone and is pleased that they're all ok. Ratchet is walking with purpose though the halls, Captain is alive and looks like the dynamic duo are bargaining with the hoarder bugs.

Their whole fight went unnoticed, he could still try to smash the mask outside. Slowly walking around the corner and picking it up he stares at the front side. An angry expression is molded to it, marred by black dripping ichor. Rage flares and he throws it as far away past the rock walls as possible. He hears a few clattering sounds as he wipes his hands and returns inside. Swiping a ration and water they set about fixing Chip’s bunk while he's in the shower.

When the water turns off they have finished placing the peace offering and look up, should I stay or leave. I need to clean up a bit.

Chip walks out with a towel around himself and head. With ruined uniform in hand he tosses it into a disposal bin. He meets Rook’s gaze for several heartbeats then turns to rummage through a closet for a clean one. Rook edges closer, wanting to get by which the barely clothed crewmate moves to accommodate. 

Once cleared the door closes and he holds his face in his hands.

Fuck…

Chip has to hold on to the bunk ladders to keep balance as he dresses. He feels better in clean clothes and eyes the reorganized bed along with the offered peace snacks. Unfortunately the thought of eating sounds day ruining so he just opts for the water, testing his stomach with a few sips. His insides aren't happy with it but it's not so bad that he stops. 

Taking measured steps to the front he finds his walkie near Rook’s. The scrap was placed back in storage and giving a cursory glance through the cameras he sees everyone is ok. But it looks like everyone but Captain was heading back with scrap. They have a few minutes so he moves towards the back with the walkie. 

Knocking on the bathroom he hears a mumbled ‘yes?’. Chewing on his cheek, green finally says, “Three are returning.”

“Shit.”

Rook can only do so much with the bloody nose but he heals abnormally fast. They'll be found out for fighting but at least that should be it. Chip doesn't want to tell them what happened. The other might by accident but that’s their deal to handle.

He climbs into his bunk, moving the food under the pillow and closes his eyes to just block out the world a bit longer.

Chapter Text

Citrus had nearly slipped into a pit while the trio skirted around two Hawks, Ratchet snatching him by his straps as chattering teeth fell from his grasp to the sands below. She puts him in front of Brooks, “Watch your feet in the shadows.”

Her words are firm but lacking the sharpness that Captain would have corrected with. The two crewmates nod and double check their steps as she remains alert above them. No other entities cross their path while strafing along the cliffs. Not even the ground rumbles like yesterday, the area is oddly empty but that means the two crewmates at the ship had less to deal with. Hopefully. 

Arriving at the ship she notices white fragments all over the sandy stone. Kneeling down to examine it it feels like porcelain, this is a chunk of a comedy mask. Standing quickly and checking the front of the ship to see no one has her on edge. Rook promised to stay out of trouble. 

“Brooks…Citrus stay back for a second.” 

She checks the side with the pieces of mask broken against the rock wall. Who the hell brought one of those things on board? No wonder he's been acting off.

Turning around with her sign drawn as she scans over the front, no damage shows up. So where are they? Silently sliding to the back she sees Chip curled up in his bunk and the water running in the bathroom. 

Suspicious.

Moving calmly over to green and giving him a small prod. There's a low displeased growl and he slowly rolls to face her. His neck has hand marks while his lips look mildly bruised. She squints at the marks and snaps her head towards the door, “What happened?”

“Got into a fight. Should see him.”

She doubts it's that simple, with these two it never is. By the way Chip isn't meeting her gaze and keeps his arms close to himself she suspects he's hiding something. She gently squeezes his shoulder, “I want to know more before Captain returns. I'll have to report this.”

Eyes go wide at the mention of the yellow man. He grabs her hand before flinching a little bit at showing his uneasiness. He shakes his head pointedly as if he doesn't want Captain to know. She knows Captain can be...hard on him but his unwillingness to communicate is getting old. Unfortunately they're both wearing marks so it's impossible to keep it quiet. She sighs and settles down with him, “Hey, it's ok. Will you need medical when we get back to Gordion?”

He takes a breath and looks away, nodding a little. He suddenly tenses and quickly signs, “Not Rook's fault.”

“I saw the broken pieces, are you hurt in a way that needs help now?”

He shakes his head once, growling in his throat as she checks his neck. He pushes her hand away and curls back up. That's one, time to check on the other troublemaker. Leaving Chip be before he's inevitably swarmed by the other two she walks to the bathroom door and knocks.

“Rook, open up.” 

There's an indescribable sound on the other side. She knocks again, “Don't make me come in there.”

Silence and then a high pitched, “Promise?”

Her eye twitches just a little, she doesn't have time for their games. Discarding her weapon she jimmies the door, twisting the handle up and back to disengage the lock. Rook squawks like a bird as she barges in, covering themself rapidly. She closes the door and pushes him against the glass of the shower.

“Wait! Wait wait! Ow!” He recoils as she takes hold of his wrist, examining his face and smirking, “He really did getcha good. The fuck you do this time? Chip says it's not your fault but he has strangulation marks and your nose’s near broken. So the fuck Rook?”

Rook flinches as she cuffs the side of his head. His free hand guards his head as she combs over his form, finding the other defensive bruises on his body. She glares at and breathes, "I told you to behave."

Rook flushes darkly, waving a hand in front of himself frantically, “I-I messed up and spiraled. We got into a fight, I don't remember it well! He ran and we got…got caught inside..”

She pauses, releasing his wrist and giving him some room to breathe. Rook scratches under his chin while not meeting her eyes, “I don't remember the fight. I thought he started it but it was clearly me. He ran so fast and we got a little turned around. I got us out but not unscathed.”

Ratchet sighs and gives him a quick few tests to make sure his nose isn't actually broken or that he's not concussed. He's in the clear for now. Not fully satisfied with the two’s honesty but she can at least work with what she's been told. Rook started a fight Chip ran from. He ran inside the facility and in doing so got both caught by something but they managed to get back. That's all the rest needed to know, maybe she can omit the encounter part. What harm would a little omission bring anyway?

“Alright, finish cleaning up-” 

“Wait.”

She turns towards him and quirks a brow. Rook fidgets with his towel, he's not normally so withdrawn so she knows even he's not telling her everything but she isn't surprised. These two don't have loose tongues, never have. Probably never will.

“I tried to be good, to behave. Someone brought a mask on board and after listening to it laughing at me all of yesterday I tore the storage apart. My memory is…patchy after that.”

That adjusts some of her thoughts, the other two didn't seem to have found a mask yesterday but she could be wrong. She doesn't remember seeing Captain's scrap log. He'd know better than that right? This isn't the first time a similar incident has happened, Chip admitted to bringing the tragedy mask back but swore it wasn't on purpose. Rook was not happy for a while after that.

“Hey, you messed up but got both of you back in one piece. That's something for sure, stop beating yourself up over it. You didn't abandon him or run off in a fugue state so I say you did pretty good. I'll find something to reward you with later. But I'll still have to work on your disobedience.” A sly smile caps off her sentence and she watches his eyes go wide and unfocused as his cheeks flush deeply once more. Using his stall out to slip back into the ship proper she grabs her sign and sighs loudly, “You two could benefit being a bit more truthful.”

There's a disagreeing grumble from the only occupied bunk as she passes. He really could fare to be less stubborn. Brooks and Citrus were practically piled on top of each other to get a good look at the back. They stand up straight as she speaks, “Go check on them. No monsters got in at least.”

Chip was not ready for two puppy eyed crewmates at his bunk as soon as Ratchet left. He looks over his shoulder and gives a little huff, too much attention. Citrus backs off since he knows better but Brooks remains. When purple comes out and the other two take in his new injuries the cabin explodes with orange yelling about them fighting. He smacks Rook on the arm, “You two had one job! Rest! How on earth are you two fit enough to haul off on each other?!”

Rook guards his tender bits from the raging firecracker, getting dressed before answering, “I don't know. Blows off steam sometimes. Ack-!” He's hit in the face with a pillow by orange, "There's better ways to blow steam than that!"

Citrus then glares at Chip who does not take it well, pressing into the sheets to hide from the piercing gaze. Hands shakily sign, “They started it.”

“I don't care about that, you two know better. I swear…” Citrus' weapon of choice meets Chip's back before it's tossed back into his bunk while he heads back to the front. Rook looks at the last two before following with his tail between his legs. It left Brooks alone with Chip who would rather be completely alone after today. He can not avoid the sharp eyes of blue who notices the bruising on his neck.

“The hell happened?” 

“I don't want to talk about it.” He feels a little guilty not coming clean but he honestly felt like he's being dogged on enough as is. Brooks shifts closer, not wanting to drop it. To head off the questions he signs simply, “Both lost. Please drop it.”

A dissatisfied 'hrrmp' puffs air against the back of his neck which has him tense for a moment. The ghost of Rook growling against his neck whispers in his mind. Inhaling slowly to disburse the intrusive memory, Chip turns to face him. Tired green eyes observe calculating brown eyes comb over his neck. Anger is there, the thought of picking a fight burns clearly in Brooks’ face but Chip pokes him for his attention, “Leave it. Please, we fight sometimes. It's nothing, really.”

Brooks doesn't look convinced but listens, “Fine…fine, I won't harass him. Sounds like Citrus is doing plenty of that.”

“It wasn't his fault. Things happen.” The suspicion suddenly lay thick as Brooks’ eyes wandered over him. Chip laid in a way no one should be able to see his stomach so he tries not feeling exposed under the scrutiny. It's not something to concern everyone about. Especially Captain.

“Don't defend someone who is hurting you.” Brooks finally says, which makes Chip a bit angry. It's not like he chooses this!

“It's not like that!” His lip twitches with a grumbling growl, lifting himself while fingers grip the sheets. His fiery retort finally gets through to Brooks who drops back on the floor. Satisfied that he'll finally stop asking questions Chip tucks his arms under his chest and settles down.

“Ok, okay. I'm sorry I shouldn't have assumed.”

Ratchet calls for Brooks so he reluctantly leaves. Left alone Chip hides under the blankets to steal some rest. He wants to be done with Offense but they have to wait till dark.

They have to wait for Captain to return. He...he won't know about this, right? Will Ratchet tell him? Green grips the sheets, he's been getting angry with him.

He's scared.

_-_-_

One man continues to collect scrap, satisfied that the pile he left with each unload was being collected. Bodies of entities mark his path as he retraces a hall towards the apparatus. Ratchet had informed him that the others are out so it's just him and any monster unlucky enough to cross his path. Captain is disappointed with the way this mission went. He had it laid out in his mind, if only everyone did their part correctly.

Bait and Citrus were to lead the way in and garner the Maneater's attention. They would have failed quickly if something else tailed after them. Bait always attracts high profile entities and doesn't have the patience to handle Maneaters. They would have had twice the eggs if Rook hadn't run off and found it instead. Now he's injured.

Although judging by Rook's injuries it could have seriously hurt either or both of them. Not a good use of two assets but a cabin trip wouldn't have put them too behind if that happened. Bait then finally gets the attention of something but it's not a profitable encounter and leaves him injured!

In Captain‘s Company opinion he would have taken Bait into the facility and made sure his job was done properly. Like before. Hmm..like before. Unfortunately Ratchet is too soft on him and stood her ground, keeping both of them in the ship. It doesn't make the dog so his job by spoiling him.

And that Brooks, getting closer to an asset not meant for him. He's just there to round out the numbers, not give those three any ideas. Leaf was good about keeping her distance. Maybe too good. The one before her wasn't too bad either, shame they never get past being paired with Bait. They were good employees.

Approaching the apparatus room he did not come across any further scrap. The facility was picked over quite thoroughly, good that means there will be plenty of backup scrap if Bait continues to fail, seems he needs to be reminded of his obligations.

Wonder if Rook found the present I left behind. He'll hear it from Ratchet if that's the case and hopes she doesn't suspect him. He was able to force the blame on Bait for the last incident. This should be no different after all the Company Assets must be used accordingly. It is unacceptable if the dog's performance continues to be this subpar. That level of failure needed. No. Required punishment. Possibly needs more hands on discipline. Can't simply do his job without his superior's guidance. Sometimes you just got to beat a dog. His wandering thoughts stop in the presence of the warm yellow glow of the heart of the facility.

The price for these are always a gamble but never not worth trying to get. Pulling the release level the whole place shudders and warnings light up his visor. Ignoring them the man grabs hold of the pulse light and pulls. With a rusty groan he yanks the mini nuclear core free and sends the facility into darkness. 

Captain is not afraid of this, he never has been. Walking with purpose and mental map in hand he dares a monster to attack. They'll just be added to the pile. A wandering hoarder bug had no time to even turn before he had broken its exoskeleton under boot. Nothing else challenges the dangerous human as he pushes open the door. 

The Hawks and Dogs were fighting over by a nest so he was able to easily get back to the ship. Ratchet notices him first and nudges Blue who disappears into the back.

“Ratchet, anything to report?”

“Scrap secured. Rook and Chip got into a fight with minor injuries, nothing to take us off schedule.”

So it was found.

Glancing at the stone outside he spies shattered white pieces of porcelain. It worked but maybe not. Did they end up inside the facility? To ask that might tip his hand in the matter so if she doesn't volunteer more information then he'll have to try it again later.

Placing the apparatus in a slot outside the ship he examines the shattered pieces. So the masks are very durable, interesting. For something that is porcelain in nature he's mildly impressed with the monster’s durability. He was hoping Rook would successfully shatter it so he could collect the pieces and send it off to the Company to investigate. He must have thrown it over the rock wall.

Returning inside Captain eyes Rook who shrinks away from his scathing glare. His nose looks pretty beat up, Bait really does fight dirty, no respect for the rules. Something he's only embraced as time has worn on. What an animal.

He brushes past to check the log information. Chunks of video data are missing which he's unfortunately not surprised about, he can't keep him out of the system. Rook butchered the video files so he can't tell what happened. He sees them finding the mask, the storage is torn apart. He then disappears out the front with the object. It cuts to twenty minutes later as Bait sneaks to the edge of the interior and peers around the corner for a few minutes before stumbling back and disappearing into the back area. The feed cuts off to static for a few minutes before flickering back into focus with Bait running off with the other not far behind. The outside camera doesn't catch much of the chase before both assets are out of frame.

He glances towards purple with a disappointed sigh, the video doesn't reveal anything about Rook's condition which was what he hoped for. Pity Bait is not as injured and got away. Have to try correctly later.

Casting his gaze towards red's way she is upset but not giving him an accusatory glare. Good, the last incident has muddied the waters enough. I wonder if she suspects Bait. He turns back to the terminal and flatly states, "Seems like just a fight. Nothing to log to the Company. Where's the other one?”

“Chip's in the back with the other two.” She doesn't seem thrilled giving up the dog but she has put herself between him and Rook. He moves on and sees Citrus leaning over his bunk to talk to blue and Bait, who is also in his bunk. All three snap to attention like deer in headlights. Bait looks away immediately but the other two are not as aware of his motives. Captain keeps an excellent pokerface, eyebrow only twitching with intrigue at the guiltiness on the mutt's face. He'll have to deal with him when they land and he's left alone. 

“We're heading to Gordion so get some rest.”

_-_-_

Keys clack as Captain adds the mission logs. Most of the others have gone to sleep so he's left alone to think. He manages to pull some camera footage from Bait's helmet of their struggle in the back area. Because of its location it doesn't catch everything but seems to see the peak of the altercation.

‘Rook slams Bait onto the floor, pulling his hand free and pinning him down by the neck. A blanket blocks both of their upper bodies but the panicked kicking was soon followed by Rook getting knocked off and Bait disappearing behind the blanket. Rook readjusts and lashes out which is dodged, socked feet scramble for the discarded walkie before getting pulled into the air. A minute passes when green reappears, abandoning the task and running. Rook follows less than a minute later leaving a few blood puddles behind.’

So it looks like Rook started it after Bait tried hiding in the back. Damnit these things don't have audio, will have to apply more pressure on red for audio capabilities. Hmm..

He rewinds and watches it slowly, trying to see if the small lens shows anything strange with Rook but it's too dark and the resolution doesn't reveal anything but the fact they fought. He forwards to when they return, looks to be almost two hours later. ‘Muddy boots amble into frame, linger for a moment before equally muddy socks are placed down. Green stumbles with purple moving to catch but stops. Their clothes have more than just mud but in the light it's hard to tell.’

Was there an encounter?

‘Bait steps out of frame and after a shake of the screen purple spins around on his heel. Not much else is gleaned as he moves about the cabin and disappears in the other direction.’

Nothing really interesting, doesn't look like Rook was successful in subduing him. If he wasn't injured he would have been, what would have happened then? Hmm... I suspect there was an encounter with their behavior. The pup had such a guilty face earlier. But I was not informed of this incident and will look incompetent when there will be conflicting reports. Did Bait and Rook lie to red? Or did she take pity and lie to me? An oversight that will be corrected.

He locks the video files but suspects it'll disappear before they leave Gordion. Rook is too good with the terminal. It's aggravating, he's effortlessly destroyed his work no matter how many locks and firewalls the Company puts in. Thankfully he's easily threatened in person, unlike Bait who's been far more stubborn. Used to be so breakable, but is getting too comfortable with more bodies that let him get away with…unauthorized behavior. A grin pulls at his lips. Will have to fix that, if only he behaved. Looks like the mutt needs more lessons. 

I do love my job.

Just before pushing away to log off an incoming email ping takes over the whole screen. The computer begins buzzing as if straining to handle the file that was just sent. 

It feels foreboding as he doesn't receive live emails before they leave for the next mission. Blinking at the blank sender he squares his jaw, there's been blank senders before but a strange fuzziness, almost static, reaches the edges of the icon. Steeling his nerves, Captain opens it. Inside there's nothing but jumbled words, numbers and letters crammed together. It overlaps and bleeds into an incoherent mess that the terminal fans kick on to cool the system. Trying to read anything gives him a near migraine but as he tabs further down the email something begins to form. The fans whirr loudly and a warning of system overheating blips in the corner of the screen. The man ignores it in favor of hopefully deciphering the strange email.

Carved out in a font that's unfamiliar to anything he's encountered on any computer of the Company is one word FEED. It seems something craves more than just scrap and Captain has learned it is unwise to ignore such a demand. The computer can barely handle the mess and size of the file, deleting it quickly as the fans whirr loudly. A ‘system error’ flashes across the screen before changing to ‘system reboot’.

The terminal shuts down and Captain is staring at himself in the dusty reflection of the screen. What the fuck was that? 

Chapter Text

Captain was working on final reports after what happened, the terminal finally rebooted after an hour. He poured through the system to ensure nothing was corrupted or lost. If something was the ship might get stranded, thankfully nothing was wrong but the course was delayed. I have neglected getting the dog under control. If he was doing his damn job that wouldn't have happened. I won't allow my complacency to give him ideas. 

He was writing a report about Bait's performance when his ears pick up movement from the back. Glancing at the time it couldn't be Rook so he temporarily logs out and switches to the order logs. Brooks wanders out, rubbing his eyes, “Oh, apologies did I wake you up? The terminal went down so my work got pushed back.”

Brooks yawns, “No just…having a hard time sleeping.”

“You're still recovering from losing your crew right? The trip back is always…lonely.” Captain turns, using his own experience to hopefully garner Brooks’ sympathy. Blue nods and scratches his beard, “Can I just sit here? Maybe talk? I'm not tired enough to try and sleep.”

“Of course. And I apologize for being so curt earlier, I hold a very tight ship and want to make sure new employees can step up to the challenges. Ratchet doesn't always agree with my methods.”

Brooks sits at the workbench, his eyes covered by his loose hair as he speaks flatly, “Challenges eh? Like some of the crew being raped by monsters?”

Captain runs a hand through his own long grayish hair, he knows. Of course he knows he found Bait. “Yes, it's a part of the ‘experimental' side of this crew. The Company uses this unique opportunity to…study the entities in a way that's unobtainable otherwise. It's a part of their contacts so I try to ensure they hold up their end of things. Wouldn’t want to see them be accused of breaking their contract. That ends poorly for all involved.”

Brooks looks away in thought, not speaking for a while so Captain starts the orders for the ship. He misses Brooks square his jaw and scowl at the back of his head. They'll need to top off the water, food and new uniforms. For such subpar work the mutt runs through uniforms. Blue wanders over with interest, Captain allowing him to read over his shoulder, “I'm sure you're familiar with the ordering system?”

“Fitz always did that so no actually. Don't you think more medical supplies is a smart choice? Considering how hurt Chip seems to get.”

Ah, you have a soft spot. I'll have to fix that . “Good call, #2171 can get himself into trouble too so I'll add some extra. You seem soft with #5328, he can be very troublesome.”

“#2171...#5328?” The tone is questioning as it's clear this is the first time Brooks has heard Bait's employee number. He slipped up, but doesn't show it, “Been writing reports all night. The Company system doesn't recognize nicknames. Sometimes it's hard to shift gears.”

Blue nods, appearing to except his answer, “I bet for such a big crew, it must be difficult.”

Captain smiles, grinning to himself that his words are being well received. They work on the order until both seem satisfied with it. Hitting send Captain stretches, “Just one more report and I'll be settling in. Oh got distracted, you seem to have a small soft spot for Chip. He can be very abrasive and have erratic episodes when he experiences a bad encounter. Unfortunately it's hard to tell when those fits happen so please come to me if there's any issues. I try to help but he can lash out.”

“I mean I’d lash out too if I had to deal with what he does. It sounds awful.”

“Yes but it doesn’t excuse lashing out at other crew members. Especially fighting.” He hopes his words lay seeds of doubt in Brooks' mind. Keeping Bait isolated has been fairly easy with a comment here or a broken item there. The man has to start early as Blue seems quite capable and will probably be around for much longer than the others. He'll will have to play his cards right. There's a yawn from the taller man and the other advises him to go and sleep. With a sluggish nod the newest crewmate walks to the back, leaving yellow to finish his report.

_-_-_

Gordion was not raining today so landing was easy. The sky is still thick, cloudy and sunless. Captain delegates tasks and sets the crew loose to handle them. The ship empties out quickly except for one who has disappeared into the back during debrief. He was looking a bit paler than normal.

Feeling nauseous little dog?

He thought he'd have to have another conversation with the newest member but Citrus had dragged him off to complete their tasks. The small crewmate yaps excitedly to someone who will hold a verbal dialogue. Their desire to build a new connection after such a mission left the most vulnerable behind. Which makes his job easier. Silently Captain walked through the hallway and waited for the last asset to try and leave.

Coming from the bathroom still looking green around the gills, Bait hadn't noticed he's the last one on the ship. It wasn't until he made eye contact with Captain that it clicks. The look of unease is overtaken with discomfort he tries to hide. A smirk tugs at the yellow man’s lips causing green to pull away and look past him but Captain doesn't allow a plan to be formed, “Where are you going pup ?”

There's an offended glare and growl, “Chip.”

“Ah hah…no.” The retort is low, dismissive which has the hackles rise on the other. He doesn't back down when Captain approaches, baring his teeth like he's the predator here. Rage flashed in his mind like fire, glaring down with a tight lip. Now that won't do . 

He's certainly neglected his job, time to remind his dog who's in charge. Captain stands over him with a squinted twitching smile, cornering the other with his presence alone. When Bait isn’t fully intimidated, he fluidly grabs his right arm, pulling him down and off balance before twisting it behind his back. Knocking a leg out from under the shorter asset he forces his subordinate onto his knees. Yellow finishes by pinning him against his bunk with his own body as he watches terror overtake the pain on Bait's face. Ah, much better . The takedown took seconds but the fear is what he was looking for.

“Oh good, you do remember who's in charge. Thought I'd have to remind you, don't have as many opportunities to anymore with these soft hearted employees.” He growls into his ear, feeling the body under him start to shake. Always so detached but the moment you overpower him that scared little dog returns. Using teeth to pull his glove off his free hand he wraps it around his throat. Just enough pressure is applied to have Bait struggle, “If you behaved I wouldn't have to be this rough.”

He quickly presses his dog's face into the mattress, gripping a fistful of hair so he can't turn his head to breathe. Waiting till the struggling gets desperate he releases Bait, who takes a deep ragged gasp, “I-I'm sorry..!”

“We'll just have to see how sorry you are.” Captain purrs into his ear while flicking the zipper of his jacket. Wide eyes stare into nothing as he unzips his jacket slowly, feeling the body under him squirm. Sliding his palm along the hem of his shirt Captain discovers a rounded abdomen, “So you did have an encounter.”

He trails his fingers up to brown hair, tangling digits in the locks before pulling his head back off the sheets. A pained whimper comes from Bait as he growls into his ear, “And you thought you could hide it from me? ”

There's a pull to push further which Captain contemplates giving in to. Listening to the sounds of pain coming from the mutt has him thinking. They all just left, none will want to come back early since it's not raining. He has at least two hours to play with and will be using every minute. There's more than enough time for Captain to show just how sorry the dog should be. His hesitation and momentary lapse of thought has Bait break out of the spell he has on him. The dog twists into his grasp and kicks him away, shaking and cradling the arm that was pinned. Captain looks at his uniform and brushes the spot he kicked, bad dog. “Pity I was hoping Rook would have gotten to you but it seems you're too slippery when he's that injured. Will just have to try again later.”

That catches his attention. Bait stands up straighter, head tilting a little as if he doesn't believe what he's saying. Eyes flit to his face before moving to the side in thought and dawning horror. The man strides forward with him distracted, purring in a mockingly sweet voice, “ What ? Think I wouldn't employ old tricks just because there's more employees? You're forgetting your place Bait, do I need to make it painfully–” a loud slap rings out, Bait's head snapped to the side with a stunned expression, “clear? Hmm?”

The mutt stumbles from shock, Captain grabbing his shirt and easily forces him onto the floor. He stands over him before crouching down, a hand gripping his face and the other latched onto his throat. Bait struggles but the man has him pinned, “Rabid animals should be put down. Are you rabid? Perhaps it's better for the Company that I start over with #3281.” 

Bait chokes and struggles with both panic and anger, threatening the little orange asset seems to always set the dog off. He bares his teeth, “L- leave him alone–” He is once again slapped, “Dogs will speak when commanded!”

He still resists but after Captain pulls him up and slams him on the floor he finally stops fighting. Panting and whining from his head aching after bouncing off the floor Bait is dazed. The man takes an arm and twists him onto his stomach, there’s pained sounds as the mutt’s guts shift. Oh can’t risk breaking those. Pulling him flush up against his chest he listens to the weak whines. Trailing his hand to cup under his face, Captain pulls his dog's head back and growls, “No one is going to save you but me. The least you can do, dog , is do as I command.”

Bait groans under his breath, face tense from pain. His eyes snap open as his superior draws his tongue over his cheek, reflexively pulling away from the touch he despises. Captain wretches his arm painfully until he stops struggling. The man licks him again, enjoying his discomfort.

“Sit.” The command is sharp and final as he releases his arm and watches as he sinks onto his calves. Bait stares at him, expression unreadable but not one of pure fear like he wants. There's still some fight left, what a stubborn dog . Captain pets his head, “See you can listen, unfortunately this doesn't get you out of your punishment.”

Grabbing the dog’s face and forcing him to look at him, he whispers with a sickly sweet voice, “If you disobey and run I'll have no choice but to take your punishment out on #3281. Now be good and Stay.”

He watches dread creep across Bait’s face, when he drops his face his head falls. He wouldn't dare risk someone else taking on his mistakes. Captain strides to the uniform locker, watching the form on the floor flinch. He knows what Captain hides in the locker. Rummaging at the bottom he finds an old bag, unzipping and fishing out a smaller yet heavy bag and a bottle. Checking the bag he nods and returns to the shaking body. The dog is waiting for his next command, shoulders hunched against his neck as if that's going to protect him. 

“Strip.”

The mutt jolts at the command, hands raising in surrender but he doesn't move. Do you doubt me? His steady unwavering gaze flares with anger as he stoops down and drags the lighter body to his feet, “Are you deaf now too? Dogs don't wear clothes, Strip.”

Bait’s mouth opens but a threat of being struck again finally has him complying. His jacket is removed and dropped to the floor, eyes staring into nothing as his fingers ghost over the many bite scars on his shoulders. Off goes the white tank to join the jacket. Trembling hands unbuckle his belt, hesitating for a moment before a sharp sound from his superior has him dropping them. Bent over to step out of his pants, Captain strikes. Punching down on the back of Bait's head he sent him to his knees. A yelp of shocked pain is half swallowed as he covers his head from any more hits.

“I tell you very simple commands, I am only this harsh because you don't listen. Finish undressing.” He watches Bait cower for a brief moment before obeying. He is soon laid bare and tucked in on himself on the floor. Good. Stepping closer to the bunk the man then slowly places objects from the bag out, letting the mutt see what could be used on him.

Cuffs don't get much of a reaction, just a barely heard noise deep in his chest. Next a thick red gag is placed to the left of the cuffs. Bait whimpers in discomfort, squirming in place. Captain purrs demeaningly, “Oh, if you don't want it then don't speak. I'm not a bad man, I just have to do these things when you misbehave.”

Choosing to withhold the last two items he forms his plan as Bait kneels before him naked and looking a whole lot more afraid. Moving towards him has the dog press against the floor, shaking and watching him. Oh, so disobedient.

“Up.”

A grimace forms on his face as Bait straightens up on his knees, hands remaining low in case he kicks him. 

“I'm not so cruel to kick you while you're full of eggs, that's bad for business. Now be a good dog and put it on.” He dangles the thick black collar right in front of his face. Come on and resist, I want to watch the fire leave your eyes . Bait breaks and leans away from it like it's on fire, his breathing changes to shallow gasps. Eyes widen as he drops back, hands signing while he begs, “Pl-please n-NNngh!!”

Captain moves like a viper and slams him onto his back with his knife drawn, pressing the tip under his chin. Terror has the dog giving high pitched wails before the blade cuts him deep enough to bleed, “Are you a rabid dog? If you are, I should just kill you for the good of the Company.”

A rage filled gaze scours over the dog's face, thoroughly pleased to see tears pouring out of unfocused eyes. The message is clearly received so he releases him. Ragged gasps and broken whimpers is all his dog can give as trembling hands take the collar. He puts it on, fastening it before tensing at the jingle of the tag. The round silver tag with #5328 stamped on it jingles faintly with every move. Captain plunges two fingers between skin and leather, making sure there's enough space. 

Satisfied Captain sheaths the knife, “Good dog. However,” he slaps his face and presses a hand against his throat, “What good is a dog that won't follow orders? Must be something wrong with its head for it to want me to hurt it, then continue to fight as if its life means anything.”

The man straddles his hips just like Rook had to purposely set him off. Bait kicked and grabbed his arms in panic, unable to dislodge Captain like he had Rook. Green eyes widen in fear as the larger man leans harder on his throat, effectively cutting off air. Hands push on his superior’s arms, only strong enough to steal one or two gasps. The man growls low, words pooling around Bait's ears, “Maybe I should find a new dog since you're so broken. Perhaps it's time to train #3281, I won't make the same mistakes as I did with you.”

The struggling slowly stops at the threat of subjecting the only other asset that his mutt has a connection to. Tried so hard to isolate yourself, you can't even do that properly. Bait squeezes his eyes shut as tears well up, his misery is the sweetest honey. 

“Are you going to obey? Are you going to be good?” He eases his grip, listening to the wet gasping and ragged coughing. Pulling his face closer by the collar he reiterates his questions louder, “So what's it going to be mutt? Speak.”

Bait swallows, flinching in pain but opens his mouth and gives a defeated bark. The look of humiliation nearly has Captain decide to face fuck him to enjoy that shame longer. Doing so would leave too much evidence so not today. He removes himself from the dog who lays there waiting for his commands, “On your hands and knees like the animal you are.”

A split second of anger at such a degrading demand is snuffed out by a pain filled wince. He rolls onto his hands and knees, hair blocking his eyes but clear drops fall onto the cold floor, whether sweat or tears didn't matter. The sight of it mixing with the smeared blood gives Captain a deep sense of satisfaction. Bait's limbs are shaking, making the collar jingle as if to remind him his place. Captain steps heavily towards the dog, watching him flinch and press himself down against the floor when Captain stands over him. Good, be afraid.

“Sit,” Bait is quick to do so, getting more poisonous praise by obeying without fight, “Now, put your arms behind your back.”

That was also followed hastily, fisted hands meeting at the wrists behind his back. Captain rewards him with a pleased hum while fastening the cuffs. He drags Bait to his feet, forcing him to face him. The dog winces being dragged around like he was nothing. You are nothing.

“You lied to me. You know what I have to do when you lie.”

“Pl-please don't-” A smack rings out as Captain slaps the disobedient mutt. Bait's head snapping to the right, eyes wide as he staggers. He circles behind him, striking the back of his leg to force him back on his knees. The pain filled yelp was like music. 

“I didn't give you permission to speak,” He snarls into his ear, looping an arm over his shoulder and tugging on the D ring of the collar, “are you just asking for discipline? Have I been too kind?”

Bait doesn't respond, shakily shrinking in on himself in his superior‘s grasp. Captain takes the gag and dangles it in front of him. This he rejects, he can't help it, pulling away and whining pathetically. Captain snatches the collar and yanks him upright by it, locking an arm around his neck. There's some struggle as he has to choke him into compliance, “Open your disobedient mouth.”

Lips tighten together with a quivering jaw before he swallows around the collar. The dog opens his mouth as tears well up once more in his eyes. Captain mocks him with that sweet dipped voice, “See such an obedient mutt.”

The gag fits past his teeth, settling in a familiar spot as the tears break and stream down his face. Captain chuckles darkly as he snugly tightens the gag in place, “You only have yourself to blame.”

He is commanded to sit, doing so with dull eyes. Captain sits on the bunk and clicks his tongue loudly, “Oh look at you listening, too bad you fought me so much. This is going to hurt me as much as I'll hurt you.”

The man snatches his collar and forces him over his knees. Bait yelps and struggles a little from discomfort in his stomach. He freezes up as Captain runs his palm over the scarred skin of his lower back. The fear of being hit is taking firm as he lowers his head against his thigh. 

“Pain seems to be your only teacher, why do you make me have to hurt you?” He growls over the body that begins to shake. He raises a hand and smacks Bait’s ass which makes him arch and cry out around the gag. He squirms in his lap only to be held in place with his collar and struck again. Tears wet the sheets as Bait digs his nails into his own arms from the pain.

“I wonder if #3281 would be as disobedient as you. Perhaps I should start his training on the next moon, hmm?” He grabs Bait's neck and pulls him against his chest as he strikes again, “Just like I did you. He has a strong spirit. It'll be fun to watch that fire fade. Should I make you watch?”

He smacks him hard on the hip, getting a sharp bark of pain behind the gag. Pinning him back down by his neck, Captain raises his hand. Again and again cracks of palm against skin ring out until the mutt's sounds are reduced to pitiful wailing. Tears streak from his face and his body goes limp in his superior’s grasp, sobbing and whining. Captain grins and rubs the reddened skin, “You really do have a soft spot for him. Well, we'll see if he wants such a broken mutt like you around.” 

With his dog all prettied up he pushes him off his lap, a whine coming from the abused body as he hits the floor. Captain commands him to get up as he stands, Bait struggles from his place on the ground but does so. He doesn’t meet his eyes, the fire is gone so time for the fun part. There’s little resistance as he bends him over his bunk. When hands settle on his reddened ass, a tiny pleading whimper resonates in Bait's throat. A last ditch effort to escape what’s next.

“Nothing you do will stop me from fucking you. You had the choice to behave and chose to lie. Is that the thanks I get for keeping you safe? I only ask one thing and you just can't do it. I shouldn't have let your leash get so long.” The lube cap snaps open and he pours some on his gloved fingers. Placing it aside he spreads his ass, watching him tense reflexively. Bait hides his face and doesn't make a sound as he presses two fingers inside. He's looser, expected with the last few days. Just means he won't have to stretch him much, “See I'm not a bad master, I make sure you're taken care of when you listen.” 

He enjoys watching the mutt shiver when he finds that little spot. It makes him so desperate to please him to make it end. Pouring more lube onto his fingers as he works a third in, listening to Bait whimper. That's plenty.

Removing his fingers and tossing his glove, Captain smoothly undoes his own pants. He is throbbing at the sight of the bound up body. Despite this being a punishment he's not going to cause himself pain, rubbing lube on from tip to base. His silence starts to make his dog antsy, getting him to jump as he presses against the loose hole.

“Oh, do you want this? Do you enjoy being punished?”

A muffled denial and shake of his head cuts off as Captain sinks inside. He grabs a fistful of brown hair, “You keep speaking mutt.”

Snapping his hips hard into Bait he gives a low moan. He's missed this. Too many soft hearted fools that have prevented him from ensuring his dog remains subjugated. Red with her softer side doesn't ensure a job gets done. His agitation leads to him railing Bait into his bunk, wanting him to remember this long after today. His rough treatment causes his dog to squirm in pain from being pinned against the metal frame. Captain releases his hair and grabs up under his chin, pulling him back and letting the collar jingle. The mutt resists being pinned against his chest, the angle has always made him fight. Holding firm and grabbing onto his hip Captain slams mercilessly into his captive. His nails bite into skin as he thrusts through him, as if Bait is just an obstacle to his own pleasure.

“Give in, you're mine.” He whispers into the shell of his ear, feeling a deep shudder run down the form caught in his web. Biting his ear has Bait whine and wriggle but his eyes are glazed over. He's dropping right where he wants him to be, “Forget yourself, surrender your mind.”

The change is near instantaneous, his breathing changes to deep pants. Saliva slips past the gag with each heated breath but all sounds devolve into needy little mewls. Captain undoes the gag, letting it fall onto the blankets. Bait doesn't notice, tongue slipping past his teeth and eyes unfocused. 

“Good pet, I'm going to cum in you. Do you want that? Speak.” The question is meaningless. Even if he denies it he doesn't have a choice, he will take whatever his master gives him. Captain simply wants to see just how deep he sent him.

“...yes..”

Oh that's a delicious sign. “Yes, what pet?”

“... pl-please cum,” there's a momentary pause with an expression of discomfort, “..in me..”

He's completely gone, something the man hasn't seen in a long time. It has him desiring to consume him, to leave nothing behind but a puppet made to be used. Pressing his chest to the bunk Captain slams into him, not caring to please his pet. There's no sounds of distress, just soft moans and mewls of pleasure. Nails drag down his hips, “Ready pet?”

“...please…sir..”

Captain growls and drags him back to the hilt, slamming himself as deep as he can before pumping white into the dubiously willing body. Gritting his teeth at the euphoric release he thrusts shallowly to get every last drop inside. Bait is panting, head to the side and eyes rolled back. He doesn't speak, just whimpers at every little move of his superior. Captain reaches out to scratch between the space where his hair meets the collar, “Good pet.”

Bait leans into his touch, biting his lip and shivering at the gentleness after being used like the toy he is. Holding still he observes his pet get more flushed before grinding back on his length. Not done yet hmm? Unhooking the cuffs so heavy arms fall to the side, he pulls out slowly, “On the bed pet.”

It takes a moment for the sluggish limbs to work but his pet pulls himself up onto his bunk. The man pauses a moment to pull a stretch of fabric from the bag nearly forgotten on the bed. Before his pet notices he wraps it around his head, covering his eyes. Captain then pushes him onto his back, “Paws up.”

Bait shakily rests his hands against his upper chest, fingers curled up. Captain loops the cuffs through the D ring, leaving him in a permanently begging position. The man enjoys the view before fully removing his pants. His pet whines being so vulnerable but unable to see, his neglected erection weeping pitifully. Climbing in after him the man pulls Bait into his lap, rubbing his belly and laying praise on thick while he's lost deep in subspace. Ghosting his fingers over his length he breathes, “Does my pet want to cum?”

There's not an immediate response, he's waiting for permission. Oh you're so gone. Shame I don't have this recorded. “Speak.”

Bait whines and barks, hiding his face behind his paws and turning his head away. Captain pulls his hands away from his mouth, “Does my pet want to cum?”

“...i w-want..to cum…” The words are slow, sticky like it's difficult for him to form them, “..sir…”

Pouring a little extra lube on the now abused hole, rubbing his hard cock against the soft skin. His pet shivers and pulls uselessly at his cuffs as he strokes his shaft. Sliding back inside he thrusts slowly, working up to a steady pace. It's not enough to satiate the needy pet under him. Pumping his hand in time with his thrusts, Captain drags his nails up his chest. Unable to cover sensitive flesh, Bait is left whining and pulling at his binds. Fingers run along his side, settling by grabbing onto his ribs. Bait jumps at the sudden firm grasp, moaning heatedly and biting his hand to muffle his sounds.

“Good pet, wouldn't want to be found out. We'd have to stop. You want to cum right? Be good and stay quiet for me.” Captain breathes while leaning over, teeth brushing against unmarked flesh. His breath fans across the pale expanse while Bait pleads, “...more pl-please…”

The man bites him, getting a high pitched cry of shock, “You’re not in charge, you'll take what I give and you will thank me for it.”

“...y…yes sir…”

He pats his face and trails his nails back to his ribs, watching his head fall back. The man drags his teeth over heated skin, teasing out mewling sounds while his pet’s legs shake. Bait's knees squeeze against his sides as he begins to slam into him hard and fast. His sounds build, wordlessly begging for something, anything. Captain can feel his inner walls tense and pulse around his shaft. His pet is getting close, “Listen to you sing .”

Bait's breathing hitches, chin tucking against his chest before falling back against the sheets. Angling up and thrusting into that little spot he pushes his pet over the edge. Muscles spasm as Bait comes all over his stomach. Captain doesn't allow him a moment of rest, hooking a hand under his knee and slamming roughly. His pet gives a breathless howl, voice raw from just cumming.

“You wanted this, you're going to cum again and again . You begged for me to let you cum and I am nothing if not accommodating.” He growls, pinning Bait's leg over his shoulder. He doesn't let him breathe, building up to a mercilessly rutting force. His pet starts to fail keeping quiet so Captain slams his hand over his mouth, “Don't make me gag you again.” 

Bait is not paying attention, much too gone. With so many senses denied to him he is unraveling, hips bucking against his brutal pace as if he isn't getting enough. A desperate scream is clawed out past his pet's teeth, barely contained by his firm grasp. He can't help but smirk at watching the dog squirm in near overstimulation as he does not stop trying to break the frame with him. His own second wave building he pulls his other leg up onto his shoulder and grabs on his arms, “What a greedy dog.”

Captain rails into the trembling form until Bait is uncontrollably moaning, near screaming. He can get one more out of him and completely drown him. Leaning into his neck he feels him push against his chest, “Oh~ My little pet you'll never forget what I do to you.”

He presses hard into him, getting a breathless mewl from the dog before pulling out. Bait makes a confused whimper with being suddenly empty, legs squeezing together. Even with him blindfolded his expression of loss is clear as he squirms, hands noisily tugging on the cuffs. Captain strokes the pale shaft to full attention making his captive pant and strain at his binds to try and get away. So sensitive~ 

Rubbing his fingers through the mess covering Bait's stomach he keeps him distracted from his movements by biting his thigh. The mutt wails and bucks to get himself free from the pain. Captain plunges his fingers inside and curls them up until the pup’s sounds devolve into incoherent begging. 

Moans and pleading whimpers melt into a delicious song that soon has the dog arching his back. Hands pull hard at the cuffs before clamping over his own mouth to silence the flood of sounds still breaking past his lips. Pumping his member and teasing his inner buttons soon breaks his mutt. Moans get breathy so Captain stops stroking his dick and gets himself back to full attention. Just as Bait tips over the edge with his third orgasm the man slams back inside with aggression. 

The pleasured moans turn to pleading cries, begging for mercy. Captain doesn't care, breathing heatedly and gritting his teeth. The man ravages the body under him, forcing him to scream. He snarls at him to be quiet, watching Bait cover his mouth as the blindfold gets wet with tears. Legs tense and shake against his unrelenting thrusts which almost makes him slip out. Captain snatches Bait’s hips forcefully, relishing in him arching off the bed. Pulling him into his thrusts has his end hitting hard and fast. Grunting and growling he hilts flush against his ass, “Take it all little pet.”

Coating the dog’s inner walls he moves a hand around his throat, pressing in as deep as he can. Leaning over his mutt he traps him against the bed, surrounding him at all angles. Bait squirms at the pressure on his neck, hands wrapping around his wrist but Captain just pushes harder. He removes the blindfold which has the dog flinching.

“Remember you wanted this. You grinded back and moaned like a bitch in heat. What a greedy little thing you are,” He wraps a second hand around the pale throat. Bait's eyes widened in confusion and fear, mouth opening wordlessly. 

“Begging for more after getting fucked like the animal you are. No one else would want such a broken toy and if you ever let anyone touch you like I do,” He leans closer, purring into his ear, “I'll make them watch me reclaim you and then kill them myself. There is nothing that'll take you from me .”

Fear overtakes the captive dog, tears streaming down his face as he thrashes under his grasp. The mutt's face gets redder with each passing second as his mouth opens to scream but nothing comes out. Legs squeeze against his sides as nails dig into his arms but it's useless to dislodge the stronger man. Feeling the muscles around his dick spasming as his mutt struggles was truly the perfect way to finish. Captain watches his eyes get more and more vacant, rolling back and closing as he grits his teeth. Soon the struggles get weaker and weaker. With a final pathetic kick Bait's head falls to the side, his body going limp. Measuring the slowing pulse the man eased his grip on his captive. A deep raw gasp fills the pup’s lungs but he remains unconscious. Checking his heart rate returning in strength he then times his breathing.

Releasing his hold, Captain busies himself with removing any evidence of his actions. The toys and himself are cleaned up as well as tidying up the dog. Captain leaves him there not caring who finds him if he is still unconscious by the time anyone returns. He'll wake up still filthy with his own cum and memories.

Chapter Text

“You think we’re the first back?” 

A question is left unanswered as two sets of footsteps ring out on the catwalk. Brooks steps back onto the ship with Citrus not far behind. There's no one in the front of the cabin so he believes he's correct with the question. However, going to the back he finds Chip crumbled next to his bunk, hyperventilating. His clothes are disheveled with him curled up on himself, white knuckles gripping the sheets. His face lost with a thousand yard stare. His expression is unreadable but his eyes are glassy so he might have cried at some point. How long has he been like this? 

Unsure of what to do he approaches cautiously and waves his hand to try and catch the other's attention. Wide green eyes flit up at him and pupils contracted in fear. He flinches and covers his head as his eyes unfocus and look through him. Cool, he's not all there. 

“Citru~s!” He calls out with concern, pitch rising to communicate urgency. Steps come quickly since it’s Brooks sounding worried. The orange crewmate bursts into the back looking for a fight but when he sees Chip his shoulders sag, “Oh no…”

Brooks looks lost as he’s not super good with calming someone down who’s this deep in a panic attack. Citrus winces and rolls up his sleeves, walking closer. He shoos Brooks away and kneels near the distant man, “H~ey, Chip you in there?”

There's no change, green is gripping his hair like a lifeline as he gasps for air, nails threatening to break skin. A hand falls from his hair and rests against his lower lip, biting at his fingertips and scratching his mouth. Blue wants to take hold of his hands but a single hand up and sharp look stops his advance, quietly reminding him not to touch him. When the other nods in understanding the smallest crewmate refocuses on his friend. He’s not so easily dissuaded from gentle tactics when drastic could end badly so he talks to Chip more. 

Talking doesn’t seem to break the spell green is in as blood wells up from his teeth breaking skin. So Citrus starts asking random questions, silly and unusual ones to catch his attention. Eyes focus long enough on orange that Chip pulls his hand away from his mouth and pushes himself further away from orange with a low whine. Hands rise up to show no ill intent but Citrus isn’t going to lose the chance, “Hey there. Can you tell me three things that you see? Maybe something blue?” 

Brooks is not sure Chip can speak or even sign in his current condition but he watches stiff limbs just barely relax as eyes look around. Green is very expressive when he's having an internal conversation, it's just good to see him coming back in the present. No words or signs come from the curled form but his breathing has calmed down and he seems more aware. Slowly green sits back against the side of his bunk, waving a shaky apology. Both of the others sigh with relief.

“Hey, it’s ok. You don’t need to apologize from something you can’t control. Need something tactile?” Citrus smiles kindly and offers his hands to which are shakily taken, the touch further calming him down. Chip rubs his fingers over his hands and arms, eyes still dull but feeling another person was helping. He jolts when he realizes his fingertips are bleeding, “Oh, you were biting yourself. You don’t look like you scratched your face though. Fingers heal quickly.”

Chip gets a bit uncomfortable before standing, suddenly looking like he has to escape. Is he embarrassed? Or does he feel cornered? Blue gets to his feet as well, noticing how unsteady green looks to be. He must have been stuck for a while because his legs don't want to carry him and Brooks moves instinctively to catch him.

The reaction is instantaneous, a loud hiss greets his gesture as Chip bares his teeth at him. It startles the other back as regret and fear etch across freckled skin. His mouth snaps shut and the smaller man cowers back. Arms wrap around himself so tightly that his knuckles whiten before leaving the ship without saying anything. Brooks was a bit speechless and hurt that he thought he was a threat. Citrus stands up and sighs, “That was bad. Did Captain yell at him?”

Horrified eyes turn towards him, yelled at?! Citrus jumps a bit at his face, bewildered words fall from blue’s lips, “That’s a reaction I’ve seen to someone who’s been beaten, not yelled at.”

Orange rubs his neck, eyes not meeting his, “Yeah, Capt’ can be real nasty to him. I haven’t seen him that catatonic in a while. He’s been doing real well lately. It's weird.” 

When orange grimaces but can’t offer much else to go on Brook scratches his neck, looking around he doesn’t really see anything out of the ordinary. What happened? Chip was fine earlier, paler than normal so he went to the back during debrief. Could have been nauseous as he had guessed that he wasn’t feeling good but that massive panic attack just…wasn’t adding up. 

The conversation from earlier with Captain plays in Brooks' mind. One thing is beginning to crystalize about the yellow suited man; he can’t trust his words. Captain has tried painting Citrus and Rook in poor light, Chip would be no different. Was he lying about being concerned? What does he have to gain doing that?  

Did he do something to Chip?

Did he even leave for medical before this happened? Should I follow him? 

I don’t remember him leaving…

To say he is growing to be suspicious of Captain is an understatement. Things aren’t adding up. Glancing towards the floor he stiffens at the sight of half dried blood on the floor, crouching down to get a closer look. It appears like it was missed in a hasty clean up as there’s a wiped down spot on the floor he would have otherwise overlooked. Alarm clouds in his thoughts, hanging thick around his mind. What happened ? 

He won't talk about this, shit…

Rubbing his face in frustration, Rook would be the best option to talk to but he’s equally tight lipped. Ratchet has been very firm with what questions he can ask. Ugh, why is there so much more than just the fear of dying. That's…arguably easier.

Folding his arms and sighing with resignation Brooks looks towards Citrus, “Is there anything to do to help with him?”

“It depends on what happened but he might wander to the mess hall after medical. I don't remember him eating anything recently. I know a spot we can wait for him. Just let me handle it til he calms down.” Citrus rubs his neck and climbs into his bunk for the lunch box he has. Brooks frowns, he is less than thrilled to see what these crewmates have to deal with. He looked so scared.

Citrus tugs on his sleeve to get his attention and he follows after him. Several other employees pass by blissfully unaware of the turmoil that was contained within their ship. He can't help but glance at any employee in red wondering if Reid's ok. He hopes they aren’t having a bad time. Blue keeps close to orange as they weave towards a smaller building offset from the main building, opposite from the expansive wall that stretches towards the horizon. Looking at the wall makes Brooks feel so small. 

“Come on, there should be a spot over here.” Citrus perches on a pipe tucked off to the side. Brooks silently leaned on the wall and crossed his arms. They watch as colorful people move between Drop off, Medical and HR. It was interesting to see all the different colors, orange is the most common suit but he saw blacks, purple, lots of red and blue with stars which looked like pajamas. Very few employees had pink or yellows which made it easy following said people as they moved between buildings. 

A question suddenly popped into his head, “How many employees have cycled through the crew before me?”

Citrus straightens up and blinks, he sucks at his teeth as he thinks, “There was Leaf, and that one guy, then Jet…,” he counts on his fingers absently, “...hmmm. um, at least five, probably more but they barely left a mark. Most get spooked off by Captain or Ratchet. Some…see what happens and run. Leaf lasted a few missions.”

A small pit opens up thinking of how many people they have been exposed to. No wonder Chip thinks he's better off alone. Ratchet was straight forward about it…she wasn't sparing details.

“When did you get put on?”

“Uh, I lost count after two months by now. Has it been half a year? I…I don’t remember.”

Over two months?? Half a year?! Brooks had to shake his head to refocus to even hear the rest as Citrus continued, “It was just Chip, Rook and Captain at first. Chip was very different when I first joined. I have no idea if there were people before me. They don't like talking about when it was just them. Which from what I can tell wasn’t a good time.”

The two are certainly consistent. Blue runs a hand through his hair, what the hell is going on behind the scenes. He really needs to ask Ratchet questions, he just hopes she’ll be truthful. To not get lost in his own head he picks a simple question, “How old are you? You look 17.” 

That gets a shocked look from the other man as his head whips towards him, “You got some nerve! I might be the youngest but I’m ain’t that young! I’m 26! 17? What a joke. How old are you , ol’ man? I can see those grays. Being all sweet on Chip, you’re not one of those weird old guys that tail after younger gays?”

Now it’s Brooks’ turn to be offended, “I’m 32! I’m not that old. Or creepy, I’m just concerned. I don’t want to have to handle a body…handling their belongings was hard enough…”

Citrus looks at him, studying his expression at his last comment. He nods to himself and looks back towards Medical. With a sigh at the mood souring he relents, “You’re not a creep. My creep-dar is pretty sharp. Jet was a creep, so glad when he left. I never wanted to push a motherfucker off a catwalk so bad.”

Brooks breathes a sigh of relief, though winces at the homicidal ideation. Don’t cross the little spitfire, he might manage to stab him with a spoon. Citrus chuckles at his face, telling him to relax. As they wait his mind wanders again seeing red suits. Orange stretches and says with an air of spiciness, “Chip’s real strong and smart. Shit at taking care of himself but…with this job I get it. He’s been a really good friend to me, keeping me out of trouble. So don’t be a jackass to him, Ol’ man.”

Hearing that directed at him with Citrus southern drawl had him want to wipe the smug smile off his face. Little punk. It does make him dread that he's not the first one to have been interested in Chip. Clearly he's gotten quite the brownie points with the name suggestion which has soothed some distrust. It does seem that Chip defaults to Citrus’ judgement of people often so earning the trust of the smallest crewmate will go a long way. There's just one question he can’t shake now that he knows that he’s so young, “What brought you to the crew if I may ask?”

Citrus puts his head in his hand and leans on his knee, “Masked are oddly interested in me. They like when I talk or sing so they aren't a big threat to me. Get kind of handsy and well… but eh, it's a nice stress relief compared to other monsters. Feels less overwhelming.” He scratches his nose and glances towards Medical. Brooks tilts his head at the nonchalance of having one of the scariest monsters being interested in him. His body language makes it seem that he's ok with the attention. There's suddenly way more questions but a tap on his shoulder breaks his train of thought. 

“He's out.” 

Blue's head snaps up towards the building and can see Chip at the doors. Even being so far away he can still tell he's in a bad state. They watch him meander towards the mess hall. Citrus hops down and motions Brooks to stay back. They follow after him and split up, Brooks getting food while Citrus handles grounding green.

Collecting a tray he scans the lines, eyeing the automatons moving on the other side of the serving line. Humanoid in shape yet eerily nonhuman in a way that's hard to describe. Their movements are slow and lurchy, not unlike the Nutcracker's. He hasn't really explored the facility beyond HR so seeing these robots in person are a little unnerving. He shakes his head and focuses instead on the food offered. Many choices, some definitely better picks so he has to make a choice.

Brooks picks a little bit of everything that looks good since he doesn't know what either of them like. Rations aren't really telling as to what is one's preferred food. They are more for maintaining an employee during missions. He does get a few different sweets to hopefully coax the feral kitty into talking a bit. The man truly hopes he has something Chip will actually like.

He finds them off towards a corner, Chip against the wall so no one can walk behind him. Citrus nods and motions for him to sit on the other side of Chip after ducking his head close to a miserable looking crewmate. Chip has the palm of his hand pressed against his forehead and not looking at him as he approaches. He hears orange give him the heads up that he's sitting next to them. Chip barely responds, eyelids hanging heavy against his gaze. 

“Hey, I got a little bit of everything since I don't know what you like.” Brooks admits with a sheepish smile, hoping to help him feel better. Chip looks exhausted and upset, stubbornly wiping his eyes but the puffy redness remains. The marks on his neck that are visible above his jacket collar are more faded than the day before which is soothing to see. Green sniffles and blinks slowly at the tray, looking unimpressed at the options. He perks up just a touch at the sweets, Brooks swears there's an interested spark in his eye.

Gotcha.

“You don't have to talk about it but how are you feeling?” He leans in so he can speak softly. Dull eyes look up at him through brown locks. He slowly signs that he feels disconnected and is very tired. Brooks gives a sympathetic smile, “We don't have to go back until you're ready to. How about we eat something, Citrus is worried you haven't been.”

Their concern perks him up a bit more, a little life coming back to him, “Eating feels…like a task.”

“Well let's do a task together, you were eyeing that cake so that's all yours.” Citrus says while giving him a small hip bump, grinning. Brooks notices Chip wincing a bit at the contact but it disappears as soon as he sees it. Orange perks up and reaches into his pocket before pulling out the stone he had found earlier to let him hold it and feel it. Blue scans the canteen to ensure the three of them don't have an audience. Thankfully he doesn't see anyone watching them before he feels Chip subconsciously leaning against him as he signs small questions to Citrus about the rock.

Citrus makes him eat a little for each question, much to the other's soft whining protests. When a loud growl comes from Chip's stomach it silences his complaining as he tucks into a sandwich. A sigh of relief settles the tension that blue didn't know he was holding. However he had so many more questions and only one other person who was willing to somewhat answer them. Citrus shares a glance with him and nods, he's got him right now. He gives Chip’s shoulder a squeeze, “I'll be back. You're in good hands.”

Chip's head swivels to look at him, a bit confused about him leaving. Blue gives him reassurance he's not disappearing on him. Getting up, Brooks' hand lingers on his shoulder before he finds an exit door. Looking back to make sure they're ok, Chip's staring at him with a ghost of worry. Is he afraid I won't return?

For a tall red clad employee Ratchet is hard to find. He circles the buildings twice before finally spotting her on the opposite side of Medical. She's off in a corner with Rook who is wildly telling her something, hands doing a lot of gesturing. He doesn't catch anything as he approaches but she doesn't seem surprised to see him. Rook gets a bit quiet, pulling at his pants leg worriedly and not meeting his eye. They still mumble things, picking at invisible loose threads obsessively. 

“I'm sorry to butt in, really but uh, I just had to walk Chip from the edge with Citrus and I have more questions.”

Rook's head snaps up with alarm but Ratchet just pats his knees, “Not your fault I'm sure.”

“No, not entirely sure what caused it. Although I'm concerned it's Captain's doing.”

The alarm morphs into unease, he breathes a few expletives while looking away. Ratchet sighs and gives purple a little head bump, “I'll find you in a bit but stay out of trouble.”

Rook nods as they stand, putting on his helmet and wandering off. She gets up and stretches before motioning him to follow, which is odd since this is a more secluded spot. 

“Captain knows to look there if he's trying to collect us. I have a few spots that are more private so we won't be interrupted.” 

Chapter Text

She leads Brooks along the back side of Medical where there's fewer eyes. Coming out of the alley they head towards the shipyard. Blue worriedly expects to see a familiar yellow suit but the pair is so far from where their ship is. Ratchet ducks between two shipping containers and Brooks hesitates but his desire to learn more has him squeeze through. 

Popping out on the other side he is greeted by stacks of the containers ranging in age and integrity. It's clearly storage of supplies for the buildings but he kept forgetting this exists with the routine of drop off and moving on to the next mission. 

"Brooks! Keep up!" His head snaps towards the call of his name. Jogging after her he keeps getting distracted by the different languages listed on the sides of the metal boxes. He's so distracted that he runs into her back, "Sorry."

"Up the ladders." Ratchet says with a small smirk as she takes hold of a rung. Brooks takes her cue and they climb up a few discarded storage containers positioned against the wall. The second level containers are crooked on the stack, angled to a person wide space. He squeezes into the space between two after Ratchet, entering into a hollowed out one hidden behind them.

Discarded bottles, trinkets and graffiti cover the inside from top to bottom. Two lamps, half hidden behind scrap so their light doesn't filter out and reveal the alcove of metal, give enough light to see everything within. Names long faded and painted over by newer shows a timeline of countless people who had wanted to be remembered even if just their name or number. Memoriams and curses towards the Company decorate the walls in many different languages. Whispered confessions spoken to those lost and hopes of the new that find this place scribbled on the door as if for luck. Small shrines, tucked away in corners, lovingly maintained by employees who have never met the people behind the dogtags cradled on the altars. The space feels holy, sacred to the dozens or not hundreds of lives that have huddled in this space for respite.

Brooks wasn't much of a religious man but this level of humanity moved him. It felt wrong to speak but Ratchet sits on a crate and motions him to sit. He takes a moment to look around, wondering if he recognizes any names. She allows him to settle before leaning forward and getting straight to the point, “You've gotten far enough that if I don't tell you this here and now you're a dead man walking.”

The life Brooks felt suddenly vanished like a flame snuffed out. He sat stock still, his attention fully on her now. Seeing her words get the appropriate reaction she leans her elbows on her knees, left leg bouncing in thought.

“You are the bottom of the ladder in the team, filling a space that has cycled through over a dozen other bodies. The Company doesn’t really care about us employees, only the assets. That makes Chip, Rook and Citrus important to them. Employees that monsters don't want to kill out right are rare so they are researching it. For what I don’t know and don’t care to know, a sentiment. you . should adopt.”

Brooks gives a face, fidgeting with his sleeves. The Company doesn’t care about their lives, that’s not new. He understood that pretty early on but this isn’t about the Company is it. This is about getting in Captain’s way. He won’t be convinced to turn his back on his crewmates, that's not who he is. Ratchet’s expression reveals little, quirking a brow with a small smirk, “I'm the mechanic and can handle Rook so I manage both sides of the ship. Citrus has been good at keeping a low profile and Chip’s kept him out of trouble from what I can tell. Captain of course manages Chip, making sure his contract obligations are fulfilled. He has other things that I’ve tried to understand but he refuses to elaborate, even though I’d take over as leader if he died… If you want some security I’d suggest taking Chip from him. Oh that would piss him off, serves the bastard right.”

Blue squints, “And by taking you mean what exactly?”

“You seem to have taken a shine to Chip, if you can make sure he does his job better than Captain it’s harder for you to be dismissed.”

Brooks stood with a snarl in his throat, “I’m not forcing him to do anything!”

Ratchet is unimpressed by his anger and motions him to sit, “It's a hazard of the job, just like death is a hazard for normal crews. Everyone has to do their contractual obligations. You can't change that, in fact trying to will probably get you killed outright. Captain has their approval so his actions are an extension of the Company’s policies. I'm also not happy about that but if they demand it of Rook I can’t stop it, despite him having more protections being a tech.”

There’s an uneasy feeling settling in Brooks’ stomach, how much is she withholding from him? Yet she’s being very forthcoming with information. She meets his eyes and huffs, “You have a question don’t you?”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you've already seen too much. You know too much to safely leave the crew. Our operations are tightly wrapped in red tape so employees don’t think to hide unusual encounters. Do you think the Company would risk someone that knows what's going on to just transfer to a normal crew? Too risk that information getting to the general teams? The only employees I've seen that have successfully transferred are those who bailed before we left for a mission.”

Warmth left his hands as her words sank in, “What about L-”

“She never saw what happened, Chip somehow managed to avoid an encounter with her. I haven't seen her again so I don't know. That's besides the point. The Company isn't going to let you walk or break your contract, you can only do that by dying.”

He didn't realize his mouth had gone dry, she's warning him about possibly causing problems. Asking questions and digging in the wrong places risks more than just his job. At this point he can’t be easily dismissed but if he fails to find his place in the team he's at risk of never being seen again. After letting it settle she finishes, “There's other ways to fulfill a contract. Worse ways, ways that make you wish for death. So I'm telling you this. For the love of all above, pick your battles wisely. I can't bail you out, I can barely bail out Rook.”

Brooks' gaze fell to his hands, her words feeling layered. It feels like she's still withholding information but it's what he has to work with. He didn't like that Chip is essentially monster bait, but it sounds like that isn't something he can't stop without causing issues. Is that the position she's in with Rook? Who has Citrus' back when he gets caught? 

Glancing at the walls of faded ghosts of employees. The path forward is laid bare and he's not necessarily happy with the hand dealt but he won't go quietly, “I'll take your advice to heart.”

“Wonderful, you can have five questions and I'll answer without…tact.” Her tone is tense like she owes him that much but would rather not. Brooks' mind spun, only five? A demanding question comes to mind in light of everything from earlier, “What does Captain do to Chip?”

Ratchet gives him a look as if to say ‘drop it’ but he just can't. No, he refuses too. She suggested he take him from Captain but what does that mean? The memory of him staring through him flashes in his mind. She sighs through her nose, “Do you really want to know?”

“I found him on the floor in the middle of a panic attack and harming himself. Yes I want to know, I don’t care if it’s ‘safer for me not to’. If you don't know exactly, I guess the broadest strokes. I just…don’t want to see that happen again.”

She huffs and presses her hands to her chin. “He's a right bastard to him. But he's careful and he gets results so the Company doesn't care what he does to him. I don't know the details, truly. He keeps him on a short leash and…I can't help you with this. I made a deal with him to get Rook out from under it. I can't interfere but if you want to really know you have to have Chip trust you enough to open up. You’re an empathic idiot so just being yourself will probably be enough to break some of his control over him. Or play into Captain's hand and fall into line, losing Chip’s trust entirely. Either way you’re playing with fire.”

Brooks' anger flares, “Why didn’t you report him?”

“Is that your second question?”

“Yes! Why?” He asks with a look of contempt. Ratchet grumbles and rubs her forehead, “You think I didn’t try? Rook fell real fast for me and I started seeing things. Things that would have been hidden if we didn’t start getting involved. All of my concerned messages were brushed off saying that Captain has the Company approval to use assets as deemed necessary. When proper channels failed I confronted him outright. I wanted to force him to give them up but he nearly killed me when I tried. So he offered a deal, Rook became my responsibility and I had to turn a blind eye to his…management of Chip.”

Brooks was stunned, he almost killed her? Her scars he had thought she received from a monster suddenly look too clean to be claws. So that’s the kind of danger he’s inviting on himself for being sympathetic towards the little green crewmate. I can’t turn a blind eye. I can’t pretend I didn’t see the lifelessness in his eyes. I missed it on Fitz…

“Citrus isn’t in any current danger because Chip’s protective of him. Plus the little punk is far more cunning than he lets you see. You better not let this slip to that yellow fuck, I’m not going to let this courtesy put Rook in danger you hear?”

“Yes ma’am.” It came out shakier than he’s like but her intense glare has him feeling small. With a satisfied nod she holds up two fingers, “That’s two down. What’s the next one?”

It takes him a minute to get the gears moving. In light of understanding the risks he has to ask, “What…hmm, have you been at risk of getting caught by monsters like they are?”

There's a look of ‘that’s certainly a question’ but she sighs and taps her pointer fingers to her lips. After a moment she breathes, “Do you want a long or short answer?”

That makes him hesitate, “I mean…I'd like to be prepared. You don’t have to be graphic, so both.”

She nods before finally answering, “Short answer yes. I've had a few run-ins with, like, a Nutcracker. A Bracken tried but, ehehe, I sent it packing. I don't know if Captain has, like he'd ever admit it. Past employees I don't know. So there is a risk but it's not guaranteed, however if you stick with Chip your likelihood of encounters like that goes up.”

Brooks chews on the information, it's vague but he can work with it. He is not immune to having a monster swing its dick his way, though he'd much rather not have to deal with that. Damnit I just have more questions. Fuck. Scratching his beard in thought he ponders his next question.

“What's between you and Rook?” 

He expected her to get a bit flushed but there's a grin that spreads across her face. She places a hand under her chin with an eyebrow wiggle, “N’aw he's cute isn't he? They're absolutely smitten with me. He's such a good boy, for the most part. We play around and he listens when he needs to. It took time to unlearn the bad habits but he does love being my good boy. But we're not exclusive, life's too short in this line of work. Why, you seem far more interested in small, pale and freckled.”

She chuckles and leans on her knee, watching him react. Brooks feels heat prickle up his neck at being called out. Shrugging to try and brush off the embarrassment he states plainly, “I want to understand how the dynamics work. And just noticed how infatuated with you they are.”

Her grin widens, “An observant one you are. Good, it'll keep you out of trouble if you're smart. Alright, that's four. Five better be a good one. Will say, didn't expect a question about my sex life.”

Her demeanor is relaxed so she's not offended by the question he had asked. Brooks thinks for a bit, skimming through several questions but none seem big enough to be the fifth. Something Citrus mentioned about those that came before floats to the forefront. Settling on a final question he wet his lips, “What happened to the employees that made them leave?”

“That is a good question,” she sits forward a bit, squeezing her knees in thought, “Well Leaf got shot by a Nutcracker and refused to continue. Poor thing’s just an intern she wasn't ready for Rend. Teece threatened Rook and I absolutely laid their ass out. Threw them off once we got back to Gordion.”

She still looks agitated at the memory, heel bouncing angrily while she glares at his feet for a moment. After a minute she takes a slow breath and glances back up. Brooks' guesses she could probably bench press him like he's nothing with what he's seen of her strength. Getting a beat down from her must have been humbling to say the least. Honestly sound like they fucked around and found it. How did she lose to Captain ? Ratchet laces her fingers together and rests her chin on top of them, “Those were the two stuck around the longest while I was a part of the group, others weren't so memorable. Citrus told me about Jet who got his arm broken by a Bracken before Chip intervened. He obviously couldn't continue working but I don't know if he saw anything. There are a few others but the stories are similar. I don't think any employees have died while on mission, doesn't mean there isn't danger. It's just different.”

Brooks nods absently, different is a way to put it. Death isn't as big of a threat because of the makeup of the crew. Not off the table but less likely, injury is the biggest problem. A thought crossed his mind, I'm glad Reid didn't get assigned here. They wouldn't have been able to handle it, this is out of their depth. Hell it's out of his depth but he's already committed. Blue feels like he has a better idea of what things will be like and sits up taller, “I guess that's my five.”

“Good, and last thing,” She stands and takes out a thick marker, “Leave your mark here for yourself and those that were.” 

She drops it in his hand and walks out, leaving him to speak with the past. Rolling the marker in his hand blue stands and searches the container for a place to make his mark. He doesn't find any of his old crew's names so kneeling down near a faded spot he writes.

In Memory of Ward, Mendez, and Fitzgerald.

They were here. They were my friends.

Brooks, Reid.

Glancing at the patch on his shoulder Brooks draws a small boat next to Fitz’s name. Searching through his bag he finds the copies of their tags he kept. It feels right to let them rest with those that came before. Placing the three tags on the closest altar he feels overwhelming sadness to lay them down.

“I won't fail again.” 

Getting to his feet he scans the container one last time before tucking the marker away and heading out quietly. Ratchet is long gone by the time he melds back into the ebb and flow of employees. Making his way back towards the canteen he pauses, Ratchet's words weighing on him finally. He has to be careful moving forward, he's going to be scrutinized by Captain. Makes sense he runs such a tight ship, he won't allow an outsider to mess with his control.

Exhaling slowly he pushes open the door and scans towards the back. They aren't there which has him looking around a bit worriedly, did they head back? He hears his name called out from behind, turning on his heel. Citrus waves and sits back down on some stacked crates. Brooks hadn't noticed he moved until he's standing in front of the two. Chip glances up, looking more present but his guard is back up. His eyes are so tired, does he not sleep well? 

“Hey, sorry. I wanted to ask Ratchet a few things before I forgot. How are you doing? Better?”

“Better.” His hands are steady, seeming to be more himself again. Brooks sits next to him, smiling and offering a hand. Green looks at his hand with a small head tilt before touching his palm. He wasn't ready for him to hook his pinkie around his own with a cheeky grin. “Told you I'd be back.”

He watches Chip's ears get red as he looks a bit flustered at the small display. After a minute he retracts his hand, “I'm sure none of us want to go back but I can feel that our time might be winding down soon.”

“Maybe, the ship’s water needs topped off and food restocked. It can take a bit for those to be finished. I haven't checked the Board yet either.”

Chip signs that he can handle going there, he does like the sound of the split flaps. Brooks agrees as well, getting up when Citrus hops off the boxes they were sitting on and leads the way. As they walk he leans forward to whisper to green, “If it gets to be too much we can find a quieter spot.”

Chip gets vividly red, shaking his head quickly to lose the blush but doesn't have a negative reaction to him invading his space. Turning his head back at him he glances away for a second in thought before signing ‘ok’. His lack of hostility is a win in Brooks’ book after nearly being bitten. 

The doors to HR open to the cacophony of indiscernible voices and the steady clacking from the massive board. Brooks sees his old teammates numbers towards the top rows of the deadlands, they'll be gone by the next time he returns. His heart ached seeing them up there, truly cementing that this isn't a bad dream. He's thankful to Ratchet showing him that hidden space, it makes seeing their numbers hurt less. They won't be forgotten. Chip follows his eyeline but since he doesn't know the numbers he only sees Brooks' sadness so he tugs on his sleeve for his attention, “ Are there familiar numbers?”

Brooks gives a choked exhale, blinking away tears as he nods, “Yeah. Kind of hurts seeing them reduced to numbers.”

Green chews on words before opening his mouth to say something. A shock cry cuts him off, head snapping towards the voice.

“Brooks?...Brooks!”

He perks up and swings towards the voice, “Reid?”

Chapter Text

The Spotify Playlist of all the songs used in the chapters! Will be updated every new chapter

I went back and redid Chip's ref and I love it. I want to pet his face but he'd loathe it.

I maaaay have gone overboard on her suit design but I love it too much a change it. Rook really said 'I want a woman who can just kill me' and respect. 

The only time I'll have their official heights as it'll be mostly vibes. But Ratchet and Brooks are the tallest, in that order, followed by Rook, Chip and Citrus. I don't want to draw Captain but he is close to Brooks in height.

Chapter Text

He can’t believe it! They’re here? Reid hopped down from their perch on a bench with a delighted sound, calling his name again. Beaming they push through a passing group, excusing themself before standing in front of him. Brooks' heart swells seeing them, hugging them tightly with a choked laugh. They’re still alive! Letting them go he looks between them and the other two, orange is the only one looking curiously at the newcomer. Chip keeps his emotions close to the chest, the usual neutral expression taking over with a stranger so close. Citrus remains the shortest of the group but not by much compared to Reid but jokes that Brooks likes his crewmates short. When Reid agrees with a smirk Blue clears his throat, “Ah. Reid, this is Chip and Citrus. Chip. Citrus, this is Reid, the other survivor of my old crew.”

“Hi! Hope he’s not giving you too much trouble.”

Citrus gives a little wave, far more receptive to them while the other withdraws a bit. Chip rubs his arm and glances away, clearly disengaging from the conversation. It goes unnoticed by Brooks who's just excited to see his friend alive after the mission he just experienced. Unable to resist he hugs them again which they return with an exacerbated sigh, “Ugh! Put me down, people are going to think we’re together.” 

Placing them down with an apology he starts to ask Reid how their new crew is like. They're doing well in their new crew; the captain is nice and there's only two other employees. They admit to missing him and the others, apparently the tech of the crew is not as good as he was. He laughs and rubs his neck awkwardly, he wasn’t that good… Blue can’t help but admit to missing them as well, it’s hard to have to keep going without knowing someone. Without thinking he let it offhandedly slip he wished they could have been paired on the same crew. Lost in some regrets he misses Citrus making a concerned face.

A hand reaches out to touch Brooks’ jacket but hesitates and withdraws before it’s noticed by anyone.

Shaking his head Brooks jokes that he wouldn’t have been much help to the team if he was paired with them after that. He’d been so protective and it would have caused problems. They agree, revealing that it took until day three for them to feel safe enough to go back into the facility. With the heaviness subsiding he is slowly consumed by speaking with Reid, swapping mission stories as the world around him feels a little less overwhelming. He's careful to avoid saying anything about the unusual encounters. 

Citrus joins in easily after relaxing a bit, well practiced with telling his own tales. Reid is so pleased to know he's settling in, “Oh, since you mentioned missing my amazing face, there is technically an opening on my crew. Fox got caught by a dog but managed to get free. He’s really injured so the captain doesn’t think he’ll be cleared to return.. It would be great to be on the same crew again, despite the circumstances.”

Do you think the Company would risk someone that knows what's going on to just transfer to a normal crew?

Citrus watches Brooks' face carefully, glancing back suddenly and looking around confused. Brooks had to admit talking to Ratchet earlier was a good call, the offer would have been far more tempting. But he can't go with them, as much as his heart longs to rejoin his friend. Not just because of the reality if he tried but because he can’t abandon Chip after everything he’s learned, “Reid I can't. It’s one thing to wish choices were different but I am finding my footing here–""Chip's gone.”

What? He spins around and sure enough the little green crewmate is nowhere to be found. How did he…? Where? Worry and confusion take hold, why did he leave? Citrus looks at him with deep concern, panic starting to etch across his face as he looks around, “He's still in a bad way, where'd he go?” 

“Oh, I didn't even notice he left. He disappeared behind you. Kind of quiet, one of those easy to miss types.” Brooks didn't like that they weren't wrong with how withdrawn he is currently. He had gotten so swept up that with catching up the whole building disappeared in his mind. He doesn't want Chip to be alone in such a fragile mental state, “Reid I'm sorry but I have to find him.”

They look disappointed but tease, “Finally got your eyes on someone? Heh.”

Brooks didn't even stop to be embarrassed by their words. He walks further into the wide expanse of the building, scanning for Chip. How could he have gotten so far? Were they talking that long? He spies a hunched green form on the other side, walking through the door to the outside. He points it out to Citrus and jogs off after him, asking Citrus to not follow just yet.

Slipping through the dense crowd he gets to the other side fairly quickly. Looking at the doors he picks the one he believes Chip went through. Bursting through the door he is greeted to a back alley corridor and near ear ringing silence. Glancing to the right the corridor comes to a dead end. A tiny shuddering breath catches his attention and he swings his head left. There's a few scattered boxes and trash bags, he then notices a boot.

Perking up he makes his way over and finds Chip huddled against a wooden crate, gripping his jacket so tightly his knuckles are white. His breathing is shallow and painful but he kicks away from Brooks with a strained sound. The struggling man tries to get to his feet but his body just isn’t listening, sliding back down the wall. He stares up at Brooks, eliciting the image of a puffed out cat in the other’s mind. Poor thing…

On his own for this one he sits down next to Chip and offers his hand. Wary eyes stare at his palm before holding on tightly. Brooks winces in pain but can feel just how hard he's trembling. Wanting to help and with no Citrus to stop his impulsive thoughts, he reaches out with his free hand. Too focused on his internal desires he ignores the slight lip twitch from the other. Gently placing his palm against Chip’s mouth, fully expecting to be bitten but the other needs to stop hyperventilating. Unreadable green eyes stare at him as he grabs his wrist, his other hand still latched onto Brooks’. With each locked in place by the other a tense few heartbeats pass between them. Blue feels lips draw back against his palm and realizes he has to explain himself.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Although, I’m sorry for not asking. Just. Try to breathe slowly. I should have tried this earlier but Citrus told me not to touch. I was so worried finding you like that this trick slipped my mind.” He keeps his voice low, making no further move as Chip takes long breaths through his nose. Green furrows his brow but closes his mouth. After a moment he shoves Brooks’ hand away, sweat dripping off his chin as he pants softly. Judging from how he grips his jacket he’s not grounded but is no longer breathing heavily. Continuing to push his comfort could set him off again but the words come out before his brain can cage them, “You look like you're hurting bad, do you want a hug?” 

A confused head tilt and little sounds are what the other can give, words still lost to him. Brooks knows the other is not touchy but he’s got to try, right? He craved comfort after losing his friends; he can only guess his little crewmate isn’t so different. The feral cat leans away as if he threatened him, not trusting him yet. Patting his lap and opening his arms has the other jolt, lip twitching with the sound of low one note growl.

“Sssh, hey. I'll hold your pieces so you don't fall apart.” His voice is gentle, once again offering his lap and waiting for the prickled cat to make a choice. Owlish eyes stare almost unblinkingly at him, shifting towards his open arms for only a second before flinching away. What Brooks wouldn’t give to hear his thoughts right now. 

Just when he starts to feel foolish Chip presses the heel of his hand against his temple and pulls himself up. Blue catches him wince while sitting properly before crawling into his lap and clinging to him. He holds onto the larger man as if he'd disappear if he held on any less, threads of his jacket snapping from the strain. Arms wrap around the shaking body and Brooks rests his chin on top of the other’s head. There's a brief pause before the shaky breathing breaks into a low whine, morphing into quiet crying. I think Ratchet is…is right, I am an empathic idiot.

Keeping the pieces of the little crewmate together Brooks just rubs his back, shielding him from any eyes that glance down the alley. Chip slowly calms down as tears run out, eyes dull and unfocused. Brooks shifts to be more comfortable, moving a hand to feel Chip’s pulse. It's rhythm slowing down and leveling out. Fingertips lightly brush against a bandage under the pale chin and the man can't stop a spike of anger taking hold as the image of the blood on ship flashes in his mind. Something did happen . Green doesn't protest much at being touched so intimately, his eyes dragging up to meet the other's. There's that look of shame. Guilt maybe? Brooks smiles softly, “Back on the ground?”

Chip nods slowly, not entirely back but enough. His head falls against his chest, too exhausted to put up a fuss being in his lap. Blue can guess that if he wasn't so emotionally drained he'd never have allowed himself to be held. This is a temporary exception even though a small selfish part of him desperately hopes Chip stays this open to his touch.

“You had me worried, running off like that. Gave us a good scare. Was the noise too much?” He knows he can't bombard him with questions so starts with yes or no’s. He receives a single head shake.

“Ok, was it me talking with Reid?”

Nod.

“Did you think I'd forget about you and leave?”

There's a pause as Chip’s gaze falls away, looking frustrated yet nervous. Biting on his lip he eventually nods as he hides his face against his jacket. Seems like he's growing a bit attached to his attention. Why does that make him feel giddy?

“Chip, I'm not going anywhere. I told you that. Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?”

A firm head shake follows him pushing against his shoulders, trying to get free. His squirming has Brooks ease his hold but doesn't let him fall to the ground, “Whoa, whoa it's ok you're safe. No one will hurt you. I got you.”

Chip looks at him, arms going a bit slack just before tears well up in his eyes. There's a moment of confusion as he blinks to clear his eyes but the tears break and fall. He touches his face numbly, as if not believing that he broke down like that. Unsteady hands sign, “ You can't promise that.”

Brooks frowns, he is in such a bad state. He wished he felt safe enough to talk, “Is it something you can't tell me because something will happen?”

It was a shot in the dark but the way Ratchet spoke made him suspect Captain's true behavior. Chip's eyes widen as he looks around and tries to get up. Without thinking Brooks holds him to his chest, pressing his head to his heart so Chip has something to focus on besides the silence. Struggling slowly ceases as blue feels a hand grip the fabric of his jacket. Tense shoulders drop as the spark of energy dies, Chip leaning into him with a defeated sigh. Taking a slow deep breath the taller man pets his hair, “I'm not so easy to chase off. It'll be alright, one day at a time.”

They stay together for a little while longer. Brooks wonders what to do, he can't change what is happening. He can be there for him but it's clear Chip’s very lonely yet so closed off it'll take time. Whatever he's dealing with is breaking him and it's not just monsters.

“You must….think…I'm pathetic… ” A tiny yet angry whisper comes from Chip. Brooks leans back and looks at him with disbelief, “Not at all, what makes you believe that?”

Green just hides his face against his chest, mumbling inaudibly. Brooks catches his chin gently, seeing a lip twitch but no resistance as he tilts his head up to look him in the eye, “You're not pathetic, you're going through a lot and it's ok to let others close so we can put you back together.”

Chip shakes his head, murmuring no repeatedly. Blue is at a loss for words. He wishes Citrus would come and find them, he might help with breaking him out of this spiral. Deciding to drop it for now Brooks thinks of something else to distract his thoughts.

“You want cake? Something sweet always makes me feel better after a lot of emotions.” Brooks murmurs, trying to hide a smile as the idea of a treat has green glancing up at him hopefully, “Yeah let's get cake. First, should collect Citrus. Can you stand?”

As soon as he asked he knew the answer just by feeling the subtle shaking in his body. So he doesn't wait for a verbal reply, shifting his hold and getting up. Chip gets fairly pink being lifted up so easily. He is very light for someone who should be more toned from the job. Thankfully with even one hand holding around his ribs Brooks can tell he’s not overtly starved. That's a concern for later. Cake and Citrus now. 

Walking back towards the door he sees Citrus popping out from a crowd and coming to the door. He must have gotten worried waiting so long. He comes through, “Sorry I couldn't wait any- Oh! Are you ok with this?”

He gestures between the two while talking to Chip. Green eyes glance away and he signs that it's hard to stand. Orange smiles, “Well as long as you're not being held hostage. Reid talks a lot so sorry for not coming sooner, I thought I yapped. They're pretty nice, kind of glad you were assigned to us. I don't know if they would have been able to handle Offense. What's the plan?”

“Well I promised cake but wanted to collect you first.” 

Citrus nods and frowns, checking the time, “Hmm, maybe it’s time. I’ll get the cake, head on back.”

Chip shifts at the mention of returning to the ship but knowing he’s not going to be going back alone soothed his apprehension. Although a whisper poisonously mentions that he'll be alone with Brooks. Out of sight. The thoughts are broken as Brooks clears his throat, “Do you want to walk back or you ok with being carried?”

Selfishly he doesn't want to walk but the idea of being seen like that by Captain…He asks to be put down. Brooks does so immediately, holding under his arm in case his legs give out. Muscles ache and complain but he remains upright so the larger man lets go. Citrus nods and says he'll see them on the ship before heading back inside. He's alone with Brooks yet doesn't feel trapped. An arm is offered to him, “You still look a little unsteady so if it helps. If not I'll let you be.”

Green swallows but shakes his head, he should be able to move. Taking a few steps to work the soreness out he jumps feeling Brooks walking behind him. He requests him to walk in front so he doesn’t feel as followed. Ugh, he loathes how he feels after such volatile emotions. 

The walk back is thankfully less busy as a lot of ships have left for their next missions. Chip doesn't feel nearly as boxed in, especially walking in the wake the other leaves behind in the crowd. The ship looks like it always does but inside his heart is pounding. Brooks disappears around the corner and when he doesn't hear him greeting anyone Chip swallows the nausea and follows. It's just Brooks. I hope…

No one else is in the front of the ship but something new catches his eye. There's a crate next to the collection container that doesn't look like a box of supplies. What new hell is being added to the ship? Rubbing his arm he can't meet Brooks’ steady gaze, “S… Sorry for making you have to deal with me… ”

There's an offended scoff before he is offered a hand. Eyes flick up for a second to his face before he taps the back of his fingers to his. Brooks steps forward and rubs a shoulder, “Helping you isn't a burden. This is who I am, I'm sorry if I come off as too much. I don't want to overstep.”

His words have tense muscles relax, but the feeling like he made things awkward settles against his chest. Exhaustion tugs on his mind and he finds himself moving towards the back out of habit. As his shadow stretches across the floor he is struck with a body numbing chill.

Something is in his bunk.

He can hear it whimpering.

Fear tightens his throat as he tepidly moves closer. The smell of blood makes his head spin and want to run, sprint away and disappear. Shaking fingers tug away the blanket and he's face to face with a terrified self. The mirror of himself stares at him like he's the ghost, whimpering through tears, “I’ve been good! I listened, I swear! What more will you take from me?”

His eyes shift down to see so. much. blood . The mirror is gutted, flesh ripped open to expose the viscera and guts. It soaks the bed, leaving nothing unsoiled. A bloody hand reaches towards him, dripping with discarded life, “I've done everything right, why won't it stop?”

“–p?”

A hand touches his shoulder, words he can't understand but they sound concerned.

“Ch–..”

You shouldn't run mutt.

“Chip!” Brooks’ voice finally snaps him to attention, he hasn't moved from the hallway. His stomach burns. Fuck…my head… Glancing back towards the other he just sighs and moves out of the hall. He's so tired but sleep doesn't want him and what should be his safe space isn't. The thought of being in his bunk has his skin crawling. Brooks steps to the side, “Do you want to sit with me?”

Brooks offers his bunk, sitting and patting the space next to him. There's a moment where Chip glances at his bunk before slowly walking closer. Blue can't help but see a cautious kitten moving out from a hiding place, ready to bolt if he moves. When the bunk sinks with his weight he feels a flutter of excitement that he's still open to being so close. However he doesn't move to touch him, just letting Chip settle. The larger man notices the other lifting his head and watching him in his peripheral. It doesn’t take long to catch discomfort etching deep into Chip’s face. At that moment Brooks realizes they’re alone and he’s still very raw right now. Still untrusting, not surprised.  

Wanting to ease the tension he finds words falling from his lips, “I was talking with Citrus waiting for you earlier and I’m proud to say I passed his creep-dar test. Do you think I should add it to my file? Brooks #4672, Citrus certified non-creep. Or you think he’d find me a patch to wear?”

He watches Chip tilt his head in curious confusion, a thin smile tugging at his lips. Seeing that emboldens him more, “I’m thinking like one of those stickers on fruit, ‘100% Creep Free’ you know like pulp or no pulp?”

The silliness has Chip break and laugh, covering his mouth but he can’t stop. Brooks props an elbow on his knee and leans against the back of his hand. His laugh is so sweet and light for someone looking so beaten down, it pulls a warm smile from him. His mouth moves faster than his brain, “You have a cute laugh.”

Eyes snap open before looking at him, wide and hard to read. He feels like he said something wrong, “I’m sorry, I…I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. That just came out, but it’s not a lie. It’s adorable, I want to give you more reasons to laugh. I hope to hear it more.”

Chip gets flustered and looks away with embarrassment. Brooks wants to keep going, to say more sweet things til that fair skin is flushed red and he’s shivering with abashment. He pinches himself to break that line of thought before he foolishly tries that, not the time . Leaning in to whisper a small confession, he perks up at the sound of footsteps. The chance dies as Chip jolts and pushes away from him.

“You two best not be making out!”

It’s Citrus. Thank the stars it's him. Chip flops back on the bunk to hide his face with a conflicted groan. The short man pops out of the hall with a box, grinning at embarrassing the other. Brooks chuckles leaning over green, “I didn’t know we were doing that, I’d have cleaned up if you told me.”

There’s a louder groan but Brooks can see his ears are red. Cute. Orange gives him the fork before poking Chip with the box, “Hey I had to sneak this out you can at least give it a look.”

Green props himself up, making a face before it's clear he remembers what was promised earlier. The interested sparkle returns and he sits up with a little sound. The smaller man chuckles at his eagerness and opens the box. It's a strawberry shortcake, same as the one Brooks had gotten but this piece has candied fruit on top. 

Chip's subdued excitement has Brooks smiling and offering a fork, “Go ahead and eat, just save me a bite.”

“But..uh…” Chip fumbles for words, taking the fork quickly. Before blue moves he is offering a candied strawberry with remnants of whipped cream hanging on to the red fruit. With a little smirk Brooks smoothly holds onto his hand to steady the fork and bites into the morsel. Stealing the whole fruit he grins at the mildly offended look his actions left on Chip's face, eating it cheekily, “Want some?”

“N-no it's all yours.”

He can't help but chuckle and licks his fingers, “Lovely, it's certainly delicious. Enjoy the cake, I'm going to make sure we don't need to order anything extra. Citrus, do you have any suggestions?”

“Oh! Yeah, I'll show you the secret store front. Rook showed me!” Orange half drags him off to allow Chip to unwind a little. 

Left alone green sighs and hangs his head. A tiny laugh swells in his chest as he rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. He didn't deserve the gentleness those two have given him but he'd be lying if he didn't appreciate them caring. Looking at the red stained cake he feels heavy hands wrap around his throat, weighing him down. Threatening to drag him into the abyss.

The universe works in mysterious ways…But…will it ever work for me?

Trying to shake away his thoughts Chip takes a bite, they'd be sad if he didn't eat after going through the effort.

The cake tastes good.

He’d rather share it.

Chapter Text

Eyes snap open in alarm, glancing around quickly. He isn't in Brooks' bunk but his own. Dread settles in his guts, but a clean scent comes from the sheets due to him moving. Shifting a bit to prop himself up Chip examines the bedding briefly, everything is clean. When…? How long was I asleep? Rubbing his face with a sigh he finally notices hands dangling from above his bunk. Citrus is leaning out and talking to someone he can't see. 

He hears talking drifting in from the front but can't focus enough to figure out who. Rolling onto his stomach Chip curls up, pressing his face into the pillow and covering his head with his hands. He doesn't like waking up like this, feeling completely separated from the others. As if he's in a glass cage no one else can see. This degree of isolation has draped heavily over his heart. So close but unreachable, fuck Captain for reminding him. He wants to be angry but nothing breaks through, leaving him floating in emptiness. Footsteps barely catch his attention as he groans into the pillow.

“You're awake!”

Being addressed has him lift his head enough to peer towards the person talking. It's Brooks. The man kneels down to be eye level with him with a quiet smile. Chip finds himself relaxing and lifting his head, crossing his wrists and resting his cheek on his arm. Brooks doesn't see the cage but he's certainly reaching between the bars. He doesn't know what to do about it.

“You passed out not long after eating. Sorry for moving you. How are you feeling?”

Right. His genuine concern and grin makes Chip want to lower his guard but he just can't. He gives a low grumbling growl before pushing himself up to sit. Tight soreness he wasn't prepared for has him hissing and rubbing his hip. The other perks up and tilts his head back, “Hey Citrus you have some painkillers?”

There's movement above before two pills are placed into his outstretched palm. Blonde hair flops over followed by the curious gaze, “You're like awake awake. Hehe, bed head.”

Chip runs a hand through his hair, huffing and watching Brooks warily. He trusts what Citrus gives him so he takes the medicine without suspicion. The larger man picks up a water bottle and offers it after cracking open the seal. Green is now very aware of how thirsty he is as he gulps down mouthfuls. He remembers to take the medication before finishing it.

“How are you feeling? Other than stiff?”

“ Tired but…ok.”

Blue nods and goes to touch something above his head, hand hesitating. Unease prickles up his neck but he hides his discomfort with a huff but invites his touch by leaning forward. The touch is kind as fingers fix his mussed hair, giving his scalp a little scratch before pulling away, “There not so crazy now.”

Chip tries to look unbothered but he can feel heat under his jacket collar. He is such a touchy person and he can't understand why he's so willing to tolerate it. Why do I….?

“You should walk around a bit so you're not sore when we land. Captain won't tell us where we're going, he kicked Rook off the terminal when everyone came back.”

I…I don't like that. Chip has a theory but doesn’t want to dwell on it, his head is already starting to hurt. Citrus pokes his head back down and tsks, “Why'd you have to fix his hair? I like when he looks like he lost a fight with the blankets.”

The loneliness he woke up with fades a little bit as he rolls his eyes, “ Maybe I'll have you cut it short so it won't look like that for a while.”

Orange scoffs and points at him with intent, “Now listen here you cheeky S.o.B. I will never give you a military cut. I'd quicker do that to Rook than you.”

“I fuck up my own hair just fine by myself thank you!” Rook snaps from the top most bunk. Brooks wasn't lying about him being kicked off the terminal. Chip quirks a brow and pulls on a long lock, Yeah I wouldn't want it that short anyway.  

“ Could you cut it?” The question has Citrus' eyes sparkle and he grins, “Yes! Maintenance or new? Oh! Let me get my tools!” 

He hops down and heads to the uniform locker, rummaging while humming excitedly. Brooks chuckles, “Didn't think you'd stay still long enough for something like that.”

“ Citrus enjoys doing it so…” His hands pause, he blinks with confusion as his mind refuses to communicate. Shaking his hands to reset his thoughts he continues, “ I bare with it. Seeing his happiness is worth the discomfort.”

Brooks nods thoughtfully, murmuring so the others don't hear, “You care a lot for him, huh?”

Chip glares at him, suspicion carving deeply into his heart. The seated man’s startled reaction at his hostility says it was him thinking out loud. Chip glances towards the hallway, nervousness dousing the rage. When he doesn't see Captain it returns as he growls at Brooks with his teeth bared. He will not have two people hold his feelings hostage, snarling just low enough for only the other to hear, “Some thoughts should remain thoughts.”

He gets up abruptly and brushes past the shortest crewmate while heading to the bathroom, “I'm taking a shower.”

Citrus looks at the door as it slams shut and slowly turns on his heel towards Brooks, “What in the nine moons was that?”

Brooks was stunned and lost for words at the anger displayed. He really pressed on a sore topic, damnit my filter is better than this! The flash of fear as he looked towards the front of the ship replayed in his mind. He stuck his nose in a place it didn't belong and was rightfully swiped at. Damnit and after feeling like he was making progress.

Chip is quick, coming out with wet hair. Orange has him sit down, questioning what happened before. Whatever answer he got has him giving Brooks a sympathetic look. The tension remains as Citrus cuts Chip’s hair, his face impossible for Brooks to read. He fucked up, he got ahead of himself and immediately put his foot in his mouth. The two talk to each other, Chip not signing so his words aren't overheard. Sighing and kicking himself he decides to lay down and hope the anger will pass by the time they reach the next moon. 

_-_-_

“Wake up! Come on.”

Chip jumps and presses against the wall in alarm hearing Rook bark at anyone still asleep. Grumbling under his breath and sinking back into his pillow he hisses when purple prods at him. A swipe of his hand makes them back off as he goes to annoy orange awake. There's an air of nervousness from him, muttering under his breath.

“Come on, we have a specific mission again. Wake up, Captain is in a mood.”

That has Chip bolt up with wide eyes, of course he's in some mood. Never enough to torture him, has to give it to everyone else. He moves quickly, getting his boots on and scooping up his helmet. Soreness makes him misstep as he stands, swallowing a groan. Agitation creeps up at the lingering reminder of yesterday, he would not give Captain the satisfaction of seeing him upset. Stretching to shake the last of the pain away he glances back to get a read on what’s going on from Rook’s body language. He’s shifting from foot to foot, so not good.

Citrus yawns and grumbles at Rook, waving a sleepy hand at him while Chip moves to the front without them. His ears are buzzing as he sees Ratchet first and then Captain who grins at him but says nothing. Anxiety claws at his stomach with the desire to be anywhere but here, yet his face doesn't reveal his feelings. Ratchet doesn't acknowledge him and is busy checking gear as the tall man approaches. He feels even more caged than before, when did the ship get so small?

“You better do your job this mission. The Company is looking for more diverse biomaterials. So you either collect it yourself or I'll just have to assist,” He leans in, Chip feeling lightheaded with his space being invaded but manages to just barely contain the urge to bare his teeth. The man looks into his eyes, seemingly disappointed that he isn't cowering. With a low hum of discontentment words laced with venom tighten around his throat, “but I'll believe you're capable of not disappointing me, right ?”

Swallowing thickly he gives the tiniest nod, “Yes sir.”

“Good.” He pushes a pack into his hands, “Then I'll leave this with you.”

When he moves away Chip can't bear to look inside, choosing to clip it to his belt and hold his helmet close. Leaning against the wall with thoughts festering on the feelings from the day before he misses the others come in. He's much too lost, eyes unfocused at the floor with a dead expression. Where are we?

Citrus manages to get his attention with a bottle of water and a ration, asking him to eat. After the trouble he gave him yesterday Chip reluctantly eats even though he doesn’t feel hungry. It doesn't taste like much but that relieved smile makes him force it down, thankful for the water at least. 

Brooks wanders over just as he finishes eating. Stress lets Chip’s frustration win as he refuses to acknowledge the other. Eyes search to find anything more interesting than him. The larger man rubs his neck, sighing, “I'm sorry about earlier. That wasn't my place to ask about that, I wasn't trying to pry.”

Green’s attempted search fails as he lifts his head to look at the other. He looked a bit ashamed, glancing at him with a remorseful expression. Chip blinks and stays still, deciding how to respond. His immediate thought is to take his fear and anger out on him yet the other has only been kind to him. Pushy and overly touchy but…harmless and helpful. Sucking in a sharp breath, green looks away, “Just…please don't ask stuff like that…”

“Of course!” Brooks' hand lowers and Chip pointedly turns his head away. Appearing more interested in the floor he just listens. After there's a shuffle of feet, blue pipes up, “Do we know what's going on?”

“No,” Citrus mutters while glancing towards Ratchet and Captain, “but Rook seemed off.”

Nodding blue goes and collects their tanks, checking them as he assists with the gear up process. Green places his helmet on his head, wanting to feel a little safe and unseen. Captain has Rook handle the landing, giving him a single glance before clearing his throat.

“The Company has requested a monster oriented mission once more. Since most interior beasts can't be removed from the facilities the equipment may fail once outside but that is acceptable. We have other ways that have proven successful so these artificial methods are experimental,” Chip and Rook shift uncomfortably but don't retort, “There is a request for bodies of entities that don't decay outside. So, if acquired, will be stored in the newest containment unit.”

He motions towards a now completed metal box, Ratchet looking rather displeased with it. It must be Company built if she is so disdainful of it. But where are they?

“This mission is on Vow–”

Vow .

Vow!?

A pit opens in Chip's stomach, of course it's Vow. No longer listening he bites his lip, he doesn't trust being alone with Captain. He'll do something, Gordion was just the beginning. Again. He'll force an encounter after hurting him so he can’t get away. If he's paired with Citrus that puts him at risk of the same fate. Or worse…Captain making good on his threat. What to do?  

A thought comes to mind, if he runs as soon as it's safe he could put enough distance between them. It'll anger Captain and he'll chase after him, especially after Rook pulling the same stunt. But he can't leave until after the debrief since he has the details of the mission. That'll allow Chip to get away from the main entrance and deeper into the facility. If he's follows after him, he probably won't take on a partner. It's a gamble but if it gives him a chance to outsmart him and keep Citrus out of his grasp...It's worth it. I don't care if something gets me…it's just… him .

Glancing towards Ratchet he chews on his tongue, she will want to work alone. Brooks will probably take Citrus as his partner since Rook will be told to stay. He mulls it over, watching the descent on the terminal. He can do it, he knows Vow’s terrain well enough now. Brooks being helpful means he has his walkie and light, he won’t have to get close to the yellow man again. I have to, if I don’t…  

He is not being paid attention to, Captain commanding it easily. Slowly he inches towards the door, moving smoothly behind Brooks and the wall. He doesn't know if he sees him, too focused on being able to escape once the pressure door opens. Counting the meters he feels the ship land with a shift of gravity. Eyes flick back for just a moment, Captain seemingly to finally take notice he has moved just as the doors open. 

His name is shouted but he is already gone. Hands grip the railings as he jumps down the stairs, taking off into the woods. The sounds of the forest are blocked by his breathing. Clearing bushes and half sliding down an embankment he follows what looks like a path carved from weather. Dirt crunches underfoot with each step until he has to hit the brakes. Sliding to a halt at the drop-off he glances to the left and sees a bridge stretching towards the facility.

Panting softly and sparing no glance back Chip runs across the unstable structure. Each step he can feel it shift underfoot. He sends a metal sheet falling as he kicks off onto solid ground but it doesn't slow him down. He has to keep moving.

Throwing open the door he spares a look back, eyes scanning the treeline. No sign of anyone yet so inside he goes and takes a moment to breathe. The air is stale and still, light is broken with an industrial fan above. A factory, well he's more familiar with their construction. Seeing three ways to proceed forward he silently debates which one. Jolting as his walkie crackles to life, a chill runs up his spine at the sound of an angered scoff.

“If you're going to misbehave this much I better not catch you.”

With him speaking like that Chip’s gamble paid off for now. Choosing not to respond as adrenaline tingles across his limbs the little crewmate takes the path straight ahead. If he gets lost it doesn't matter, he won't be found by that bastard. He refuses to be. He’d rather deal with every monster in this facility at once than Captain.

His footsteps echo in the empty halls, he’ll run until he can’t anymore. Rooms and halls blur past him with the single minded goal of disappearing into the maze of pipes. He nearly gets jumped by a Flea because of how focused he is, pincers grab onto his tanks and drags him off balance. With a shocked yelp the little crewmate finds himself staring up at the ceiling. Rolling away before it can entrap him he scrambles to his feet. With a sharp kick the bug is stunned and he continues to run, back aching from landing so hard. Once far enough away he stops to catch his breath and rub the pain. Fuck...that hurt...what am I doing? I'm better at keeping track of those things.

He swears he hears chittering, looking around and listening. Nothing moves, not even the pipes above. He feels watched but no matter where he turns there is nothing as far as his light reaches. Chip frowns and sighs, he's letting the facility get to him this soon? Picking a route to the right he presses on. Steps echo against the cold walls, broken only by the shuddering of the abandoned building. Rooms are far and few, mostly maze-like halls or giant corridors. Scanning rooms to search for keys has proven fruitless, he should have asked Citrus for some from his collection. Lost in thought he perks up at the sound of a second pair of footsteps, What? Where?  Fright spurs his actions as the man flees from the approaching entity. 

Jumping down steps he takes a right turn and has to slide to a halt at the sound of a turret. Scrambling over himself to get out of the line of fire he presses against a safe wall. The sound of bullets struck where he had been, a ricochet catching the edge of his visor. Breathing hard and the little crewmate considers checking back up the stairs. He discards the thought, he'd lose time. Biting his lip he swallows drily and inches to the door, there’s an open door on the other side. He could run. A hand pats his helmet, breaking the impulsive thoughts for logic to take hold. 

“Rook, please disable the turret closest to me. Please.”

They shouldn’t have wandered off, it's still way too early for that. There’s a moment before Ratchet answers, slightly out of breath, “On it.”

He tilts his head, why is she still there? Not allowed to sit on the question he perks up at the sound of the machine powering down. He scrambles to his feet and dashes across the room. Slamming the door to dissuade Captain from taking the path he crouches against the door to get his bearings. The hallways yawns in both directions, damnit…  

Chewing on his cheek he decides to go left, keeping his eyes up to avoid any more Fleas. When he comes across a six way crossroad the facility shivers, pipes groan loudly. Two halls fill with steam, obscuring the way forward and making him pause. Should he avoid those? Would he think he went that way? The turret is a good deterrent but he can still request it to be shut down. Skittering sounds have him looking around, he doesn’t have scrap to deal with any Hoarders so he’ll have to avoid them as best as he can. 

His feet move before he registers the sound of more footsteps, disappearing into a steam filled hall before he’s spotted. Just a little further…

Chapter Text

Ratchet lingers behind after the others have long since left, watching Rook go through his rituals to set everything up. They notice her after double checking the camera feeds as he sees his own back. Turning on his heel to face her, she chuckles, “Wondered when you’d notice.”

He tilts his head, “You’re almost never the last one out.”

Ratchet merely quirks a brow and tilts her head forward. An understanding settles between them and Rook exhales a little ‘oh’. He leans against the terminal as she gets closer, giggling in mixed feelings. Red grins and takes hold of his jacket zipper, “Well~ I did promise to reward you with something right?”

Rook shivers at her low purr, nodding. She easily walks them to the back by holding onto his zipper. Once out of view of the cameras she grins and whispers, “I want to see that cute face.”

His helmet is off and tossed onto the lowest bunk without a second request. Such a good boy. A half grin is tugging at his lips as he waits for her next command. Unzipping his jacket to about halfway she slides her hands over his chest. They release a shaky breath and sucks his teeth at her touch. Teasing and having him wait longer feels right, “Top off for me dear. What color should I use? Red or Purple? You do wear me best don’t you?”

The look he gives her is best described as heart eyes as he nearly trips over himself to get his clothes off. A purple jacket is tossed over the helmet followed by his shirt seconds later. His chest bruising has faded to an uncomfortable looking greenish tone, minus where Chip had nailed him. Ratchet clicks her tongue at the sight, impressed with how fast it’s fading but disappointed with his behaviour.

“You are healing nicely, wish you two stopped fighting. It makes it harder to keep you safe.” She murmurs while tracing the outline of the injury. Rook grunts and shrugs, “It’s not like I was in control when this one broke out. Plus he doesn't make it any easier– Ow!”

She pinched a nipple for his sass, watching him bite on his tongue. He rubs it with a pout as Ratchet pulls herself up the ladder to rummage through her pack. When her little pup rubs his cheek against her thigh she has to wave him off, listening to them audibly whine. Chastising their impatience, red returns to her task. Her search is successful, pulling out a length of red rope and purple collar. With them in hand she hops down. Rook gets fidgety seeing the collar, not shying away just getting excited. Twirling it leisurely she purrs, “Aw look at you~ Too bad this here is for good boys and you've certainly been a pain lately. Are you a good boy? Will you not cause trouble this mission?”

He looks so offended when she says he’s been a pain, “Hey! I’m doing my best!”

She pets under his chin, their expression melting as he leans into her palm, “You are, still a little sass ass though but I did promise so~”

The collar is affixed around his neck and Rook wiggles his hips. He always looks so cute in it, will look even cuter with rope bites. Petting his head she purrs, “Alright lovely, on your knees before I give you a treat.”

Rook nods eagerly and takes hold of her zipper pulling it down as his other hand trails over her chest. Lifting her crop top higher he kisses her exposed skin. Red has to breathe out slowly to keep from jumping on her excitable boy. They have time. Besides, he loves feeling the muscles that throw him around effortlessly. They let go when the zipper hits her belt, vibrating with giddiness on their knees. A hand pets his head, “Looks like you are a good boy.”

Undoing her belt so he can finish unzipping her coveralls, Ratchet nods towards her crotch. Wordlessly purple shifts closer and catches the metal tab with his teeth. They draw it down slowly, hot breath teasing her sex while he grins mischievously. Taking hold of his head, Red presses his face into her clothed cock, “Teasing little minx, your mouth that eager?”

Rook giggles and playfully ‘bites’ her shaft, “Fuck~ Keep that up and you’ll be choking on it.”

There’s fake distress at her ‘threat’ as he looks up at her with pleading eyes. Hands paw at her underwear but they don’t pull it down. He’s waiting for her permission, “Alright. If you make me cum I’ll tie you up in a star harness.”

A delighted spark alights in his eyes at the challenge, thumb glossing over her shaft. Fingers hook along the waistband and he lets his treat rest against his face. Eyes lid and a dopey smile paints his face while wrapping a hand around her dick and trailing kisses to the head. A low groan slips out but she remains composed and watching. Maybe she should have taken care of herself beforehand, welp too late now.

Undeterred Rook takes her into his mouth, she stiffens at the added sensation. Swirling his tongue along the head they hum with contentment. He loves this, he doesn't have to think. The voice shuts up when she takes the wheel.

“Hey, no thoughts in there~”

Her words break his concentration and has them blinking in confusion. Kind hands scratch his scalp as she coos, “Suck me off like that's all you're made for.” 

They nod with a little smile, taking her to the base. Eyes gloss over feeling her thrust into his throat, fffuck… Swallowing around his mistress’s cock his bobs his head. Twisting his head occasionally to keep her on edge he starts to lose himself. Saliva drips messily down his chin yet he doesn't care. Pulling back and breathing over the reddened head he wiggles in anticipation, will she fuck him? Or make him wait? Licking his lips he hungrily takes her to the base, earning a little ‘good boy'.

Idle hands wander, one rubbing along her hip and the other cupping her sack. Ratchet moans softly and tangles a hand through his brown locs. Pulling back and dragging his tongue along the underside he gives a cheeky little grin. Stroking her while peppering kisses down the heated shaft Rook wants to push her buttons. Using their best puppy eyes he rests his nose under her length and whimpers, nudging up and closing an eye. When she tries to pull him back onto her dick he resists and tugs at one of her pockets. She looks at him with a quirked brow, “Oh do you still have your own thoughts and desires? You know I can't get you intoxicated, you still have a job to do lovely. I'll just have to do this–” She sneaks a finger into his mouth and pulls him to the hilt.

Rook's eyes roll back, grinning like an idiot as she presses all the way inside. Tsking and shaking her head with a wry scoff she thrusts into his mouth, “You love being handled hm? Should get you a proper harness at this rate.”

He rolls his tongue and swallows around the pulsing cock in his throat, barely able to steal a breath between her deep thrusts. Bracing against her hips he can feel the subtle shake in her legs. His thoughts are slushy and he wouldn't want it any other way. 

“Let's see if you can swallow without choking this time~” 

It takes an effort to meet her eyes with the fuzziness overtaking his mind. Red pulls out just enough for him to catch his breath but all he does is give a little bark. That gets a chuckle out of her, “Alright pup, de~ep breath now.”

The command is followed and she slams into their mouth. Feeling completely surrounded has him in a blissful state. The rhythmic thrusts begin to get messy, he drags his nails down her sides. Rook can feel her pulsing against his chin before she hilts to the base. With a grunting moan she bursts, rocking against his face. Purple swallows, trying to be good as she pulls out and leaves one last rope across his face. Tongue lolls from his mouth and licks at cum that tries to escape him. That stupid smile never leaves his bruised lips.

“You really do look perfect marked. Stay and don't touch it.”

She walks to the bathroom as Rook sinks to the floor with a whine. He's so wound up now and desperately wants to cum. Barely holding himself up by his shaking arms he bites his lip. They’re so hard, straining at his pants. Just before he cracks and grinds into his tightened clothes Ratchet reappears with a damp towel, “Good boy, eyes up.”

She crouches down and cleans his face, watching him lean into her palm. Smiling, she leans in and kisses him while slowly pushing her little pup down onto their back. There's a muffled yelp from the cold floor but it's swallowed by her mouth. Tasting how they mix together has her itching to devour him. Tiny sounds slip past his lips as he wraps his arms around her neck. Breaking for a moment to enjoy the euphoric expression on purple's face Ratchet gives him another kiss, “Alright sit up.”

Betrayal stabs him as she gets off after making him such a mess, “M-Mistress ple~ase.”

“Oh found your voice, wonderful. You'll cum when I let you. Drink.” She finishes her words by tossing him a bottle while undoing the rope bundle. Good she picked the right length, “You'll wear this, do your job and get everyone back safe and I'll fuck you senseless tomorrow.”

His mouth opens in shock before pouting, “Tomorrow? But–”

She covers his mouth with the biggest smirk, “This is for letting yourself get into so much trouble on Offense. Running off like that and getting into a fight ending with an encounter. Yes, suffer a bit longer. I know you can take it.”

He turns a lovely dark shade but doesn't fight her, looking away but still pouting visibly. She pats his face, “You're adorable when you're frustrated. Oh and if you try to sneakily break this punishment; by either touching yourself or fucking Citrus I'm going to cage you for the rest of the mission and not fuck you. Understand?”

“Yes ma'am.”

They both can't help but giggle, serious threats aren't something the two play with often but she does need to reinforce that wasn't ok. He put himself in danger being so reckless. Not to mention not listening to a direct order to stay on the ship. But that stupid eager smile they wear around her makes her want to spoil her little fool.

“Alright stand up and I'll start the harness.”

He listens to her every instruction, lifting his arms so she can loop the sturdy rope around him. They stay quiet, enjoying the close intimacy with contentment. The deep red compliments his warm brown skin. She likes this batch and hopes it'll last longer than the last bunch. A certain someone got into trouble with it on and the entity destroyed the rope. Ratchet perks up hearing his radio crackle with static, “Rook?”  

That’s Chip’s voice, why is he radioing in so early? Wait, it's been like an hour, hour and a half.

  “... please disable the turret closest to me.”

Ah. Well, he can wait. Her little pup’s a bit tied up– “ Please .”

She stops at the desperation the walkie picks up, he sounds at the point of tears. He was running from Captain, is he still trying to outrun the man. Possibly. Sighing she moves and snatches the walkie off Brooks’ bunk, pointing at Rook, “Stay.”

When purple whines but doesn’t move she presses the button, breathing out, “On it.”

Simultaneously fixing her coveralls and double checking that the other is still comfortable she strolls out to the terminal. Chip’s dot is huddled against a wall, red dot standing off center in the room he must be trying to get through. Thumbing through the cams real quick to check up on the others she sees that Captain’s cam has gone dark. Bastard’s using something again…

Sighing through her nose she taps the code for the turret and watches Chip’s dot run through the room. Satisfied with the task she returns to her patient boy, “Got to finish up with you before we get found out.”

Rook just hums with a grin, offering the rope back to her. Skilled hands ensure the tension is correct as she loops the star into place and trails her fingers over his chest. Purple sucks in a shivering breath but stays quiet until she tugs the final part into place, “My troublesome boy, I’d do more but you need to be able to move. Pull here if you absolutely need to release it, should come undone easily enough. You know where the scissors are in case that doesn’t work, right?”

“Second drawer on the left cabinet.”

“Good boy. Chin up.” She whispers and they tilt their head back. Tracing his throat with a finger she gives his pulse a little kiss before unbuckling the collar, “Need you to be in the right headspace.”

“Naw…no fun.” They push out their bottom lip but nod, “Don’t need to tempt fate like that.”

He asks for another kiss and gets a playful face shove, “Get dressed and go back to work.”

Uniforms are zipped up and helmets resecured, the two clinking visors together before he heads to the front first. Adjusting her coveralls she sighs, it feels strange to be able to enjoy this when it’s only possible on the back of their most vulnerable. Glancing towards the opposite bunk she has to remind herself that this was the deal. If she didn’t accept he would have killed her. Her scars burn a bit thinking about it.

Hope he’s been able to stay out of his grasp.

Rook was leafing through cams as she strolls forward to get her tanks on. He just tilts his head back, “The facility is awake now. Looks like one Thumper, at least a small Hoarder gang and signs of a Spider. No scans of a Bracken or anything else big yet, so we’ll see. Would be a wash of a first day if nothing bigger is here.”

I think the purpose of this mission is a lie…March would have been better for a monster mission...unless...no he wouldn't..

“Thank you for the update, where is everyone?”

“Captain’s in complete black out and I can’t get a read on Chip, something’s interfering. Shocking, I know . Looks like Citrus and Brooks are on the fire exit escape side of the facility. They are still in the clear for several hours before the outside gets dicey.”

“Good work, stay safe.”

She picks up her sign and double checks her gear before stepping out. Having several tracks to follow makes getting to the facility easy enough and she takes the time to use the sturdier bridge. She’d rather maintain the flimsy one in case someone needs it escaping later.

Rook wasn’t lying about the factory being alive, it rumbles at her presence. Eying muddy footprints going straight ahead red opts to go to the right. Chip will draw the attention of any bigger targets, which might be why no one else has scanned in anything more than a Thumper.  Although a Barber or Coil-head would make things difficult. It feels strange to not need to collect scrap but to feel the routine she starts a pile at the door until she gets too far to continue trekking back. Hoarders circle her curiously and chitter at her sign, “Hey, no. Mine. Here, you nebby bugs.” 

Tossing a rubik's cube the bug picks it up with a side to side dance with a victorious cry. When they’re docile the little things are almost cute. The same thing could be said with Maneaters and look at what it did to her purple idiot. It’s better to not start unnecessary fights with entities. 

_-_-_

Citrus hums with a bounce in his step down the hall while Brooks follows behind. With less pressure to bring back scrap Citrus has been unwinding more and more as time passes. When it's not going tits up, being in the facilities is relaxing for him to some extent.

So far they've only encountered a Spider that nearly ensnared the overly confident man. Blue reacted faster and snatched him out of the webs before killing it with extreme prejudice. Orange will take how hot that was to the grave. The two collected samples as instructed which was not as gross as anticipated. Brooks' been oddly quiet since entering the factory, which the shorter crewmate finds strange. He was so chatty the first time they were paired together on Offense was a welcomed change to the normal silence. Granted then orange was not comfortable with talking freely and kept his answers unseasoned. Now with this silence Citrus is actively weighing showing his cards a bit. 

Brooks did piss Chip off last night, but he himself has done the same before so it doesn’t feel like a complete deal breaker. Green wasn’t too forthcoming but hinted that he asked about their relationship, the touchiest subject. Barking up the wrong tree there…  

When he doesn’t hear the extra set of footsteps, orange stops and puts his hands on his hips. Sighing deeply through his nose he glances back. Brooks is staring at the floor, heel bouncing in thought. Hmm…I reckon he's got a soft spot for Chip. And not in a way that is malicious, well…I can test him with that…

Rubbing his neck and taking a slow breath Citrus debates dropping one of his close kept secrets. Chip’s had his back since day one, maybe it’s time to do the same with this opportunity. Besides, Brooks helped on Offense, going off alone to find Chip without hesitation. He even gave him a new name completely unprompted and it really fits him better. Bait always felt like a title, a mockery, never a nickname. He even managed to calm Chip down after a panic attack, something only Citrus has been able to do. Brooks is nothing like any of the other employees that have come onto the ship, treating them like equals despite seeing behind the curtain so quickly. 

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” 

The question breaks his train of thought, piercing the silence and hanging in the stale air. Perking up to look at the other Citrus stares at the tinted visor. Sticking out his tongue while rolling his jaw side to side, he nods to himself. He trusts Brooks, he at least trusts he ain't some snake.

“Chip? If he's got his wits about him, he'll be fine. This ain’t our first rodeo on Vow." Brooks tilts his head with Citrus loosening his tongue a bit to let his drawl out, "He’s more capable than he lets on. Although I got a medpack just in case we run across him. He won't bring in his own and you can't make a horse drink. You ever dealt with Vow before?”

“A..A handful of times, Keepers are a real pain in the ass.”

“Ri~ght, you were the terminal guy. Well, yeah. It tends to be the moon of choice when certain monster tasks are involved. Mostly because there’s no Masked, completely useless for research because they’re mostly humans. ‘Nothin' interestin' to learn’,” He sarcastically quotes with a scoff, “The snake wants monster research then comes to a moon with four bugs, three unkillables and two plant critters. And that's just inside! It don't add up."

Saying it out loud even Citrus pauses, why are they here?

"And so few species that'll fuck you. I don't have the stomach to try out any of those damn bugs though, that Maneater nearabout killed Rook. If it did that much damage to him, it would kill me,” Chewing on his lip for a moment he presses on to keep his nerves down, “None of the critters here are down for a 'You scratch my itch and we get off' kind of chat. Only a handful of monsters stop long enough to shag it out instead of just taking it and those don't live on Vow. I haven’t tried Brackens though. Mostly because they’re huge and I’m small. Fun sized even. Them? King sized. Don’t re~ally work for me.”

His words hang thick between them, Citrus crossing his arms and waiting. If Brooks reacts at worst with neutrality he’ll drop the façade entirely. Blue stands up straighter, head tilting as he struggles to say things for a few minutes. Watching him pace and debate an answer was kind of amusing, making him cup his own cheek and shake his head. N’aw that threw him for a loop. Cute.

Finally Brooks clears his throat, “S-So when you told me you didn’t mind monster attention…?”

“That I like to chase the midnight rooster with a Masked? Saturday's sin being Sunday's confession in the lap of a Nutcracker? Talk to a man about a dog? Or knockin' boots?" Listing them off just started to become fun so even as Brooks wilted a touch they kept falling free, "Grabbin' a rubber an duckin'? Get marinated with a different kind of sauce? Make the priest jealous? Summoning the banshee? Yeah I like getting down with monsters?" He could have kept going but Brooks lifted his hand in surrender so he just leans against the wall and grins at the visibly embarrassed man. Scratching his filters and glancing around to make sure they're still alone he only hears a stuttered, "H-how?"

"Yeah, that was wild to find out. Nearly died over it too! Hah. How? You ain't unlocked that part of my tree of friendship yet. Don’t get me wrong, I don't float with the whole forced thing but when it’s a choice? Good stuff,” He gives a quick ‘ok’ gesture, finishing his thought with a casual shrug. Brooks shakes his head like he didn’t catch what he said. While he continues stumbles to form words of orange stretches and grins. Well he hasn't called him names or run off so that's a good sign.

“You're certainly not as innocent as you present yourself being.” He finally answers, the other swears he can feel embarrassed heat coming off blue. That’s not an answer he was expecting but he’ll take it. A mischievous grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, “Oh yeah? Well I'm great at pretending. Pretended to be a girl for 23 years so playing naive is easy enough. Allows others to let slip things they'd rather keep close. You've been an odd man mister Brooks. Genuine to a fault and eager to stick your business where it don't belong. But I trust you and I really need someone who won't judge me for things out of my control. I feel like everyone does.”

“Where'd all that come from? I didn't take you for uh, deviant.” Brooks says with a teasing tone, attempting to shake off his initial discomfort. He was not expecting the short man in front of him to be the freaky one. Orange suddenly stiffens, hands balling up into fists. Brooks holds up his hands. Did I put my foot in my mouth again?

“What? You reckon I ain't right in the head?” He snaps, pointing an excusatory finger at the much larger man. Brooks waves hands in front of himself, “No! I guess I'm surprised that you're opening up so much suddenly. Everyone seems all hush hush about everything.”

“Because you ain't been an asshole! You’ve shown actual care towards us!”

Is the bar that low? Brooks is so thankful that remained an inside thought. He is convinced Citrus would have gotten furious had that slipped, it's clear there's a lot of pent up feelings in the small body. Chip's not the only one with problems, shouldn't be that shocking honestly.

Citrus huffs and bitterly mutters, “Do you know how isolatin' it is to feel excitement fucking monsters when the only people you’d feel comfortable saying anythin' to would be horrified at worst and pity you at best? I don't want pity, I like having fun! It's frustratin' having to sneak around when I get worked up so I'm not found out to have a fetish like this. Stars I'd never to able breathe again if the wrong person knew.” 

His shoulders drop as he rubs his arm, turning his head away. Brooks chews over what that would feel like. Like hell, he concludes seeing the other shrink in on himself a bit. Stepping closer, he pats his shoulder, “You have a lot of feelings you haven't been able to voice huh?”

Citrus scoffs and smacks his hand away, “It's hard when the person you want to tell everything to is uncomfortable if the conversation gets spicy in any way. He gets so flustered, I keep trying to talk around it but he avoids me afterwards. Makes me feel lower than dirt.”

“He does turn such a cute shade of pink hm?” 

The two stop when Brooks realizes he said that out loud. Not again! Citrus slowly tilts his head up at him like he’s just said the most out of pocket comment. Dread settles in his stomach, waiting for the other to snap at him again. A long pause hangs between them before Citrus starts laughing. That…was not the reaction expected. The spitfire points at him, gasping between bouts of giggles, “You caught feelings! Haha! Fuck! Hahaa, I knew I had you pegged!”

Embarrassment colors blue's cheeks listening to the small crewmate but the teasing in his voice was not missed. The fits have Citrus leaning against the wall, laughing harder when he looks at him. It's infectious and soon Brooks joins in, truly laughing for the first time in a long time. It is a little silly, he supposes.

“Fuck I'm laugh crying you bastard.” Orange shakes his head and gasps raggedly. The sound of skittering catches both of their attention. Right, monster infested facility. The giggles still have the other at its mercy, growing frustrated that they aren't subsiding. Brooks snaps back at a louder, lower rumbling that echoes off the walls. What was that? It doesn't sound like anything he's familiar with. Turning back to ask Citrus if he heard it, the little crewmate is not there. There’s only two ways he could have disappeared and one is the way he was looking. 

“Keep up ol' man!” Comes a yell from halfway down the hall. He did not expect him to be so relaxed in this place. Adjusting his hold on his weapon, Brooks chases after him, “You’ll run into a Slime being this reckless!”

A wildly offended gasp stops Citrus in his tracks, whipping around with his shovel up, “Don’t you dare put a jinx like that on me!”

“Then stay close.” He counters, lowering the blade of the weapon with a chuckle. Movement beyond them has him tense up, it’s a strange looking critter that immediately starts running away. An urge to chase pulls at him, “There’s something down the hall.”

“Hmm? Well, it’s not aggressive. If it's Hoarders I got scrap.” Orange puts his weapon away and heads off in that direction. Brooks has a passing thought, how does Chip handle Citrus when they’re in here ? He’s the opposite of the cautious and quiet man, maybe it’s one of those ‘two extremes make a balanced middle’ situations?

“Wait! We should take that Spider back!”

Chapter Text

Heavy rushing stomps chase after much lighter steps. Turning sharply down a hall the little crewmate barely misses taking a full hit from the monster. The sounds of scrambling limbs surround him as he searches for a place to hide. Chip bursts through a door, falling against it to slam it shut, panting heavily and sliding against it to brace as thundering thudding approaches.

Crash!

He’s shoved away from the door, scrambling back and pressing his weight against it. Another slam and snarl from the Thumper on the other side, teeth scraping against the metal. Shivers run up his back from the sound as it slams against him again. Go away! Leave me alone! Go away!

Holding his breath and pressing his knees to his chest for one last violent thud against the failing hinges. Screws and glass rain on him harmlessly before there’s a chuff and the sound of retreating thumps. He remains braced for a few seconds of silence broken by his heart thundering in his ears before he relaxes with a defeated whine. Arms heavily thud onto the floor, feeling like jelly. His legs ache from running so much, he had almost missed the footsteps. Slumping over to catch his breath he stares up at the ceiling.

This already sucks…fuck, I don’t know where I am anymore. Rubbing his shoulder and carefully crawling away from the glass Chip huddles against a corner. He needs to calm down, getting worked up is what causes mistakes. Rook hasn’t been answering so he suspects Captain has tampered with his signal. He hopes Citrus and Brooks are ok. He hasn’t heard them radio out for help. Citrus is going to be so mad at him for running without saying anything, what could he have?

Leaning back to let his head fall against the wall he sighs. He’s so tired. He can tell this mission is going to end badly for him. How badly is yet to be seen. Taking a deep breath he folds his legs down and looks at the bag Captain had given him. He should understand what is inside it anyway.

Vials. Many vials of various collecting methods. He flinches back from any sharps, grimacing. He is not trying that, he gets hurt enough just getting caught. The other vials have him going red, of course . 

Zipping it closed he gets to his feet, rubbing his neck and thinking. Scrap haul is secondary to the monster assignment but scrap collecting makes him feel normal. Less like a lame animal waiting to be found by a predator. He was able to pretend for two whole missions, almost believing his condition had subsided. How naive to think he’d get such a break, it would have faded a long time ago if that was the case. Sighing and grumbling he thumbs through the monsters he’s up against. I can deal with Hoarders, Fleas, Slimes and Spiders enough…I really don’t want to be caught by another Spider…or Slime for that matter…stars I can’t believe that went so badly…

Muttering and making sure he isn’t caught unaware of his surroundings he ponders to himself. Thumpers..Springnecks…uh fuck Barbers can be found here…and Maneaters too, both rarely…and of course, Brackens. Brackens being one of the most common monsters here…

Bitterness chokes him as he swallows the urge to just scream, he doesn’t know what to do. That’s a lie…he does but is desperate to be a good crewmate in any way but that. Why is that all that seems to matter? Gripping the sides of his helmet he growls at no one, maybe at himself. He’s so angry at himself for letting Captain corner him, frustrated that he’s so scared again. Confused with Brooks wanting to get so close, is he a Company man too? Why else would he want to know me?

The memory of after the Coil-Head encounter plays in his mind, he didn’t sneer at him in some of his worst moments. Yet he’s too buddy buddy for only one mission, right? Citrus did mention he had lost his crew…is he clingy from that? He asked about his relationship with little orange so casually, is it a ploy? Another trick? 

I hate Vow…

No longer wishing to be tormented by his own thoughts, Chip trudges forward. Opening the door on the other side of the room he comes face to face with more pipe-covered halls. Shoulders drop, he’s so lost. Making a low sound in his throat the little human scans the vicinity, something lights up with question marks but when he scans again it’s gone. Was…did he see that right? Looking in that direction he decides not to follow after it, instead investigating a nearby locker room. Rifling through unlocked lockers he comes across discarded papers that are in a language he can’t read. This is just as frustrating as Rend…wait..!

Whipping around with his flashlight on he stares at the door, did he imagine eyes on him? Unease laces through his mind, why is he so on edge?

...

Well what other reason?

Chewing on his lip he drops the documents and collects a few pieces of scrap so he can trade with Hoarders if he comes across any. He’s yet to deal with unusual encounters with most of the bug monsters but the Maneaters have proven it’s not a 0% chance. Chip grimaces at the thought, he really doesn’t want to deal with something like that. Patting his hands against his pants he presses on. 

His mind soon buzzes at everything, any little sound or movement in the corner of his eye. The paranoia is killing his flashlight and the facility has been relatively empty. Despite hearing a few different monsters only the Thumper has made itself known. Heavy thuds nearby have him jumping back against the wall, “Fuck! Why?!”

Stunned at his own outburst he grips the front part of his helmet reflexively. When nothing appears he finds himself growing agitated, he’s such a wreck right now. Growling in frustration he knocks his head against the wall, “Stop it. Damnit, this is getting ridiculous..”

Rook must be enjoying watching him struggle so much, it makes him unsure about reaching out. Every sound feels like a threat. The groaning of the place is making him nauseous and he just wants reassurance. Even if it’s just a terse no. He needs to hear someone else's voice, it’s been so quiet. 

“R…Rook?”

The device cracks and staticky laughter filters up from the speaker. It’s not anyone’s voice he recognizes. The man jumps and drops it like it burned him, staring at the flickering screen. Oh… oh no . The little crewmate had forgotten about the hallucinations being by yourself can bring out. Yet…this felt personal. Pointed, mocking. He can’t be sure that his signal is able to reach the others and with shaky hands he clips the walkie back into place. Calm down, it’s ok. It’s ok…fuck I didn’t even consider that side effect…

He’s can't pin down why he's this jumpy, this on edge. Is this because Captain could be nearby? Or a creature is stalking towards him from somewhere he can’t see? Is it because he hasn’t been alone for a while? All the thoughts press against his skull, making him sink to the floor. Why am I so scared? I’m a good crewmate, I’m good…I do..good, fuck my heart won’t stop racing. I want to leave, I want out! No…no he’ll find me…I’m so tired..I want to hear Citrus’ voice…anyone's voice...

Feeling dizzy from the overwhelming emotions and building anxiety Chip sits back on his haunches with hands planted flat on the ground. Letting his head fall back he breathes slowly. Where did this dread come from? The filters are working properly, right? Touching the sides of his helmet and finding nothing out of place he reaches back to inspect the tubing. Nothing wrong there either so it’s just himself stressing out. Shaking his head and looking forward and backwards down the hall he slowly stands. Something has got to change.

His ears catch what sounds like rustling leaves and his heart drops into his stomach. No, please no. Would it be my luck? Must be another hallucination . He knew that thought was wishful thinking as soon as it crossed his mind. The little crewmate is pretty deep in the facility and alone . Of course he’s been found by the most dangerous entity in the facility. The sound gets closer and not wanting to be caught, Chip takes off in the opposite direction despite the ache in his legs. He can’t outrun them, he can barely outsmart them when he’s been this rattled. This is just delaying the inevitable but by the stars he’ll delay. 

Clearing a gap and crashing through the door on the opposite side he pauses to catch his breath at a crossroads. A deep roar that shouldn’t be that close has him nearly jump out of his skin as he starts to run again. Barely managing a few more steps a weight slams into his back, the impact sending him to the floor. 

Groaning from falling Chip rolls over while rubbing his head, seeing two white dots peering at him from a vividly red face. Panic licks through his veins and he kicks away from the monster stalking forward. All his logic abandons him as he struggles to get his feet under himself, staring into those eyes. Ferns vibrate as a clicking snarl swells in the beast's throat.

Movement has him bring his arms up to protect himself, pain engulfs his right arm. Dry lips part with a breathless scream, sound swallowed as his vision is filled with white teeth and disorienting light. The Bracken had snapped its jaws around his bent limb, tearing the sleeve with claws as it forced him against the floor. 

Shock and terror consume Chip’s mind, this isn’t normal! He isn’t attacked like this! Is it going to kill him?! True fear for his life and limb has him striking out hard with his left fist, aiming for the throat. The monster chokes and recoils, releasing his arm enough for him to pull free. Material tears further as the little crewmate rips himself from its mouth. The stabbing pain has him gripping his upper arm, bringing a knee up to keep the snarling mouth from ripping into his chest. Claws slam on both sides of his head while the beast growls. Saliva dripped over his visor, blinding him and making the sound of ferns press in from all sides. Tears roll down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut, I don’t want to die! 

Suddenly everything goes dark, leaving him believing death actually caught him. He flinches when the little red warning lights of his visor illuminate the back of the monster’s mouth. Confusion turns to icy dread hearing plastic creak as fangs scrape against his helmet. Throaty growling finally snaps him out of his inaction, clawing at the release of the helmet. Air hisses just as the monster twists its head violently, his helmet yanked away harmlessly with a low warning beep. 

Shallow shaky gasps is all Chip can manage, eyes staring through the deep red skin above him. It tried to kill him, nearly succeeded. Shallowing and glancing up as his brain sluggishly attempts to get a plan an escape. He can not be taken by this monster, he has to get away. It thinks it killed him in these few seconds but the moment he moves it’ll be on him again. Throbbing pain makes him cringe and shiver. Wiping sweat from his face he stares at his hand with quiet resolve, he can distract it from killing him..maybe just long enough to get free.

The small shift of him moving must have caught the Bracken’s attention as it drops the empty helmet and snarls down at him. Instinctively shielding his head as it lunged, his palm presses against the Bracken's face. It presses closer in bristling hostility despite him trying to keep it away. Slowly the growling tapers off into the beast's throat, the little human daring to release the breath he held. Deep investigative chuffs warm the glove as eyes slide closed, chirps slipping between trembling fingers. The ferns shiver but not in rage as a long thick tongue wraps around his hand. Well it’s not going to break his hand…hopefully.

Glowing eyes snap open and ensnare him for a moment before he rips his gaze away, can’t lose focus. His hand is released in favor of his exposed neck, a high pitched sound has the human blushing brightly as the wet muscle drags across pale skin. Leaning away from the needle-like teeth he tenses as painfully sharp claws pin him in place. His uniform is torn further from his neck which allows the slimy appendage to slip between clothes and skin. It’s humiliating to have spared himself like this, shivering at the sticky mess left behind with each swipe of the tongue.

Thinking quickly he unbuckles his belt, the distinct sound getting the monster’s curiosity. Hands shift while it withdraws its head to examine what made the noise. No longer pinned he brings his legs up, bracing with his left and kicking out hard with the right. The heavy boot connects with the monster’s head, snapping it to the side with little effort. A single confused sound comes from the Bracken before ferns wilt and it slumps over. He hasn’t killed it but either stunned or knocked it out. 

Dragging himself free Chip gets to unsteady feet. He blinks in disbelief, I…I…

Snapping to attention with the internal scream of run, he fixes his belt and helmet before near blindly fleeing. Halls blur as he runs, fully expecting to look back to see two white dots chasing after him. Adrenaline keeps him moving up stairs and over gaps until his legs just can't continue. Forced to stop and catch his breath Chip fruitlessly wipes at the slimy visor, groaning that the action doesn’t actually clean it. His arm aches and he can’t tell if it’s still bleeding but the gross feeling in his glove says it's been bleeding decently. In the quiet thrum of the factory it hit him all at once.

He escaped a Bracken.

He managed to get away from a monster without an encounter. Why does he feel ill instead of proud? Green is unsure if doing that was a good thing or bad. It’s probably bad by Captain’s criteria as he is not ‘profitable’. Thinking like that has him yank the helmet free as his guts churn. Leaning against the wall by his uninjured arm he dry heaves, head spinning. His stomach clenches but does eventually settle as he slowly breathes. 

The human can’t linger, he'll be hunted by an angry and now horny monster with his scent on its mind. Reluctantly Chip leans back and affixes the helmet back on despite the continued nausea. Turning to keep going he barely registers a flash of yellow. Pain catches Chip off guard as he is suddenly staring up at the ceiling. His head throbbing from cracking off the wall while he gasps from getting winded. Wh..What?

“Found you dog!” Captain snaps, snatching him up by his jacket. Chip grabs his wrists, no! Nonono!

“Look at you~ Fucking filthy but perfect for you.”

Terror has Chip reacting instinctively, kicking out hard and staggering the man. Uncoordinated limbs struggle to get him off the floor, breaking out into a cold sweat. How?! Why does he scare him so much worse than the monsters? Chip moves before the thought connects, feet slipping a little as he tries to run.

“Not so fast you little bitch.” Captain growls while grabbing hold of his injured arm. The smaller man screams and pulls against his grasp, clawing at his fingers. Blood wells up from the deep puncture wounds, dripping from the holes in the failing material. Desperation takes hold and he pulls his trapped hand free of his glove. Digging into the tears on his sleeve Chip wretches his arm free while sacrificing his uniform. Captain falls back with the torn sleeve and the other turns tail. Fear nips at his heels as he runs away like his life depends on it, not looking back once.

Captain grunts and sits up to see a boot disappear around the corner ahead. A scowl carves across his face, “Damn dog…hmm?”

Glancing at the lost fabric an idea comes to mind. He doesn't necessarily need the dog to hunt, well… might have just saved yourself.  

Standing up slowly to nurse the spot kicked he decides that he'll deal with the mutt later. Retracing his path to a split Captain takes the sleeve and turns it inside out. Marking the wall with blood he hopes the Bracken follows his trail. Passing halls and rooms he finds one with only one way out. Marking the door and wall with the last smears of blood he tosses the sleeve inside.

“Now something with some stopping power.” Clicking on his scanner he sees a dot ahead and to the right. It could be either a turret or mine. Moving quickly while preparing a device to disable what he finds, Captain knows he must be hasty. He doesn't know how long it'll take for the Bracken to come his way if it does. 

Unfortunately the dot is a Flea which is swiftly murdered with a shovel for the crime of not being what he wants. Pressing further and scanning he passes a room with two turrets which adds to his aggravation. Rounding a corner the man finally finds exactly what he wants. A mine in the middle of the hallway and it'll be easy enough to disable. Crouching down and creeping closer, Captain plugs the device into the object. There's a beep before the red light goes dark. 

Slowly picking it up from the sides to not jostle the firing mechanism he pauses at a distinct sound. A wailing roar reverberates from somewhere deeper in the facility. He doesn't have much time but he doesn't need that much for this. Briskly walking back to a room offset from the trap room he waits just beyond the threshold. Will it take the bait or sniff out the dog?

Shifting leaves reach his ears as heavy steps approach. It took his path! A grin with too much teeth pulls at his lips as he quells the building excitement to maintain his position, barely visible to watch as a rather small Bracken appears. It's a darker red than most he's encountered so he is immediately intrigued. What makes this one different? When the beast disappears inside he moves, ripping the device off the mine.

10…

9…

8…

The monster is sniffing the discarded fabric, chittering and swinging its head side to side in search.

7…

6…

5…

The mine re-engages with a high pitched beep, drawing its attention. It whips its head back, looking perplexed at not seeing the dog it ravaged.

4…

3…

Captain frisbees the mine at the monster while simultaneously slamming the door shut. There's a loud snarl at his movement. His heart spikes with a deranged sense of pleasure.

2…

1…!

The explosion shatters the glass and a pained roar comes from the beast. Captain dusts himself off while standing up and peers inside, the mine had blown off a leg and crippled the other. Ferns on the left side of its body smolder and flake off. It isn't going anywhere. Manic excitement wells in his being. He hasn't been able to get his hands on a sturdy beast since Rend, Offense doesn't offer much in the way of experiments. 

Opening the door and going inside his heart is racing, “I hope you can last longer than a measley Thumper. Made quite the pretty red mess though, I wonder what you bleed.”

It hisses at him and takes a swipe, Captain stops it with the sharp end of the shovel. Tsking at it like a child he slams its fingers into the metal floor, severing two. It shrieks in pain with ferns vibrating in anger, swinging again.

“So stubborn. Well, unlike my pet you chewed on, I'm not required to keep you alive.” He catches the arm, grunting in pain before locking the limb against his body and bending it backwards. There's a confused sound before the Bracken starts hissing and pulling in distress. He grins at the predator’s pain, pressing a hand on the joint and slamming forward. A sickeningly sharp crack comes from the elbow and it's shrieking once again.

“For something labeled flora you beasts have shockingly mammalian joint structures, makes it easy to disable. Problem is you use your size and stealth to stay out of my grasp.”

“Hmm?” He looks at the severed fingers and sees they've started rotting yet the stumps already show signs of healing. Thick sticky green blood pools around the exposed meat. Is it meat if this is a plant creature? An elevated healing factor?

Moving to the mess that used to be its legs he sees similar healing, “Fascinating. You heal surprisingly fast, however let’s stress test that a bit.”

Taking hold of the broken arm he twists the limb like a towel. The monster screams, clawing at him with its last working arm. Captain merely kicks it away and pins the limb down underfoot.

“Still have a lot of fight left in you? Good, can’t have you dying before I’m done with you. Let's see, oh yes my examination tools.” Taking a hammer and a few long thick nails from his pack he flashes it at the creature. It shrieks with rattling ferns and shoves him off, dragging itself towards the door. The man begins laughing, grabbing onto the raw flesh and yanking it away from freedom, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Claws drag helplessly as he lines up a screw and drives it through the stump of the leg. The man hooks the claw of the hammer on a nail in the floor and pulls it out. Lining up the bloodied to the empty hole he slowly drives it into the spot as the beast struggles. It snaps and snarls, trying to twist and slash at him but it just can't reach.

“Oh you're not getting away, I have orders and well..heh, desires.”

He does the same with the other leg and examines the damage, poking at the ragged wounds with the hammer. The ferns rapidly rattle as the beast growls, slowly morphing in pain filled whines. The skin is healing, slowly but it is stitching back together. 

“Interesting…” Tilting his head he pulls out a journal and begins to write things down. He stops when teeth snap near his face, lifting his head. The Bracken growls, saliva dripping from its fangs. He notes a few scraps of green fabric between its teeth. Placing his pen down and closing the book he stares it down.

“Offering samples?” He pulls a vial full of swabs out from his bag as well as unclipping his knife, “Behave and I won't knock out all your teeth.”

His oddly commanding voice has the beast squinting but the growling melts into labored whines. Captain manages to gather a sample before the beast snaps out of it, jaws snapping at him. The man says nothing but a sickening grin pulls at his lips. With a silent flick of his wrist his knife slices across the creature's face. It wails and recoils, pawing at the seeping blood and eye he had destroyed.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” He coos as he stands, holding the blade to examine the blood and fluid, “Certainly less like blood, hope I have a gauge big enough. Now.”

He kicks the monster and stomps on the broken and twisted limb. Twirling another nail he soon has all four limbs pinned, the Bracken looking like some fucked up butterfly. Investigating the immobilized creature Captain notices that its body is in far worse condition than earlier. 

“Your healing pulls from your own body. So that's why you rot so fast after death. Hmph, well that's no fun.”

Standing he walks out, listening to it throw hisses and snarls at him. Collecting a few biomaterials from the Flea corpse he returns with it in hand. Dumping it on the floor he chuckles darkly, “I don't want you dying yet. I have a lot of tests to do and anger to let out so eat it.”

Kicking it towards his prey while closing the door behind him, the man purrs, “Let's see just how durable you are.”

Chapter Text

The stressed out crewmate finally stops running after noticing no one has been following him. His fear urges him to continue running but he finds his steps slowing to a halt at a junction. Hands brace against his knees, head hanging as he pants haggardly. Once he isn’t struggling to put the fire out in his lungs does he manage to be quiet enough to listen. Swinging his head from one direction of the hallway to the other he strains to hear anything. There’s only silence which has him confused. Why…when..?

Did the Bracken not follow him? He did hear the roar, the last situation got so dicey so how did he manage to escape? Glancing at his exposed bloody arm he grimaces, did Captain do something? He was not going to find out nor feel bad if it is the case after all that. They deserve each other.

Licking his lips and standing up he clicks his walkie, “Anyone there?”

It frazzles loudly but nothing legible comes through. Well at least it's not laughing at him this time. He tries to call specific people, Citrus, Ratchet and then Brooks but no one comes through. A heel bounces as the anxiety builds in his stomach. Chip wants to hear someone's voice before he starts losing it again, just one word… something . Please… Shaking his head to stop the spiraling he picks a direction that hopefully doesn’t end in a deadend. 

Trekking carefully through the factory he can occasionally hear what sounds like hissing somewhere behind him. It's faint enough to ignore for the time being as he climbs a set of stairs. The man stops at the landing, swallowing a twinge of helplessness as he stares ahead. Steam engulfs the way forward which he hesitates approaching, suit breached and all. He also doesn't want it to agitate the angry wounds. 

With this path a dud Chip backtracks and takes another path, needing to stop when his arm shocks him with pain. As much as he's glad to have gotten free the bite burns in a way none of his shoulder bites have. Then again he hadn't had to hurt himself further to escape a different aggressor. A dull pang of anger thuds against his chest but the flame fades to emptiness.

Examining where he is has him feeling small. It's a large empty room with scattered support structures. In the near oppressive gloom he can't see the ceiling or two meters in front of him. A cursory scan doesn't show any entities which has Chip feeling safe enough to assess his injury properly. Breathing slowly and leaning against a support pillar he flicks the light on to look at it. Frustrated with the state of his visor he pulls off the helmet so he can actually get a good look at himself. There’s four deep marks on either side of his elbow as well as underneath. It’s angry and extending his arm makes it continue to bleed. Thankfully it doesn’t appear that the teeth pierced into the muscle, a small relief.

Wincing in pain while prodding the skin has him a bit worried, he didn't bring anything in. Citrus is going to be so upset at him. Maybe there’s something in the pack? Braving his own disgust he digs through the pack and finds cleaning pads but nothing that’ll be more permanent. It’ll be better than nothing if he doesn’t come across anyone else. Ripping open one of the pads with his teeth he sets about cleaning the wounds which has him hissing from the sharp stinging. 

‘ Tsssss…snip…Tsssss…snip…Tssssssss…’

Chip perks at the sound, mind too distracted to connect what makes it but knows he is no longer alone. Abandoning his task and gearing up he scans the area, silently cursing under his breath. Nothing but some scrap lights up, so it’s behind him. Clicking the flashlight off he holds his breath to listen closely. There's no steps, just low music but it's bouncing off the walls and pillars. Unable to pinpoint where the entity is he can't risk getting out of cover. 

Keeping low the man peers around in the darkness as the sound sneaks ever closer. There's not enough light so the creature remains unseen. Pressing his back against the pillar and he slowly stands, preparing to run or dodge if attacked. It's so close somewhere to the left behind the pillar, his frame going still. Oh…please go away. I'm so tired of running . It only gets closer. That…sounds like…scissors..?...!!

‘ Tsssssss…’

The room is swallowed by silence, no movement or music. He can only hear his heartbeat, visor lighting up with a proximity warning. Barely moving but glancing around frantically as to not be caught unaware Chip shakily exhales. Where is it? Slowly inching to peek around the support one small thought comes to mind, Why is it quiet?  

Crnch!

Crushed concrete showers around him as blades slam on either side of the pillar. Chip covers his head and drops to a crouch with a yelp of shock. Bits of rock and dust bounce off his helmet as he dares to look up. The sharpened metal is wedged several inches into the pillar at where his neck would have been, death seems to be teasing him today. With a strained sound of fright Chip pushes off the structure to his feet and whips around. A Barber peers around the damaged pillar, unease settling in his chest at the purple featureless face. 

It’s staring at him. 

The smooth humanoid creature jerks the massive pair of scissors free with some effort, metal grinding loudly. For something so big it silently steps to the right and snips at him, aiming at chest height. An icy shiver lights up his spine as the strange hissing returns. He barely remembers what that means before dodging out of the way as it leaps at him. Keeping it in sight he backs away nervously, turning on the flashlight to not lose sight of it. Chip covers his stomach with his right arm when it threatens him again. He hasn’t had enough run-ins with Barbers to have anything to fall back on to stay safe. His mind races but it comes up with very little, just don't get cut. So helpful…

His back meets another pillar as the snare drum sound returns. Quickly side stepping to the other side Chip expects it to attack the support but silence returns. Movement to his left has him jolt as he’s grabbed up by the upper arm, “Let go! Please!”

Dragged away from safety he’s thrown to the floor, the hissing returning when his chest hits the floor. Rolling over quickly and kicking to push himself away, Chip watches the Barber open the scissors. With a terrified scream he covers his head as the flashlight catches the weapon coming at him. The awful sound of metal hitting metal has him frozen on the floor. It's hard to breathe around the pain. 

Pain that isn't as bad as he expected.

Tepidly peeking between his arms he finds the scissors pinning him to the floor. The only thing that stopped them were his tanks so his uniform took most of the damage. Hands push against the thoroughly wedged blades, whining under his breath. The entity grabs his right wrist, the trapped human resisting the grip until it squeezes tightly, “Ah! No! Pl-please..”

It lifts his bleeding arm, tilting the featureless face. The little crewmate watches in abject horror as the clay like surface splits apart as if an unseen hand ripped it open. A long red tendril snakes out, the color draining from the human’s face. Chip's mouth works at words that refuse to come out as the strange tongue wraps around his arm. He shudders at the weirdly smooth texture and tugs weakly at the vice grip. The monster drags its tongue over his skin, lapping up the blood.

“L…let go..” He begs, flinching at the pulsing pain from his wounds, “Hurts…”

His limb is released and he holds onto his arm so it's not easy to grab again. A low drum hissing has him tense, he can't escape. The Barber leans against the weapon, grinding the blades into him as it leers down. In the low light he swears the normally purple color has a haze of red almost painted across the face. That doesn't bode well. A sense of dread settles as it pushes off and yanks on his uniform. 

“Wait! Waitwaitwait! You'll hurt me!” Chip struggles and pushes against the blades to try to get himself free. Metal screams as it ripped out and tossed aside, catching his hip and cutting him more. With a yelp he grips the torn fabric, frustration bubbling up at being hurt so much. The hissing gets louder as it gets closer, “W-wait…”

Seeing all the chances to escape vanish like smoke has him curl his hands into fists. He's out of tricks and just doesn't have much fight left in him, if he plays along it'll be over faster. The cornered man grits his teeth, escaping the Bracken was only truly delaying the inevitable. Sighing and sitting up, the monster musically growls but he hisses back, “Give me a minute! It's not like I can go anywhere!”

As if to further mock his situation the flashlight flickers with the threat of dying. Glaring at the beast for several heartbeats it backs off but he feels it staring down at him. The drumming hum returns as he opens the pack. Heat dusts his cheeks while fishing out the item that had embarrassed him earlier; a bottle of lubricant. Captain was being cruel but at least tearing won't be a risk.

Sucking at his teeth while the monster grows ever impatient he places it aside. Hands hesitates at his belt but with a slow breath there's a distinct click. He flinches when the Barber mimics the sound, swallowing around his suddenly dry tongue. Shimmying his pants to his knees he can see that he got cut good but it's not bleeding much.

Shame burns across his face as he reluctantly pours lube on bloody fingers. Poisonous whispers wreath around his mind, his anger turning on him with disgust. Squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to block out the words he exhales and applies the slick substance on his hole. It's not uncomfortable but displeasing to have to do. Adding more lube he presses his fingers inside, flushing in wild embarrassment and frustration. 

Well…he could have not escaped the Bracken and possibly be in a far worse condition. At least this entity is listening, somewhat. The Barber creeps closer as if it heard his inner dialogue, hissing and mimicking the belt sound. Chip gives a burning glare, his anger louder than his fear. The two have a silent stand off before the monster grabs his ankle and yanks him closer. Chip tenses up and whines, “H-Hey!”

The man haphazardly pours more lube on himself before the beast’s patience ends in its entirety. The Barber snaps the snare and shoves him back down by his shoulder, earning a surprised yelp from its prize. It looms over him, a low drumming in the air as it grabs hold of his loose pants and presses his knees to his chest. Darkness consumes the last rays of light from the flashlight, leaving him blind as it finally dies. 

Chip whimpers in discomfort, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut, feeling trapped under the large body. The snare hissing presses against his ears while something hard and smooth ruts between his legs. It still might hurt…

With a soft tsk the little human pours a large amount of lube into his hand and reaches down. The slippery digits graze against the thick shaft and pause for a split second as an inner voice rages at his actions. A low drum beat punctuates his movements which makes the pinned crewmate flinch. Stomach squirms with unease but he pushes through his hesitation, covering what he can reach with the gel like lube. Thoughts dripping in hatred mock his actions in Captain's voice, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Isn’t he hurt enough…? Can he not make this easier on himself?

Everything ceases as the blunt pressure builds against his hole, an uncomfortable shiver crawls up his limbs. Swallowing back a sudden dryness in his mouth Chip forces himself to relax just enough for the smooth head to plunge inside. Immediately his body rejects the intrusion, kicking out weakly against the entity’s chest. The invading cock is too smooth; it feels far more wrong than anything he's dealt with before. The man snaps his hand away, nails dragging against the floor as the monster sinks deeper. It still hurts but he doesn't tear so a small comfort with him impaled on the pulsing shaft. 

“Gck-fuck..” Chip breathes sharply through his teeth, hugging his injured arm to his stomach. It's such a strange feeling, almost fake if he wasn't being pinned down by the hissing monster. Breathy sounds drip from his lips with each shallow thrust, eyes rolling back in aversion as tears gather under his chin. It seems to want to take its time with him. Sharp thoughts mock him for all the effort to escape the other monsters, that he just rolled over so easily for this one.

Heat burns up his neck when hips rest flush against his skin, a low drum beat matching the pulsing deep inside. Chip chews his lip while his face tightens in conflicting emotions, “...hahnn hah…”

The entity pulls out to just the head before thrusting back to the hilt. The little human groans and hides his visor under his good arm. The snare builds with its pace, teasing reactions out of the trapped man with sudden drum beats to make him jump at the threat of a heavier thrust. Its mixed signals make it impossible for Chip to brace against it, unable to block it all out. He groans and presses trembling fingers against smooth thighs, hoping to give just a little space between each deep hip snap. 

The towering humanoid leans down and wraps its tentacle like tongue around his neck. Its captive tries to pull it off, earning a loud disorienting sound right in his face. A white glove wraps around the offending limb and pulls him into each thrust. Chip howls and thrashes in clotting panic, only stopping when the tendril tightens painfully around his throat. Gasping and digging bloody fingers between the clay and helmet he is completely caught. Can’t escape, can barely earn each ragged breath the little crewmate can only endure what it wants.

The jagged tear on the monster’s face twists into a near smile, only visible with it leering into his visor. Never has Chip thought he’d be so unnerved of something with no face. His hand is released in favor of bracing just next to his head, rhythmic thrusts forcing sounds past his bitten lips. All this attention on himself has the small man sinking into himself, it makes him sick that this monster seems so bent on hearing his cries. Hips rut into the abused hole, rubbing and rolling in warm insides until his vision is consumed with white stars. His mouth falls open with a sucking silent scream, “N-No! No! St-stop! Please!”

His neck is released from the tongue, broken floodgates leave him moaning loudly. Shaking fingers claw at his helmet in a fruitless effort to silence himself. The Barber wraps a gloved hand around Chip’s left leg and lifts him easily off the floor. The tanks scrap loudly as he's dragged closer, howling from feeling the beast’s cock prodding against his abdomen. Kicking out at the change in angle, his efforts are easily stopped with a displeased drumbeat. It pins his legs against its chest and ruts into him with a humming snare. The human screams and claws at the rough ground, it’s in his lungs! Ragged gasps feel forced out with each slap of clay against skin, “T-too much!”

His back aches from being pressed against the tanks, metal scraping across the concrete. Little whimpers break past his teeth, it is brushing past that spot. Heat creeps up his neck, pleasure mixing with pain in a mind numbing flood. Chip clenches his jaw and whines breathlessly, not wanting to cum. Can it just be over?

Something snakes around his neglected shaft and he snaps his gaze downwards but it’s too dark to see clearly. It coils and moves in time with every thrust, squeezing and releasing him. Only able to beg and struggle Chip sobs at feeling his body betraying him, getting hard under the relentless waves building in his core, “P-Please, let it g-go! I-I don’t want tha–at!” 

His words stutter and waver, moans getting louder and impossible to contain in any way. The entity pounds into him, leaning closer to force out more sounds from the mess of a man. He tries to hide his face behind an arm but it’s slapped away, tongue tightening around his sex as a warning. Legs quiver and toes curl as the little crewmate is rapidly pushed towards the edge. It’s so deep and relentless in testing his endurance. The knot clenches dangerously, nails digging into exposed skin in an attempt to break the building flood. 

Pain does nothing to stop it as his breath hitches and the dam shatters. A ragged voice cracking scream is ripped from him, the waves drowning him. White cum covers the Barber’s tongue and his own stomach, greedily licked up by the tendril. Chip can’t think, his mind completely fried leaving him a mewling mess in the monster’s grasp. It eagerly thrusts into him, forcing his orgasm to last and listen to his airless moans. When his sounds taper off it slows the pace and pauses, still hard. Dazed from the crashing orgasm Chip barely registers the monster pulling out. It tries to remove his pants but they get snagged on his boots. Bewildered sounds hum in the little human’s throat as hissing snares build in…frustration?

The fog turns to ice at the sound of metal dragging closer. it had grabbed its weapon. Hands scrabble helplessly against the ground in an uncoordinated attempt to pull himself away, “W-wait…no…please..”

Held firmly in place he can only struggle in rising panic. A sharp snap of drums has him go still, panting in blind fear. A hand holds onto both pant legs and something presses against the fabric caught above the boots. Confusion bleeds past the fear. “Wh-what..? No!”

The scissors close and he's dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. Groaning in pain Chip rolls to his side to get off his back, jolting as cold steel taps against his thigh. Toes curl in the momentary terror of possibly being dismembered before the scissors are soon discarded again. The Barber grabs his arm and lifts him up onto his feet, the man whimpering as fire zaps up his limb. 

Held up he is forced to step towards the nearest support column with a thrumming drum pressing against the back of his head. Jerking his arm free he shakily growls but is merely shoved against the pillar, a hissing snare pointed at his attempted resistance. Hands instinctively press to the rough surface, dread clawing at his stomach. His injury flares up when he’s pressed to his chest to the stone, making him cry out. Strong hands slide to his hips and in seconds he is lifted off the ground which has him grab at broken spots in the stone to not fall. The slick shaft rubs against his ass, getting him to whimper nervously before hilting in one fluid movement. Chip arches in its grasp, screams echo uselessly into the expanse of the large room. It’s overwhelming, it’s too much!

Suddenly feeling dizzy the little human’s head falls forward, whimpering and moaning with each gut rearranging thrust. Tears roll down his nose, dripping onto the filters as his tongue lolls past his teeth. Heated panting slowly fogs his visor, unnoticed by the wearer. Dull eyes stare through the darkness, completely unfocused. The Barber doesn’t like that he’s gone quiet as it shifts its movements to find that spot that makes him scream. Cupping a thigh to easily manhandle him snaps Chip from his daze, glancing down as he’s twisted to the side, “N-No! Hurts! St-sto–!!”

Words vanish when blinding stars dance in the darkness, head falling to the side from the effort of holding it up. Raw moans break free even as he turns his head into his shoulder. Satisfied with its human’s sounds the entity slams into the ensnared body, drumming in time. Chip whimpers, he can't tell up from down anymore. Hands lose grip against the stone and his body slips just enough to bring his mind back for a few seconds to grab on tightly. Slowly the snare folds into the building symphony as movement begins to get uneven. The change is unnoticed by the overstimulated crewmate. 

Chip bites his lip between deep pants, toes curling up with his legs squeezing together. The sloppy rhythm is tightening the coil again which he shakes his head as if it'll stop it. Inner walls clench around the smooth cock, the monster pushes him flush against the column. Thrusts bully the man's insides brutally, driving him closer and closer. 

“N..no! Pl–!!!” Breath completely abandons Chip for a brief heartbeat as he is dragged under again. Hands curl into fists as all his limbs tremble, muscles squeezing down on his captor. The Barber’s drums build and snare snaps as it does its best to become one with the human, heat pouring into squishy insides. Pressed hard against the pillar Chip can only whimper as the entity pumps into his guts. His stomach feels heavy as thick cum floods his system. Legs quiver with every sloppy thrust that bullies his sensitive insides, “N..no more…”

The Barber hisses softly and slowly pulls out, cum dripping down the human's inner thighs. Chip makes a low choked sound, eyes rolling back in revulsion. Finally placed back his feet his legs give out and sinks to his knees. Panting softly he flinches when the monster moves, expecting to see a flash of blades at his neck. 

Instead a gloved hand pats the top of his helmet and it turns into the darkness. The drums fade in the direction he thinks it came from and soon it is eerily silent. Chip doesn't move, pressing his forehead against the pillar and just breathing. His head hurts, his insides hurt but it doesn't feel like eggs. He goes to touch his stomach but a churning wave of nausea hits before his fingers make contact. Don't.

Glancing behind him with apprehension he scans the area. It doesn't pop up on the scan so it truly left the area. Struggling to get his legs back under himself Chip presses his forehead against the rough concrete once more, “...”

A single shaking sob slips past his lips before drawing them into a tight line and swallowing the rest of his tears. Now is not the time to fall apart, he has to keep moving. The Bracken could still be around now that the other left. Gloved fingers find a break in the pillar to grab onto and he slowly pulls himself to his feet. Peeking down was a mistake as he stares at the puddle left behind. Bile wells in his throat and he drags his gaze away. Taking an unsteady step to face the room the little crewmate scans again, hoping his pants light up or this'll take a bit.

Thankfully the scrap in his pocket gets pinged, a few meters to his right. Exhaling with a displeased sound he takes a few steps before having to stop and shiver, his insides sloshing uncomfortably. 

Fuck…it's not eggs..not eggs….

Repeating it too himself as he picks up the shredded pants Chip groans, he wants out. He needs to get out, today has been so rough and he's not going to be able to handle another encounter. Frustrated tears welled up and he punched the pillar with a snarl, “Damnit!”

Leaning against the column the man ignores the ache in his hand from the impulsive action. With no other choice he gets dressed, scowling at the sticky cum soaking against fabric. The uniform is completely destroyed, he can't stay in any longer now being so easy to track. If the Bracken finds him he's too beaten down to fight it off again. 

Would it kill him? 

.

.

.

Would he care?

Shaking his head Chip slaps his cheeks, stop that. With a dejected sigh he looks around for the faintest glow of light of a nearby hall. Killing the flashlight has put him at such a disadvantage. It's a gamble to walk so blindly but just getting to a wall he should be able to pick his way towards an exit. He came from the north so needs to head in any other direction. Cradling his injured arm he pushes off the pillar and limps through the gloom.

The lost crewmate hopes to be found by anyone other than a monster.

Chapter Text

Energy long since spent Chip moved slowly through the halls, listening for anything dangerous. He doesn't know where he is but the thought of staying in one place kept him moving. The sounds of the facility echo and groan, shuddering from deep within. Despite the constant noise one sound seems to stand above it all; the slow yet constant sound of dripping water slowly getting louder. 

That is unusual as steam leaks from the pipes, not liquid water. Growing closer to a lit crossway the sound doubles and grows with each step. The little crewmate looks down each path, unable to tell which way to go nor which one has the leak. The Bracken or Thumper could be anywhere so he waits to listen but nothing stands above the drip. Holding his arm he presses forward as it's best lit. The metal corridor yawns ahead of him before turning into a small maze. 

…Why are these places designed like this?

The slow rhythmic sound gets ever louder as he grows closer to a T junction. Peeking out and glancing into the impenetrable darkness to the right hands slowly materialize. They clap slowly in time with the dripping before taking over the sound as more of the figure walks out of the inky blackness. Chip flinches at first, completely frozen in place, seeing Captain in the gloom. The body moves closer, yellow suit fades to a familiar green with each stilted step. A mean, angry scowl carves across a blood soaked face…his own face. Wild eyes glare at him with hatred, “Look at what you've done to us, pathetic.”

Drip…

drip..

A sense of heavy unease settles in his chest, every nerve wanting to flee but he still can’t move. The vision is soaked in sticky half dried blood with sickly bruises around his throat and face. A state he hasn't been in for since Citrus joined but it still haunts him. His hand flares in phantom pain at the memory of shattering glass.

For a mirror of himself it stands with the same arrogance of Captain, the voice oscillating between himself and his superior. Chip leans against the wall, panting softly and groans as he grips his arm. Bones crack as it tilts its head, “It wouldn't be like this if you let me be in control.”

“…listening to you…has only brought pain…”

“Oh yes because us limping lost and bleeding is my fault. Instead of the coward who can't bite back.”

“Fighting..stronger…only causes problems.” He rolls to his back to rest against the wall as boots splashing in a building puddle. The voice mocks him, growling, “Where’s your pride? Our rage? Sucked into that apathetic black hole in our soul. We have a plan, fucking do it.”

Chip looks away, feet feeling too heavy to move despite the building panic, “It's not time for that..”

The lights flicker and the mirror jumps closer between each blackout. It morphs and twists like a mangled corpse. He cowers under his own self loathing towering over him, it dripping blood and water over his head, “Then when!? Do you re~ally trust that blue outsider?”

The man gives a low trepid sound, “C…Citrus does…”

The hallucination laughs cruelly, the sound curling like smoke around his ears, “We’ve really become such a worthless bitch, Unable to even trust our own judgement. You and your attachments, that's why he's on us again! Congratulations you worthless dog we get to endure his hands again…Can't do anything right.”

Chip can't find words to refute the overwhelming hatred boiling him alive, whimpering and backing away from the ghost of his past. The roiling rage follows his unsteady steps with the sound of rushing water, snarling, “How much longer are we going to choke on the abyss before giving in? Or are you beginning to enjoy it?”

His tongue finally unsticks and he quickly defends himself, “I..I don't. You know that–” “You actively welcomed that monster. Are you starting to want it?”

Tears well up, “N…No…I don't..it would hurt…we still have days and tears are awful.”

“Oh s~o practical, well genius,” Another flicker and the uncanny hallucination bears his own current wounds. Roaring rapids press against his head, the voice silencing everything as it whispers into his ear with a growl, “good job about handling that, bravo.”

Chip feels ill acknowledging his wounds and bites his trembling lip as revulsion wells up, “I'm trying…I c-can't control monsters…I-I'm a good–” “Employee? We're an asset, only good as long as you spread your legs.”

The man draws in on himself further, finding it harder to breathe. Water climbs higher and higher, can't swim. He’d rather deal with a laughing walkie than this nightmare. Why can't this voice shut up, he…he doesn't want this.. 

Dead eyes appear inches away from the watery abyss surrounding him. The milky orbs stare up at him, jolting him back against the wall, “Oh there’s no silencing  me~ I am you! I am how we feel. Small, weak and pathetic. Abused and abandoned constantly but stubbornly persevering. For what?!”

“I.. don't want him..to feel like this…” It comes out weakly, feeling choking darkness swirling around him. Pain and fear open a pit in his stomach and it's eating him alive. Turning away from the manic fury he grips his jacket tightly, fracturing under the pressure. He's been able to ignore and keep these feelings under control for so long. Why is it getting so out of hand now? 

“What did we do wrong?” The mirror wails, echoing his distress as it laces its hands around his neck. A wave comes barreling down the hall. Panic has him frozen as the blood soaked face gets closer, staring through him as the shadows press in. Faint sounds from somewhere behind him barely register as the wave threatens to consume him, Chip squeezing his eyes shut.

.

.

. 

Confusion has him blinking away tears and the vision is gone, no sign of water anywhere. The metal hallway is yawning into the darkness but not nearly as oppressive. Sudden rapid footsteps from behind has him tense up.

“Chip!”

_-_-_

“-after that Mendez was Mud-dez for two whole missions. Stars! Ward almost sent Fitz to Medical for it. Hahaaa, man…heh.” Brooks chuckles and sighs with a sense of bittersweetness. Citrus giggles like a fiend, “Man, reminds me when Rook slid through Flea guts after gettin’ spooked by a Puffer. Smelled like coop in summer, bleh. Captain sprayed him down with the hose before they were ever allowed on the ship. Sounded like a kicked yote. Guess the water isn’t that warm in the vacuum of space hehe!”

There’s genuine laughter at the memory but Brooks tilts his head, “When was that? Doesn’t seem like Rook ever goes inside.”

Citrus only laughs harder, “Yeah, that was back before Ratchet joined. It was just the four of us. If I remember right it wasn’t long before she came along…hm… was that before or after Chip tricked a Keeper into the water?”

Brooks blinked, “What?”

“Oh, Chip can be really on point when he’s actually like, not exhausted all the time. I swear he has a whole bestiary in his head and always manages to get us out of the worst jams. Granted some plans have been...” He trails off and rubs his visor with a forced groan. Brooks glances towards the little crewmate, “How exactly did a prickly critter like him get attached to a bubbly little thing like you? Feels like sun in a rainstorm.”

“Hah, he's always been prickly. Less so a few months back but eh, I wasn't so easily dissuaded. Been described before as a fun-gi, I'll just grow on ya! Plus we had similar upbringing so we kinda fell into stride. I feel like we're thick as thieves but,” The bravado ceases as shoulders fall, frustration clear through clenched fists, “he just…doesn’t talk.” He gets quieter and sighs, “Sometimes the job sucks you know? It’s nice not to feel quota bearing down on your head every mission but it still bites. ”

He huffs and lets his head fall to the side, hands resting on his hips. Blue nods and he ponders a bit, “Yeah, especially with an iron fist like Captain. Is that his nickname or…?” 

He gets a dramatic shrug, “No clue. Rook says his whole file is either scrubbed or redacted. I reckon it was somethin’, but not anymore. As a person I would never willingly choose to be in his presence and I despise how mean he is to Chip but he’s scary good as a boss.”

The larger man stops and has to shake his head, “Wait, what? Really?”

“Yeah! No no no, Brooks. Captain has the biggest tree up his ass, in fact it’s the whole orchard! He military folds his bunk! He’s on the top bunk and still does that! That is kicked mule behavior.” Hands flap as if he’s grabbing at the words he wants to say but they keep escaping him, “I can only imagine his sex life is unbearable.”

Brooks is about to say something but decides to let him go off, he just tapped into something that the other has been itching to dish. Citrus continues uninterrupted, “Does he even fuck? I mean, bless your heart if you think you’re slick jerkin’ it at night but imma light sleeper. Everyone has woken me up and I mean everyone, except him. Even Chip’s woken me up. Not with getting handsy. no. he’s got night terrors but it’s..weird and inconsistent. Rook is the worst, thinks he’s so smooth.”

Brooks flushes but mentally notes not to be sneaky, “Is it really that bad?”

Little orange spins on his heel and whistles a bit, “It’s the repeated sounds that wake me up. Bathroom runs or sleeplessness never keep me up long but trying to solo tango? Every time, I've gotten used to it. But Captain? Nothing, never has. I’m sure it must be so boring to fuck him. Must be vanilla, missionary stuff. Hah!”

“Sounds like he gets his rocks off being a jackass.” The other huffs, listening to the hallway behind him after hearing distant thumping. It doesn’t approach so he doesn’t worry about it for now. Citrus folds his arms behind his head and scoffs, “The man walks into facilities, disappears into a void and is the last man back every time. No idea what he does! Fishin’ in the dark? Comes back bloody but never his. Unhinged. Truly.” 

“The more I hear about him the more I can’t wrap my head around how he’s in charge…is he only in charge due to losing his crew?” Blue huffs, hoping the little talker might let something slip. Reflective glass glances back at him, “I reckon the Company wanted someone completely in their pocket. Although if you ask me…wouldn't be a bit surprised if he's the reason the crew was lost.”

A strange and uncomfortable feeling opens in the taller man’s chest, “Pardon?”

“I can't put my finger on it but he seems like the kind of guy that grew up in a place that would have had a lot of missing pet posters.”

The feeling only grows and Brooks trails behind the other as he chews on his thoughts. The smaller crewmate wanders further ahead to a junction and peers down the corridor, blinking and muttering, “Am I seeing right?”

Citrus can see something or someone down the hall in the dim light. Completely forgetting about Brooks he quietly sneaks forward to see if it's a monster or not. It's too small and too still to be most monsters.

Wait. 

Recognition has him light up.

“Chip!” Citrus gasps at the familiar figure, not believing it's him at first but there's no Masked here so he dashes towards him. Green barely has time to turn around before he is outright tackled by the speeding body. Arms lock around him and the two fall to the floor, Chip hissing in pain but not resisting his touch.

“Thank the stars! I didn't think we'd find you!” Orange breathes and presses his head against his chest, sighing in relief. Leaning back to actually get a look at the other he flinches, “You look like ten miles of bad road.”

That was being nice, he looked like he stumbled out of a Dog’s mouth. He's covered in.. something that Citrus isn't ready to identify. His uniform is shredded and is even missing a glove, “You're bleeding.”

Chip just leans forward and wraps his arms around his shoulders, resting his head against the side of his neck silently. He doesn't make a sound or move which tells the shorter man what he went through was bad. Real bad.

“Hey, it's ok. We got you, ya ain't alone. Honestly can't believe you ran off like that, alone! Did you forget what going off on your own does? What a mess…” He lays his helmet against his left shoulder which makes the other shift. The small man is confused as he isn't even close to touching the wound, “What's wrong?”

“I'm…dirty..” His words are flat and whispered as if he just remembered the state he's in. When green tries to untangle himself from the human velcro Citrus merely taps his helmet to his with a soft clink, “I don't care, stop that and just breathe.”

Chip stops moving and sinks into the embrace, eyes barely visible behind the visor don’t look at him. Green grumbles at orange as he undoes his helmet, not fighting him removing it. Hair sticks to his face from sweat, tear streaks mark his face that the other says nothing about. Instead he examines the helmet, noting new teeth marks. How he could see out of the slimy glass is beyond Citrus as he taps his nose, “Why’d you run?”

“I…I didn't want to go with Captain..” Words are slowly pulled from him, something that is unusual but with the fact he isn't letting go means he must speak. It would be a lie if Citrus said he wasn't glad to hear his voice. However the little spitfire is still upset at him, flicking his forehead. The other flinches with a tiny sound, “Idiot he isn't going to let you pull that again but you didn't think about that, huh? What did he do that made you that reckless?”

Eyes meet his before flicking away, he doesn't want to tell the truth. Brooks' expressed disdain at the yellow man becomes a lot more understandable. An uncomfortable expression flashes across his face for just a moment before looking down, “Nothing he hasn't done already..”

Citrus lets his head fall to the side and has to suppress a frustrated snarl, why won’t he let him in? He doesn't know what has happened since Chip keeps brushing off his concern every time. Anger flares in the man's mind, wanting to grab the other by the shoulders and demand an answer, the truth damnit. But it fades at feeling his friend hide against his chest. 

Something clicks suddenly in his mind, Chip hasn't let go this entire time.

He’s drenched in sweat, shaking and obviously had an awful encounter yet he is desperate for connection. Something Chip had rejected after Rend and the man had to drag himself back to the ship then. Being alone must have really torn him apart. Tossing his head back, Citrus calls out, “Brooks imma need your help here!”

Said man makes himself known by clearing his throat as he sheepishly rounds the corner. Green tenses up, head snapping up in visible distrust. Conflicting instincts keep Chip stock still as his hands release and grab onto the smallest crewmate's suit repeatedly. Before there's a total system shut down Citrus pipes up, “No, no. He's cool, it's alright. We've talked. He's just a softie, promise.”

Shoulders relax but being so close he can hear an uncertain note in the other's throat. Using his distraction to his advantage Citrus prods at the injury, getting a low whine from the other’s discomfort. The wounds he can see are cleanish but they still need attention, “These ain't fresh, you've been wandering a while now. Why didn't you call out?”

“...Not working…” Chip mutters and leans away from Brooks with uncertainty as blue kneels near them. Orange rolls his eyes, he ain't going to hurt you. Has the biggest bleeding heart I've ever seen.

He blinks and frowns …That…was a mean thought…

Examining the bite with concern, his idle hand rests at his friend’s side. When his thumb catches in the clean slash in the uniform, Citrus leans back to get a better look. What did he get caught by? Unable to easily look at the cuts he reaches up to unzip Chip’s jacket. Quick hands push his away with a disgruntled sound. That he isn’t going to put up with right now, lips thinning as he speaks curtly, “I need to see them. I doubt Captain will call the mission so I need to get them cleaned at least. Brooks, shake the dust off your hands and help.”

Chip digs his nails into Citrus' arms as his attention moves to the stronger man. Brooks wasn't ready to be put on the spot, “Hey I think that might not be a good idea.”

Orange curls his lip and snaps, “Again! These. need. cleaned! I'm the only one with medical knowhow so just listen to me! Infection here is dangerous, hold him.” 

Both shrink back but Brooks moves first, which makes the other respond with distrust. Seeing green so stressed was not something Brooks wanted but he had to assist, Citrus is right. The bastard isn't going to leave Vow because of ‘minor’ injuries. Chip bristles and growls at him, not wanting to be handled. Citrus tugs on his ear a little, grabbing his attention, “Hey, you are in a horn-tossing mood and I ain’t fightin’ you. I only got the basics so it’s going to hurt. Bracken teeth leave clean wounds, human teeth don’t. I ain’t gettin’ bit by you. He’ll hold your hands and I got somethin’ for you to actually bite on.”

Blue can see Chip chew on his lip listening to the other speak so confidently. He looks so guilty over the bite comment before nodding reluctantly. Citrus waves him closer as he unbuckles his hip bag, “Don’t hold his wrists, just his hands. And you’ll have to hold him still, ain’t gettin’ elbowed either.”

The matter of fact instructions leads Brooks to ask before he can help it, “You’ve done this before?” 

The smallest doesn’t even react even though Chip stares at him, “Yeah, this is typical. On the ship there’s other factors but this song and dance is when we ain’t watched. Sit there,” He points to the left of them while asking Chip to undo his gear. Green is slow to release the smaller man but he does as asked, the tanks clinking against the floor. Brooks moves them back once the straps are loose. Being so close he notices a few scars peeking out from under Chip’s torn uniform. Orange asks for him to take his jacket off and there’s a distressed whine from the other.

“He’s going to see them, it’s ok. Please trust my judgement, he’s safe I promise.” Citrus stresses his words while green makes a face. When Citrus points out that he’s been comfortable enough to have him essentially in his lap in front of Brooks, Chip pauses in realization. His ears go pink as he looks away, signing that he wasn’t thinking. Orange and blue can’t help but chuckle softly which has him making a low throaty whine. As he takes his jacket off Brooks is thankful he has his helmet on, eyes widening in horror seeing just how many scars litter the freckled skin. Bite scars of various ages cover each shoulder, the newest bite looking odd being on his lower arm. It takes every ounce of self control not to say a damn word as this seems to be a massive insecurity of Chip’s.

“Looks fairly debris free. Now here, I reckon this won’t hurt your teeth to bite into this. Just sit it behind your front teeth.” Citrus offers a folded bit of leather, Chip frowns, “What, it’s this or a glove and you’ve bitten through those before. Work with me darlin.”

Green makes a face with flushed cheeks but takes the offered object, whining when Citrus untangles himself from his lap. Sitting there on his own Brooks can only see a displeased cat. Said cat glanced at him for a moment before settling into staring at the middle distance. Orange busies himself with setting up a few things, disinfectant and bandages mostly. Blue is impressed with how practiced Citrus is with being the medic of the group. Ratchet also appears to have a background in it but he wonders if the little crewmate taught her. Orange pours some quick clean over his gloves and wipes down, “Hold him please.”

Chip flicks his eyes towards Brooks before biting into the leather. Citrus instructs his friend to pin his right arm under his left so he has less ability to hit him. Tiny protests come from Green but he listens, locking his arm in place before blue takes his hands. Getting a good look at his right hand Brooks can’t help but notice how there’s blood dried under each nail yet his arm is fairly blood free. Thoughts brew in his mind as he watches with mild concern as orange dips a swab into a disinfectant, “Remember to breathe, this will hurt.”

A flash of panic alights in green eyes before he grips onto Brooks’ hands and growls out in pain, flinching away but not able to get far. He is trying to keep still, but writhes with a snarl at the other. Citrus gives him a head tilt but says nothing as he keeps working, humming softly. After needing to stop to pull shredded fabric from a wound Brooks can see how uncomfortable Chip is, “Hey, you’re doing a good job. I’m sure it hurts like hell but you’re being very patient.”

His words drew the other’s attention, eyes wide and the only sign he heard him properly was flushed ears. Suddenly doubting how his words would be taken he stumbles a little, “I’m not mocking you or trying to take the piss. I’m a baby with this kind of pain and you’re doing really well with it. Very brave.”

Chip gets much redder, jumping when Citrus continues with a snort. Looking between them with both confusion and embarrassment he lets his head fall so they can’t get a good look at his face. However he can’t hide his pink ears. The distraction was quite successful as their medic is able to get his wounds disinfected without much more resistance. Citrus is pleased that he was able to get it done quickly, giving him a little praise as well. Brooks takes the leather from him and Chip rubs his jaw, he bit the hell out of it. Blue is now very aware of his teeth impression and he can understand why the smallest didn’t want to risk a bite. 

Taking a moment to check in with green he pulls out a small towel from his pack to clean his face. Chip wasn’t paying much attention but tenses up a bit feeling him touch his face, looking at him but doesn’t move. Brooks gently cups his face and wipes away the cold sweat, watching his eyes close and just lets him clean his face. He wants to say so many things but merely seeing his little crewmate resting in his grasp had his heart fluttering. So cute…damnit.

Citrus works with a smoothness as he wraps the cleaned wounds. The silence was comfortable and Brooks catches the smallest sneaking peeks at him, eyes lit by his visor. Chip must have relaxed too much as his breathing begins to deepen, is he crashing? 

“Don’t fall asleep on us, I know you’re tired but it ain’t quite safe yet.” Brooks breathes, watching bleary eyes open and blink slowly. Citrus tsks and glances down, tilting his head, “Are you injured down here?”

Green makes an uncomfortable sound, pulling away from them, “I-It’s ok, I..I’m fine…” 

His words are slurred from exhaustion but that means he can’t put up much fight. Brooks tries to wave off Citrus but he’s caught sight of blood and any attempts to talk him down are completely thrown out the window. Now needing to soothe his little crewmate so the other could do his job Blue decides to remove his helmet so he can focus on a face, “Hey look at me, it’s alright.”

Chip snaps his head towards him and starts to panic, signing shakily and pushing his helmet back into his hands. Words don’t come forth as he tries to nonverbally convince him to put it back on. Brooks just calmly holds his hands, “If you’re fine, I’m fine.”

The little crewmate's head falls to the side, eyes pleading. When there’s no movement he sighs through his nose, letting his hands fall to his lap. A dusting of heat crawls up blue’s collar but it’s easy enough to ignore as he places the helmet aside. Shifting his gaze back to the two he is not ready for Chip to be staring at him, scrutinizing his face. Orange prods his side, breaking the staring contest, “You don’t need to stand but you can’t stay seated, up up.”

Green makes distressed sounds, head flicking back and forth. With how red he’s getting Brooks remembers Citrus making an offhand comment about Chip's discomfort around his body. Blue shifts and kneels, prompting him to follow suit. The stressed cat hesitates but slowly raises onto his knees, gripping onto his jacket, “D-Don’t look…please.”

His words rip at blue's heart but he rests his chin on the top of his head and looks away as requested, “I won’t.”

Citrus doesn’t say anything as he sets about getting to work, “I’m going to touch you now.”

There’s a throat deep whimper and hands grip onto Brooks tightly. His belt clicks and blue can feel just how rigid the other goes, petting his head in effort to keep him calm, “Sssh, it’s ok. You are safe, we aren’t going to hurt you. You’re being very very brave, can you breathe for me? In….out, nice and slow.”

Chip is a shaking mess, groaning and holding onto him but he takes shaky breaths as instructed. Orange sneaks the towel Brooks placed aside and Chip jumps against him.

“Cleaning the area, it ain’t deep but it’s long. Take a deep breath because this’ll sting like hell.” He mutters and after a moment Chip sucks in a deep breath and bites onto Brooks’ shoulder. Pain shocks blue but he manages to remain quiet to not startle the two, breathing out a low ‘yeowch’. It’ll probably leave a mark but that’s not something he should focus on. Rubbing his cheek against his hair to comfort him, “You’re doing good, it'll be over soon.”

“Ok, all clean. I’m going to bandage it, I can’t wrap it so I’ll have to use tape. It shouldn’t need to be covered by tomorrow. Or I suppose tonight.” Citrus says as the sharp sound of tape has the trembling form hold onto Brooks tighter. Resisting the urge to look, Brooks moves his head to press against the side of his neck. Being this close he feels his heart racing like before. Having to redirect his thoughts elsewhere he finds himself pressing his lips against his shoulder. The larger man can’t tell if Chip notices but he feels him slowly relaxing under his touch. His little crewmate suddenly pulls his head back, releasing Brooks from his bite. A dull throb has blue grimace as blood returns to the bitten skin. Neither says anything as Citrus fixes his clothes and sits back. He doesn’t mention what he saw, simply rubbing Chip’s back, “How’s your back? Can I see?”

Green glances over his shoulder, Brooks catching how red his neck and ears are. Chip signs something at Citrus and squeaks in embarrassment. Blue can’t help but note that he made the sound when a gloved hand rested against his side. Citrus sucks at his teeth, “Oooof, you fell huh? It won’t bruise much, what happened?”

“I…I uh, missed a Flea.”

Citrus examines his sides, tracing the faint cuts but must decide they’re not a risk. He then rests his chin lightly against the other shoulder, “You managed to escape by yourself? Impressive.”

Green was getting very red with how close the two are, stammering and releasing Brooks to sink onto his calves. He fidgets and shakily signs, “Space please.”

Brooks takes a knee step back and sits down, watching orange doing similar but still much closer. Chip gives him a look that’s mixed with displeasure at him half listening but still wanting connection. Citrus tilts his head back in thought, a hand starting to tap out a rhythm as he hums. Chip gets stiff and turns towards him, trying to make him stop until orange is giggling.

“Humming ain't singing silly.” He says around Chip’s hands, head tilted back. Crossing his arms with a little humming and hawing he finally says, “Maybe we should head back, don’t know what else for us to do and you’re tired. We got that Spider, could try a Dog or Keeper.”

Green drops his hands and huffs, looking back towards Brooks with a look of ‘help’. Blue shrugs, “Hey, save some energy for the rest of the universe. Let’s get back before agreeing on harassing the wildlife.”

Brooks stands and helps Chip up, heart fluttering feeling him lean into him. Citrus double checks that he didn’t miss an injury. Green waves him off, signing at him to leave him be. Orange scoffs, “I’m the only one between us making sure you don’t die stupidly. Goodness if I care about you.”

His tone is joking but firm as he cleans up the supplies, letting Brooks have a moment to lean in and whisper, “How do you handle him?”

Instead of anger like earlier Chip signs, “ Handle? He’s like trying to put a leash on an Eyeless Dog, you’re going wherever he drags you off too. It’s easier to just follow along.”

There’s the faintest smile on his face, something that Brooks holds onto, “Yeah feels like trying to tell the wind to change. Wasn’t expecting him to be so relaxed in there, kind of reassuring.”

“More like concerning…”

“Oh?”

Chip doesn’t expand on his comment, eyes lidded and blinking slowly. He looks dead on his feet but is trying not to show it. Brooks gets his tanks and helps him get strapped in, cleaning the visor with the towel so he can see better. He can see Chip avoiding looking at him once the glass is clean.

“Alright let’s go back.”

Chapter Text

Near silence hung over the group as they made their way back, the smallest humming to himself. Brooks swears he knows the song but without words it's lost to him. Citrus is not afraid to lead with him following behind, retracing their path while their injured crewmate keeps falling behind. No matter how often he tries to be the one bringing up the rear Chip gets agitated. Blue's attempts are quickly dropped in favor of keeping tabs on him. This behavior was the same on Gordion so he chalks it up to a preference. However, his little crewmate is consistently lagging behind the much faster orange clad man. Brooks resolves to reel in the little spitfire whenever he gets too far ahead with lighthearted teases. It takes about three small pokes before it sinks in just how slow their injured third is, Citrus dropping back with concern, “Hey? You doin’ alright? Need a minute?”

Chip shakes his head, “No, just…just want out. I'm fine.”

His hand falls a bit limp but pushes past them both when they try to stop, reiterating his statement. Orange glances towards blue and shrugs, if he won’t stop they can’t make him. Well they could but it's best not to.

Seeing the exit never felt so good after facing death like Chip had today. There's a small pile of scrap that the two pick up while he leans against the wall, feeling a little lightheaded. Brooks holds the door open with a nod of the head, finally getting Chip to go ahead of him even for a moment. Once outside orange pipes up as he turns his inner wrist up to read his watch, “It’s nearly five so there'll be movement soon. If we do this now, then I’m sure Captain’ll go easy for tomorrow.”

He looks back to his friend to get his input. A displeased grumble comes from Chip as he rubs his neck, “I’m no use in this condition.”

“Nonsense! You know terrain best and Rook can get his ass out of the ship to help.” There’s a chuckle in his voice as he turns away to radio out, Chip shakes his head a little and rubs the front of his helmet with a sigh. Rather do this safely now than recklessly later…

“Hey~ there Rook, stop stalking Ratchet and give us a hand with a dog.”

There's a pause before Rook's unamused voice filters through, “Is this a call for a Dog or a dog because I can only help with one of those?”

“Cheeky. The blind kind. Chip’s hurt and this type of thang is best with three.”

The walkie is quiet for a minute before crackling back to life, “Alright, radio me when you got a spot so I can follow the coordinates.”

Citrus spins on his heel and tilts his helmet towards Chip whose shoulders drop with a low sigh, “Fine.”

The smallest claps and stretches dramatically with a pleased hum. Bracing his arms against his knees to ease the ache in his…everywhere, Chip breathes through his nose. This won't go poorly…not like before..

Taking the lead green walks across the bridge without looking to see if the other two are following him. Unlike inside the facility his sense of direction outside is far more reliable and sharp. Trudging up the hill silently he stops and scans the ridge, nothing immediately tipping him off to paths the Dogs might walk. With the other two lingering back, Chip gets to about halfway back to the ship before something catches his attention. 

In the brush there's a barely noticeable trail treading through the foliage. Tilting his head back and forth a little, he can see it crest the ridge out of sight. It's too narrow to be any sort of path for Keepers and leads through denser trees so not made by Hawks either. Kneeling down and examining tracks and how the area is disturbed, the green clad man can tell it's a game trail from at least one Dog. He can't parse out if this is a lone monster or possibly a small pack but it's a start.

Rubbing his arm he heads along the trail, glancing back to acknowledge his crewmates. Following the bend of the hill for a few dozen meters Chip stops at a rocky outcropping. It's slightly off the path and not something the Dogs would traverse normally as the walls were too high to merely climb if turned around for said beasts. Judging by erosion it may have been a stream bed or rain runoff but is long dried up and overgrown. The exposed rocks and roots should be stable with this much growth but he is never too careful, tugging at a few spots with his gloved hand and is satisfied when nothing gives. Rook should be able to use these just fine. Walking from one end to the other green sets about marking out where it'll be safe to step. He can feel eyes on him and glances over his shoulder towards Brooks and Citrus, “I think this'll work. I'll need your packs, leaves and some sticks.”

Orange passes his pack to Brooks and disappears into the bushes while radioing out to Rook. Much too focused, Chip ignores his discomfort being alone with blue again. Near silent crunches come close as he sets up some vials in a trap, “Why'd you agree to this? You look dead tired.”

Chip stares up at the reflected glass, making a face at his rough state but just takes the offered packs. It's quiet for a moment as he fashions another trap while thinking about what to say. For once the answer comes easily, “If I don't do it correctly now, he'll try later and possibly get hurt again. I’ll do this if it prevents that… Dogs don't have a large population on Vow with Keepers and Worms adding predatory pressure. They're the first to move when evening falls before much else does, so now is the best time.”

He gathers a few stones and tosses them up to the high point on the outcropping. Brooks just follows him up, observing silently. Chip stacks the rocks into two piles, one less stable than the other, “You need someone fast as they're sturdy and throw their whole weight at you. But they're easier to handle than Keepers with being blind, however you need at least a third keeping watch.”

Placing his exposed hand against a root he frowns. There's a deep vibration he can just barely feel. Glancing at the unstable rock pile before scanning the surrounding area, Chip concludes whatever is moving isn't on the surface. A Leviathan must be in the area but not close, “If this is done right there shouldn't be any problems…”

Brooks is a bit lost but his little cat seems far more in his element than inside the facility. It's almost night and day. Before he can ask anything Citrus returns with Rook in tow. Chip goes to take the materials gathered. Purple shifts his stance, body language showing some jitters. They glance back in the direction of the ship, “The computer was picking up vibrations.” 

“Yeah, there's a Worm but I think it's in the valley, so it's not close. I have a stack that'll fall over if it gets closer.” He turns towards Citrus, “That means no dicking around with the Dog.” 

Chip's tone is hard and leaves no room to argue so he receives in unison nods. Rook’s head follows green as the temporary leader walks away to place the sticks down. Brooks isn't close enough to hear but watches him snap towards orange and gesture with a head tilt. 

Soon everything is ready, vials hidden just off the safe path and set up in a way that the monster should step on at least two or three traps. Blue now understands why he had mapped out the safe path as it's difficult to tell where some groupings are. Rook stretches and scopes out the rocky walls, feeling where he'd want to grab onto places. With the plan set, Citrus calls out the time and Chip points in the direction he should shout. 

“If there’s any more than a single Dog we are not doing this. Too much movement and the Worm will be on us faster than a Spring-head…” Chip tries to stress to the two who even Brooks can tell from his spot above the gully that they’re not worried. Citrus taps his arm, “Relax. We got this!”

All heads jerk up as a flock of Coils in the trees call out loudly. Orange waves him off quickly, signing quickly, “Go go…” 

Brooks has to turn away to keep his eyes on the forest, he peeks a few times when Citrus shouts pointedly into the direction instructed. More calls come from the critters in the trees when a roar echoes from somewhere over the ridge. 

Slow, heavy steps get closer which has nervousness claw up his back and has blue give in to see what got drawn in. A single Dog crests the trail and pauses, sniffing the air and growling. Fight or flight grip his core but Chip waves to get his attention while signing, “Breathe.”

He blinks and realizes how poised to run he was, exhaling a breath caught in his chest. Brooks shakily and messily signs an apology, squeezing his hands into fists to ease the panic in his limbs. Once he reconfirms he is in fact calmer, Chip's head turns back to the two matadors. Blue catches him glancing back for a moment before he himself also refocuses on keeping watch.

On green's signal, Rook baits the Dog into the passage while Citrus presses against the wall to avoid the monster that towers over him. Purple continues to make just enough noise to keep luring the entity into the gully, ducking back as it snarls in pain. Chip palms a rock in his gloved hand, watching pensively for the moment he must distract. The entity swings its head from side to side when it again growls and lunges blindly forward. Rook back hops away and uses roots to clear gnashing teeth.

Citrus whistles sharply and the beast stops, head lifting and sniffing. Another loud sound from the smallest crewmate and the Dog attempts to turn around, but its hindquarters bump into rocks. The monster strikes out and shifts the other way, roaring and snapping its teeth. Purple takes the opportunity to run close, rolling away from slashing claws while laughing at the monster. They hop up onto the wall and kick off when the beast charges in his direction. The impact seems to stun it enough for the energetic runner to get out of reach once again.

The thrashing stomps have Chip concerned, checking for signs of the Leviathan but for now nothing changes... yet. He should have said no, this could go so bad so fast. Shaking his doubts and the images of his friend's injuries from his mind, he checks their surroundings quickly. The fourth crewmate is focused on the forest, head scanning steadily, which is reassuring. Citrus hollers at the Dog, throwing a rock at it to get its attention, “Come on ya big brute! Back this way!”

A chuffing roar reverberates out with the monster attempting to stand on its hind legs to turn around. Brooks had to admit their confidence in handling something entirely capable of killing one of them has him speechless. It's been a year for two of them…i…is this just routine to them? He spares a few glances when he hears Chip shifting or mumbling inaudibly. So far he hasn't seen any signs of Keepers or any new alarm calls from the Manticoils. Yet something is making his little crewmate uneasy, spying on him pulling at the tears in his jacket.

Chip frowned from his crouched position. The vibrations were getting closer. Not a concern yet as the rock pile isn’t even remotely rattling, but thoughts of mistakes have him breathing harder. He’s in no condition to intervene but, with their fastest crewmate here he tries to talk himself out of spiraling. He can’t let himself lose focus. This is not unfamiliar, but he doesn’t enjoy having such a deadly creature nearby.

The Dog manages to turn around towards Citrus and rushes at the smallest with its tongue lolling. It suddenly snarls and snaps at its feet, stopping mid charge and slashing the air. With it distracted, the little cowboy gets some space between them. To prevent the monster from possibly destroying samples, green chucks a rock at the opposite side of the Dog. It stops attacking and snaps towards the sound, growling and sniffing the stone. Another rock bounces off its hide and the large maw lifts towards the injured man. Chip chews at his inner cheek, pulling his arm closer to himself.

It snarls and stands against the rocks, searching for a way to get out. Their track all star runs in and slams into the Dog, successfully knocking it off balance and scampering away before it can react. They're giggling like a madman watching the monster flounder to get back onto its feet. As the beast stands up several vials hang from its flank, full of blood and soon shaken free when it shrieks in Rook's direction. Said man merely motions for it to come at him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Chip rests his palm to the ground. The slowly growing tremors have ceased with that encounter, which has him confused. That's not normal… He shifts and glances around warily. It's going correctly but something doesn't feel right. He tenses a little when Brooks breathes, “Is it just me or did it suddenly get really quiet?”

Sitting up more and throwing his attention more around them, Chip feels cold dread settling against his spine. It is quiet…not a single call or rustle as if the wild itself is holding its breath. His head whips around, searching for any movement in the trees from the nearby Manticoils. There's nothing.

Citrus calls out to pull the Dog's attention from Rook who had hauled themself halfway out of the gully to avoid a toothy lunge. The beast snarls and attempts to turn around but gets wedged between the two rock walls once more. It roars and thrashes, claws raking deeply into the clay packed rocks. Rook has to pull himself further away to avoid getting caught by the wild strikes. 

Brooks turns around with a jolt at the sudden commotion, “Rook, you ok!?”

“Y-yeah- shit!” He pushes off the wall as massive jaws swing their way. Using the moment of confusion to his advantage, purple scrambles up the other wall. Chip tries not to get distracted but the sound of rocks tumbling has him tense; the pile fell over.

Oh no!

He presses his hand flat against the ground, tremors are rapidly growing. It's getting closer! The words fall out before his brain confirms his fears, “Worm! Get out!”

Time seems to slow around them as the ground audibly rumbles. Rook kicks himself out of the hole and reacts faster than anyone else, racing forward and jumping back inside for Citrus. He collides with the smallest and the two fall away from the angry beast. Chip jumps up as the ground shakes violently, dirt up heaving under the Dog. Everything bursts forth as the Worm breaches the surface with a hauntingly loud roar. An arm wraps around green’s chest and pulls him back while dirt and rock shower down from the massive entity. Blue manages to get them both away as large rocks land heavily where they were just standing. Once the shock leaves his body Chip shoves Brooks away and runs over the edge, “Citrus! Rook!”

Scanning the mess that was the gully movement draws him in. Before dread has him jumping in, dirt rolls away as Rook pops up and looks around. Citrus soon follows and shakes the grass off himself. Purple starts laughing and holding their helmet while Citrus gives a thumbs up. Chip crumbles into a ball and heaves a shaky exhale, that almost went to hell. He jolts back as something lands wetly near him, a mangled limb from the Dog splats against the roots. Needing a minute green doesn't respond to Brooks’ concern or questions.

The two dirt covered crewmates unbury themselves and carefully search for the traps. Brooks can't help but watch the Leviathan sailing through the air, jaw slack and stunned no one was killed. Well, he glances at the bloody mess, no human was killed.

“We found filled vials!” Citrus calls out like they didn't just have a near death experience. Finally unable to see the Worm over the trees, blue looks down at the two holding several vials full of purplish red liquid. Everything violently shudders from the monster finally touching down however far away it had landed. Silence falls for a few heartbeats but is soon broken by Rook's walkie, “The fuck was that? Rook! What the fuck was that?!”

Chip gets to his feet, surveying the carnage left behind as Rook has to talk to a mildly panicking Ratchet. It wasn't a clean stunt, but successful and no human got hurt. He nudges the mangled limb for a moment before his legs start to robotically carry him towards the ship. His departure must have gone unnoticed as the others’ chatter falls away to just the sounds of the wilds. Seeing the cold grey metal ship has his insides squirm, it's a relief but also a sign that he'll have to deal with consequences soon. 

Gingerly climbing the stairs he dumps his gear in a heap without much care before limping to the back. Alone and in relative safety Chip finds himself sinking to the floor. He throws his helmet off and tosses his remaining glove before curling up on his mostly uninjured side. Dull green eyes wander up to stare unobstructed at the monotonous ceiling. Running a hand through his hair he just humming softly to ease his queasiness. Today was awful. Tomorrow will probably not be much better. Will Captain want to keep him close? He'll be angry about everything.

Growling, the little crewmate rubs his face and blinks away frustrated tears, he wants to be swallowed up by the floor and disappear. Maybe not forever but long enough not to be reminded of what happened to him every time he moves. The cool metal doesn't let him relax enough to pass out, he still has to do…that. Exhaling through his nose he begs silently for a few more moments to not have to think. To plan. To fear. To pretend…

His fragile peace is broken when he hears Citrus in the distance and slowly pulls himself off the floor. Sitting and closing his eyes for a heartbeat longer, rubbing his face with a deep sigh. He gets to his feet at the sound of the three stepping inside, heading to the bathroom before being seen. 

Chapter Text

“That was terrifying. Never messing with wildlife with you again!”, Brooks exclaims loudly when he's finally on the ship. His tone has Rook giggling mischievously, kicking dirt out of their cleats against the railing. Citrus tilts his head towards the sky, “Eh, the Worm was the scary part. Dogs are easy, Chip had it figured out.”

“You rely on him a lot.” Blue huffs while heading towards the containment box with the collected samples. The smallest shrugs and nods, “Last time I nearly had my walking privileges revoked. He knows that kind of stuff best. I just want an easy day for us tomorrow.”

Purple maneuvers past them, stripping back his jacket and gloves, to not get dirt on their precious terminal. Light on his feet, he crosses the floor in a few strides and starts checking on the two remaining inside the facility. Brooks drops off the vials before heading to the back, calling Chip’s name. Little orange watches him go and shrugs out of his gear, unzipping his jacket, “Rook, are the other two heading back?”

The camera is clearly Ratchet's, who is sorting through a scrap pile. Being so close the observant crewmate notes red rope peeking out from under their shirt collar. Oh? What did they get up to? Purple casually glances over and gives a subtle doubletake, clearly getting a bit flustered seeing him unzipped, “N…no. Captain’s still in blackout. No clue what’s going on with him.”

“Good, you look good by the way~” He teases while heading back, hearing a shaky sigh trail after him. Switching gears, he ponders his next steps in treating Chip. Hanging up his dusty jacket on a coat hook, orange knows the first thing's getting what he needs. Brooks is fidgeting and looking lost while standing at his bunk, “He's in the bathroom but not answering.”

Brown eyes watch the little crewmate hops up to his bunk. He fishes out his med stash and a powder stick, “Hey, I need a hand prepping what needs done to finish Chip’s treatment. Can you get a ration and mix this in a water? Make sure it’s unopened first.”

The taller man nearly misses catching the stick when he tosses it, “Huh? Why not you?”

“Oh? I got doctor duty,” Orange huffs while kicking off his boots, “sorry but I doubt he’d let you help him.”

Brooks' mouth opens for a moment before he nods in agreement. Striding to the bathroom door, Citrus knocks firmly, “Hey Chip~ Can I come in?”

Silent discomfort just pours out from behind the locked door. Seems about right . Citrus waits, shooing Brooks off and repeating his instructions. The man stammers a bit before deciding to listen to doctor's orders. Thank the stars he listens with only a little pushback. Now if only the other two would, “No one else is back here and you can’t shower by your lonesome with that arm.”

Another minute passes before the lock is turned, Chip opening up with a deeply embarrassed expression. “.. You're right. ..”

Citrus steps inside and closes the door behind him, locking it. Chip holds his shoulder and keeps some distance between them. His pants are abandoned in the corner nearest the door, his right hand fidgeting at the hem of his underwear. Heat creeps across the smaller man’s upper chest but he exhales, I can ignore it. His friend doesn’t meet his gaze as blue eyes flick over towards the sink. Vials are half pulled from the pack, some look filled with… oh ..

Don't dwell on it.

“You ok? Here let’s get you undressed. I think the kit in here has shears.” He murmurs while Chip stares at a very interesting rust spot on the wall. Sure enough he finds a pair of trauma shears and discusses where he'll be cutting. Green reluctantly holds his arms out to make his doctor's job easier.

Neither say anything while Citrus cuts the tattered remains of his uniform away so as to not agitate his wounds. Unzipping the green jacket he cuts at the remains of the shoulder before the rest is simply removed. Snipping the tank straps before cutting up his back, Chip is left standing in just his briefs. “Take those off whenever you’re comfortable enough. It shouldn’t bug your leg.”

Silently assessing if he had missed anything while in the facility, Citrus refrains from touching him. He instead asks his patient to move so he can check. In the light he can see discoloration and bruising that doesn’t line up with just one encounter. He decides to say nothing, not even sighing with resignation. He looks so tired. Falling more into his role orange hums, “I’ll use medication that’ll help this heal faster but you’ll have to eat somethin’, so it don’t cause more harm. And you will eat, none of that yes, but no nonsense. I’m going to use the inhalant because your body can’t handle the injectable. Keeping yourself like this makes my job harder.”

Chip is quiet, eyes lidded from pain and fatigue. Don't fall asleep on me yet. Citrus kicks the scraps of fabric into a corner, back to his friend. Green shifts with a low sound in his chest, “I..I’m sorry…that you have to help me.”

A hand appears near his mouth as the little firecracker whirls back around, causing the taller man to flinch. Stern blue eyes squint at him, “None of that. You are my patient right now so shush. It’s not like you're comfortable with anyone else helping you in this state. Plus I get a shower, win win.”

Shoulders drop with a frustrated exhale but there’s no protest. Humming to himself, Citrus undresses while turning on the water. Chip doesn’t stare. He never does, instead his gaze drifts towards the door. Orange shakes the water from his hand, “I’ll get in first so you can figure whatever is bouncing around in that head of yours.”

The water is warm and so refreshing after a laborious day. Humming softly he sets about making sure he's clean before Chip follows after him. Tapping out a rhythm on the tile Citrus scrubs away the sweat. I should be fine, I got off before Offense so I won't be affected much. He doesn't seem egg bound though…how did he get away?

Rinsing his hair he pauses in thought, straight clean cuts…was it a Barber? I didn't know those can hoedown so aggressively. They ain’t for me. Hm. It didn't leave behind too much damage like the Bracken did. A Barber…we're up to date on the shots. At least I know Chip is, Rook? Not as sure. Ratchet probably makes sure with them doing scrap runs. 

Lost in his thoughts he almost misses the glass sliding back. He's quick to reach up and pull the shower head off the wall, “Hang on, don't want to get those too wet.”

Chip pauses for a moment, waiting for the water to not pose an issue. Once clear he steps in, closed off but too tired to feel much shame. Citrus is rather desensitized to seeing him so there's little tension.

“I hope you take tomorrow easy, you don't look real good..” Citrus sighs and prompts him to lift his arm. Green obeys silently and makes a face as he's sprayed down. Starting at his head orange works down, having him move this way and that to get everything.

“Do you want to talk about it? Even just a little, you're pretty rattled right now.” Orange hopes he'll speak but isn't going to hold his breath. There's a low sound in his friend's throat as he licks the back of his teeth and looks at the door. He finally mumbles, “I…I had a paranoid episode.”

Citrus nods while washing his hair, watching the other eyes roll back under his gentle scratching. They slide closed and he leans ever so slightly into his touch, “Yeah, being with yourself can be worse than monsters. It's been a few missions since you've gone off alone, slipped your mind?”

Scooping his hair back out of his face, orange enjoys his favorite few freckles on Chip’s face. He likes the spots that look like pairs. Green eyes glance at him inquisitively when he's caught grinning at them, “Sorry just enjoying my favorite speckles of yours. These two spots above your eye here? Adorable.”

He only gets an unamused sigh but the pale ears are tinted pink, “Other things were on my mind then…”

“So Captain did yell at you yesterday…” Citrus whispers, watching lidded eyes widen momentarily. Chip straightens up with hands fisted and nervously rubs his thumb against his knuckles. Neither speak for a minute even as the smaller motions for him to tilt his head. Washing away the soap he finally huffs, “I wish you'd trust me enough to let me in.”

“I.. it's fine, it was my fault anyway. It's… nothing I.. can't deal with.” Chip's voice doesn't sound confident but despite the mild frustration the other lets it go. For now. Sudsing up the wash towel the water is temporarily shut off, “Arm up again.”

Scrubbing gently at the pale skin, he can sneakily do a more thorough examination of his patient. Chip’s knees have some abrasions that aren't from today as they’re already scabbed and there's a bruise on his hip that's older than the other marks. Are these from Offense? If he says anything green will brush it off. Chewing on his tongue he continues, feeling his belly and confirming no eggs. Chip makes the tiniest sound as his hand rubs above his stomach, “Feel nice?”

“I…I guess?” The slight shiver could be from being wet and cold or because of his attention. It's hard to say but he hasn't slapped his hand away so probably pleasant enough. Heat crawls up his neck, pooling in his guts. On his knees and so close to the other makes him feel things but he is in caretaker mode and easily dismisses the urges. He knows he'll have to wrap this up soon. Respectfully avoiding his genitals Citrus stands up, “Alright turn around.”

No fuss or protest from the other, seeing his back fully orange winces. Marks around his shoulders outline where he fell on his tanks. The skin is red and will probably bruise decently so his earlier remark was wrong. Touching them has Chip sharply inhale, “Sorry, sorry. I'll be quick.”

The silence between them feels heavy but Citrus doesn’t break it. He wants Chip to have a moment of peace, missing how it used to be. His friend was a lot more vibrant before, less subdued. Although a year of this would break anyone’s spirit under normal circumstances. Withdrawn in his thoughts he rests his forehead against the other’s spine, “I wanna see you smile again, a real smile.”

Tense shoulders drop as his friend turns his head back, there’s the sound of an inhale to speak but no words come. Orange nuzzles into his back a bit and groans, “Sorry I’m getting in my head. Here,” He hands him the towel, “I’ll get the water back on.”

Turning away to work the shower so the other can clean up a bit more with some shred of privacy. Keeping the shower head low Citrus gets it to a nice warm temperature in no time. He hears a frustrated sound above him and remains crouched for a heartbeat longer, “Don’t hurt yourself ok?”

A grumble is all he gets for that remark, “Wha~t? I fix you up nice and you go and cause yourself pain. Lucky I don’t charge you.”

“Hah hah.” Oh that sarcastic bastard . Standing up he turns and sprays Chip’s face, “Oh I’m sorry you sounded dry so I thought you were thirsty.”

Green coughs and pushes his hand away, shaking his head and growling at him. Orange sucks in his lips and shivers, fuck hot-no-fuck fuck. Exhaling slowly he sprays him again, “So spicy.”

Chip grabs the head and turns it on him, now the smaller man is waving at the water stream, “Not so fun huh?”

“Got you to smile didn’t it?” 

He pauses and does realize that he is smiling, a scoff follows a halfhearted eye roll. With the mood lifted the handle is returned and skin rinsed off. Now clean Citrus steps out to grab towels, “Dry off as best you can, I’ll help after cleaning your wounds.”

“ What? Why?”

“I only used basic supplies, I can use the better stuff so you don’t have to wake up early tomorrow for a redressing.” He rummages under the sink and pulls out a bowl, cloth and the wound cleaner. Chip scrunches up his nose, not thrilled to have to deal with that again. Although it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as earlier.

“Don’t be like that, if it’ll help you can stab me after this. I’m a day late for my shot, I was obviously a bit distracted.” There’s no anger in his voice at the disruption of his schedule. Chewing on his tongue Chip shrugs, he doesn’t mind helping out. His towel is taken and thrown over his head, “I can’t clean you if you’re going to be dripping everywhere.”

Hands scrub into his scalp as the smaller man dries him off. It’s a bit disorienting but always over quickly. Shaking his head and blinking away the dizziness he looks at himself in the mirror. Absolutely wild hair frames his face but the grin from his friend pulls a tiny one from himself as well. He might be firm but Citrus is a light in the dark for him. A sense of guilt pangs against his ribs at being so combative in the facility. 

The second cleaning goes much faster since emotions aren’t nearly as high. Chip watches in morbid curiosity while the other cleans the wounds, the medicine used earlier having numbed most of the skin. He makes a face at the wounds on the underside of his arm as they still sting.

“Swelling has eased up and the redness has faded. It won't be pretty for a while but if you listen then you should heal well. Your leg looks good too. I'll bandage it but by tomorrow it should be good.” Citrus sounds quite proud of himself, wiggling with a job well done. Chip nods absently, listening but not paying attention. At the mention of the next day dread welled up in him. Should he have played it low today? He really didn't want to go in with Captain, he'd have hurt him. And yet he's back at square one again. Talk about only delaying the inevitable…

“I asked Brooks to mix something for you. You best drink it and eat what I give you. Alright?” 

Another nod. I don't think I can pull running twice. I just hope these damn vials are enough for him to leave me alone. Ugh…my head..

“Will probably have you take a sleep aid, despite it messin’ with your dreams but it'll help heal this faster.”

An absent nod once more. There's a long pause that Chip doesn't notice, too wrapped up in his head.

“Wanna fuck?”

A noncommittal nod starts before he shakes his head with a violent blush, “What the hell!?”

“I knew you stopped paying attention.” Citrus doesn't look mad, just concerned which feels worse. He is always so concerned but it's best he doesn't know what's happening. It's best…

“How was your time with Brooks?” Green asks after getting his arm returned to him. He knows certain questions that'll make the other talk. There's a suspicious squint at his question, lips pursing before he clicks his tongue, “Short answer he's a human golden retriever with a soft spot…”

He trails off and scratches his head, debating whether or not to answer that. Chip gives a perplexed glance while he continues to dry off. Hanging the towel up Citrus finally continues, “He asked a lot about the crew and seems to have everyone pegged except well… you.”

Unease prickles up his spine, gripping the towel nervously. He can only give a small questioning sound to encourage him to speak before panic sets in. Citrus must not have picked up on his building anxiety so happily lists off, “He says Captain is a hard ass with a pension to make whoever is partnered with him do most of the work. Ratchet is similar but more in ensuring you can keep up with the crew. Rook is a wild card and he doesn't know if he's going to tell the truth or something that sounds like the truth.”

Licking the back of his teeth, Chip turns his head enough to see the other in his peripheral, “What does he say about you?”

Citrus chuckles, “That'll talk till the Dogs come home. That I'm oddly jovial for someone in a job like this. He's not wrong but it's exhausting to be scared all the time. You though, he hasn't been able to figure out. So he asked questions, mostly about how we became friends. How it is to be paired up with you and how to not come off as an asshole. Really seemed eager to know that one. I answered v-.”

Green stopped listening, he was not completely soothed by his explanation. Why is he asking those questions? Why through Citrus? Well he is the one most willing to talk…that makes some sense…

What did Citrus tell him? 

A sting of betrayal has him swallowing a lump in his throat as his friend continues to talk. His words barely reach Chip's ears through the rising tide in his mind. What did he say? What did he reveal? How safe is he? Is Brooks that trustworthy?

Do you really trust that blue outsider?

Chip speaks up, sharply cutting Citrus off, “What did you tell him?”

There's a shift in the body behind him, “Pardon?”

He turns with a strained stare, struggling not to start a fight. Citrus wouldn't betray him, right? He trusts him, you've trusted and been bitten before. How is this different? Clearly not enough to let him know the truth. He can't know the truth. His head throbs from stress, making him grit his teeth as he hisses, “What did you tell him? About me.”

His hands are shaking, in anger or fear he can't tell yet. Citrus looks a bit hurt, “Honey, I'd never gossip about you. I gave him vague enough answers about how you are working. You're dependable and excellent at keeping me out of danger. How you always seem to make a plan faster than I can stop freaking out. Stuff like how you just handled the Dog. Nothing nitty gritty or risque. I don't play like that.”

Paranoia swirls in his head like mist, his breathing getting shallow. Citrus tries to get his attention but the room is spinning. Hands take his firmly, bringing them to warm skin. He feels a steady heartbeat just under his fingertips, a beat he's trying so hard to protect. Fluttering unfocused blinks end with him squeezing his eyes shut, a tear rolling down his cheek. His friend’s gentle hand brushes it away with a soft shushing sound. 

The spiral is stopped but he's still stuck.

“Hey…deep breath in,” He complies, chest burning, “out, slowly. Good. Again, in.”

This is repeated until the static leaves his mind, finally able to focus and is met with wide blue eyes. Jolting back his hands are not released, “You had a bad time. I'm not mad, a little hurt but clearly that episode was real bad. Here. I'll get our clothes, get you fixed up, fed and medicated and you're going to bed. I think I'll give you something to help you sleep.”

Is it that bad? Frowning and looking away, guilt settles beside the pit in his stomach. Taking his hands back Chip breathes, “Ok…I'm sorry.”

His friend presses his forehead against his and sighs, “You're silly sometimes. Stay put for me.”

Chip crosses his arms against his middle and fidgets with the bandages. Trusting he's not going to crumble as soon as his back is turned, Citrus strides out to the locker. Brooks perks up and stands off his bunk before stopping, taking in the fact he is buck naked. Red overtakes his face. 

Completely confident with himself and now sidetracked, Citrus comes over to him, “Did you get the water?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry. Uh, I put it on the bed.” He averts his eyes and rubs his neck, “You uh, look nice, are you not cold?”

Blinking and laughing, the smaller man moves towards the other bunks, “Heheh, like what you see? Flirting aside, I am a self made man and more than comfortable in my skin.” 

He lifts the bottle and gives it a little shake, “Thank you for helping out. Can you step to the front for a few more minutes?”

The other looks a bit concerned but nods and heads out to the front. Citrus gathers fresh uniforms for himself and Chip, keeping his under-clothes and tossing the orange suit on the bunk. Opening the door Chip seems a bit less tense, taking his clothes with little fuss. He silently allows help with getting dressed and the two walk out.

“Eat and drink what’s on your bunk. Doctor’s orders.” His tone is light and ends with the joke when there’s a small scowl. Green settles on his bunk and takes the rations provided. Hopping up and getting his bag Citrus sits with him while prepping his shot. He sneaks a peak at the brown haired lump, pleased that he is in fact eating and sipping at the water. He checks the time on his watch to mentally mark when he’ll have him take the inhalant medication. Acting casual, he rests his calf against Chip’s, which has the other look at him with a head tilt.

“Is the water mixed right?” 

He gets a nod, “Good, good. I’m ready for some stabbing if your hands are steady.”

Green holds out his hand and holds the syringe with respect. Citrus rolls his briefs up and points where he'll inject while getting a bandage. He wipes the site with an alcohol wipe, “Alrighty, make me a self-made man.”

Chip exhales and shakes his head, doing as instructed. Orange grimaces and looks away for a second as a small spike of adrenaline has his back tingling. His friend removes the syringe, holding it in his mouth while applying the bandage. Bad needle safety aside he always does a good job, treating the smaller man with care.

“Nicely done, thanks.” The sharp is capped and set aside to be replaced later. The little doctor opens his box and pulls out a pill box and inhaler. Chip makes a low chest deep sound but continues to eat. He holds out his hand while his friend opens the box, “The heavier aid gives you nightmares right?”

That's a way to describe them. Chip nods and glances towards the gummy placed in his hand. His mouth tingles uncomfortably, he does not want to take the sleep aid. Chewing on his inner cheek for a moment he pops it into his mouth and chews it before he can reject his friend’s help. It tastes like fake fruit, nothing in particular standing out. Taking a bite of a ration he swallows it down and has to take several deep breaths. He makes a disgusted sound and shivers, “Ugh..”

“Alright, mouth please.” Citrus says, motioning with his hand. Green blinks in confusion and turns towards him with a small sound. What? Oh… Orange is shaking the inhaler and double checking the dosage, “Let’s see, I need to adjust a little so this doesn’t cause issues. Remember to exhale first and inhale it for..” He rechecks the dosage, “Six seconds should be acceptable.”

There’s a deeply uncomfortable sound bubbles up from his throat, breathing getting suddenly difficult. His hands feel sweaty and shake a little, not moving to take the device. His mouth feels both dry and flooded at the same time which has him standing abruptly. Dizzy, he steps away and holds out a hand for a moment to collect himself. He can hear the other ask him questions but it feels like it’s filtered through cotton, “I-I’m sorry. I d..don’t…fuck…”

Pressing the heel against his forehead, he tries to get his mind under control. A hand gently takes his, “I know you hate these. But you’re not in a safe spot for an injectable medication. Come here hun, you helped me and I’ll help you. Deep breath and come back to the bunk.”

He is easily pulled back to his bunk and sits with his back against the wall, staring at the inhaler like it’ll attack him if he looks away. Citrus takes it and charges it up, “Exhale slowly.”

Wetting dry lips, he sighs and breathes out. Resistance creeps up his limbs when his doctor prompts him to open up. Green eyes flick up to meet soft blue before the tension fades and he complies. The little doctor whispers, “Good, close. Inhale.”

The sound of the compressed medicine has green flinching but he inhales deeply as the other counts the seconds, “Alright, hold your breath until you can’t.”

Licking his mouth, Chip makes a face at the bitterness of the medicine. He shakes his head and chuffs unhappily. Citrus chuckles, “Yeah it’s pretty gross. Not everything is going to be pleasant. I tried but you can only handle certain medications. I have some candy that’ll take care of that. Strawberry? Peach? Uh…Brazzleberry? Hehe.”

“Peach, please.” He signs quickly, more than pleased to receive the sweet. Slowly the pressure of holding his breath builds so he unwraps it and enjoys the sugar. Exhaling slowly and coughing, the candy combats the bitterness and keeps the anxiety of seeing the slight puff of medication down.

“Good job.” Citrus checks the time and nods, petting his head. The gentleness has Chip’s eyes sliding closed, the stress of everything fading just enough. His friend gives his scalp a little scritch and slowly stands up, “Alright sugar, keep eating and I’ll check in with you in abo~ut twenty minutes.”

Chip shifts and looks at him, mumbling something which draws the other a little closer, “Hm?”

“Can you…"

We'll see if he wants such a broken mutt like you around.

A strange ache grips his chest as the words threaten to not escape. Reddened eyes can't bear to meet the other's gaze, but he doesn't want to be alone with drugs in his system. Swallowing dryly, Chip hopes his voice doesn't fail him, "Can you...stay?”

It's barely a whisper. Citrus blinks as if he didn't hear him right before smiling warmly. Casting a glance towards the front, he places his hands on his hips with a small chuff, “Yeah I think those two won’t misbehave. I’ve been meaning to look at some things back here so sure. I’ll stay.”

Chapter Text

True to his word, Citrus stays with him. Busy rummaging through some of their supplies, but close enough that green remains at ease. Brooks had peeked in earlier, but merely grabbed his gloves and disappeared back to the front. The world fades slowly, stripped down to just the two of them.

Chip’s head keeps nodding forward, feeling too heavy as the meds do their job. He doesn't want to sleep, he really really doesn't want to sleep. Even with the marrow deep weariness, rest isn't something easy to surrender to. Citrus said he has to so his body can recover yet he continues to fight it. He isn't doing it to spite his friend…he dreads what might visit him in his dreams.

His resistance leaves him staring at nothing in particular. The sensation of touch ghosts along his legs which has him shifting in on himself. Blinking sluggishly, Chip jolts at the sensation of falling accompanied with the sound of drums. Blood-shot eyes glance towards where it sounded from, yet are greeted to emptiness. Still just in the back of the ship sitting in his bunk. No monsters here, nothing has touched him. 

His eyes get harder to open with every unwilling blink and are entirely unfocused when he does finally manage to open them. Despite how his body keeps sinking into sleep his mind is still too aware, too afraid. Soft steps gain his fading attention as someone stands in front of him and gently cups a hand under his jaw. Green only manages a tiny gravely sound of displeasure, nose scrunching. 

“He~y You need to lay down there honey.” Citrus’ voice is velvet soft and comforting as he tilts his head up a bit. He's leaning into his accent to soothe the other into giving in, “Can’t keep fightin’, it’s alright. Lay down for me, please?”

Eyelids refuse to part as eyes attempt to focus on orange’s face, Chip makes a little sound that sits in his throat. He's unable to form words as he leans away from the warm hand. Fingers lace through his hair, cupping the back of his head to keep him from falling back. Both guide him towards his uninjured side. Another soft protest comes from green before he finally gives in and lays down as instructed. Citrus merely hums softly and pets his hair, “Good boy. You can sleep, ya need tah sleep.”

Mind and limbs are too heavy to resist the call of the darkness, finally lulled to sleep by his friend’s humming. Slowly his breathing deepens and face relaxes to an uneasy calm expression. Citrus sighs and pulls the blanket up to cover him, stubborn as always. Standing up and stretching he checks the time, it’s 7:37PM. Good, he’ll be down for a long time. 

Putting on his helmet, Citrus strolls out to the front and leans on the computer to bug Rook. Reflected glass glances towards him and huffs audibly, “You can stop with those thoughts right now. I’m not doing whatever you want me to do. Helped with the dog but none of that.”

They attempt to shoo him off but the little crewmate is far harder to wave off than some bug. Orange gives a huffy pout and crosses his arms, “What I don’t get to even talk? I know there’s more to you than just yer dick.”

The head tilt at his words has him chuckle, “Where’s Brooks?”

“Went to collect more samples from whatever’s left of that dog we brought back.” Their visor shifts, looking past the shorter crewmate, “I'm guessing he's asleep.”

“Yeah. So you get to deal with little ol’ me. Hey, can I see the scan logs?” Citrus sidles up to him while fluttering his lashes. Rook scoffs and lightly pushes him away, “You don't even know how to read them.”

“Yeah? Teach me then.” He counters, grinning while walking his fingers up their arm, “You so good at teaching me all sorts of other things~”

A darkness dusts the taller man's cheeks. He drags his teeth across his bottom lip and turns his head towards the other, “You're incorrigible.”

Citrus just gives a little wiggle of victory, knowing he's getting his way. Purple shakes his head and types something into the terminal. A slot to his right spits out two sheets which they grab and tear free. Placing them down, he can immediately tell Citrus is totally lost just by the drop in his shoulders. 

“I warned you–” “Yeah, yeah. What's the first long number?”

He takes a pen and marks each part he's going to explain. Starting with the first string of numbers, 53.8089798 -8.1090545, the coordinates, “This here are the coordinates for where we are on the moon. That's why each line is the same. From there, this is how far you are from the ship; 87m this time. It's all the same until we're outside, then you see it changes on these.”

He brackets out a cluster of numbers on the second page with similar measurements. Citrus nods but the tilted helmet suggests it's not quite sinking in. His effort to learn is quite cute nonetheless.

“That’s for the floors. 0 will be the floor with the main entrance since fire exits can vary. Positive for going up, negative for going down.” Their pen then moves and underlines the employee number. It's self explanatory; who the scan is coming from. That has the smaller crewmate perk up, “Can you highlight the scans from Chip?”

“Why?” He asks while doing so. Citrus doesn't answer right away, trying to parse out the lines. He looks over numbers spaced differently than the others, “Guessing these are monsters?”

Rook nods, “It's a simple letter to numbers. So it only lists entities in the system,” They point out 20.8.21.13.16.5.18, “This one here is the Thumper, Chip scanned it at 10:23 and 11:34 before Ratchet scanned it a few minutes later.”

The Thumper isn't scanned again by her or anyone. She must have killed it. The Bracken then would have moved in and taken the territory. Must of been close, it's scanned twenty minutes later. Damn…what a kick in the teeth. He blinks at a few broken scan logs, “Why’re these broke?”

Purple leans in for a moment, “Captain. Four unaccounted scans. I can't pull those, I've tried before. The data itself must be scrambled before it's sent. Most of his are completely trashed. Aggravating, really.”

Let's see…damn…he was wandering around for a few hours with those wounds. I'll have to make him do another med dose tomorrow. He didn't seem lightheaded so it must have not bled badly. Lucky it didn't nick an artery. Rook tilts his head a bit while reading over the scans, “What exactly are you looking for? You don't normally care for the technical side of my job.”

“I wanted to figure out just how long Chip was injured.” Citrus frowns, the Bracken isn't scanned again. Skimming through the logs he is searching for one; Barber. He pauses, blinking, there is no scan for it. Orange double checks, triple even before looking away. He doesn't have a direct pinpoint on when his friend encountered the entity. He asks Rook to explain the scans between the lost data and Brooks' scan pinging Chip. 

The tech seems delighted to do so, explaining that lines of zeros in places mean nothing found. Scrap is counted with both the letters to numbers and then how many pinged. A line of question marks are incomplete scans, only one shows up between the points. Rook rambles a bit more but it honestly just goes in one ear and out the other.

“You and Brooks didn't really come across much. Lucky day for you...” His voice trails off as Citrus gives a small look. He holds up a hand, “Just an observation. This facility doesn't seem too alive.”

“A little over a dozen unique scans. Decent scrap, mostly from Ratchet. She must be bored.”

“Well~ You're not there to keep her company.” His mild flirting has Rook getting a bit fidgety, “That. Is. on purpose.”

A knowing gasp earns a sharp glance, the taller man not enjoying the cheekiness of the country boy. Orange hooks a finger under the red rope peeking out from the collar of his shirt, “You had some fun~ But must of gotten some trouble thrown your way.”

His hand is lightly smacked away, Rook giving an unamused sigh, “Enough to not fuck you into tomorrow, so chill out cowboy. Thinking you're more affected by your patient than you think.” 

He leans against the terminal and catches Citrus' chin, “You want me to fuck you so bad it makes you look stupid. Sorry space cowboy, I'm on lockdown, can't ride this horse. No matter how hard you beg.”

Citrus goes beet red, so glad he had the helmet on. He can just barely catch the sight of their face past the glass, tauntingly smug. A shiver runs up the small man's spine as he can't help but chew on his tongue, bastard. Rook exhales a single laugh and lets his head drop, “You're not the only one capable of teasing. How ‘bout you keep yourself outta trouble?”

Orange puffs out his cheeks and scoffs, “Just spinning my wheels with you right now, huh?”

“‘Fraid so. I've been around you long enough to resist your siren call.” Purple folds their arms with an air of victory. Citrus is about to go off on him when Brooks turns the corner with an arm full of vials, “Is everything alright?”

Rook waves away the tension, “Yeah, yeah. Nothing to get worked up over.”

Fingers walk across orange suited shoulders before pushing his head back with a finger, “Just teaching him some things.”

Citrus squares his jaw with a scowl, the urge to fight is too strong, “Oh, I'm sorry. I'm a hands on kinda guy, when you said stay outta trouble did you mean this?”

He grabs hold of the harness, yanking Rook to eye level. His other hand palms his crotch as his voice dances dangerously low, “Sugar, you are trouble. I crave a little trouble~”

Not to be outdone, purple presses their helmet against his and easily off balances him. Orange shoulders bump up against the terminal, “If I wasn't under strict orders I'd show you just how much trouble you're playing with. Now, let go and for once. Behave.”

He pulls the now flustered fruit off of him and adjusts himself, “I swear you're worse than me.”

Brooks had long since decided to ignore the two, unloading the new samples. With Citrus pacified and their tech returning to his duties, he wants to unwind a bit before the last two return. The sun is setting so it can't be much longer before everyone is back. His helmet is tucked under the bunk along with his gloves. Thoughts swirl listlessly in his mind surrounding today. He learned a lot yet still feels as if he's just treading water. Lost with land nowhere in sight. 

Kicking out of his boots, he finds himself peering over his shoulder at the sleeping cat. The smaller man looks better than he was in the facility. The memory of Chip holding on tightly has blue rubbing the spot he bit. He could have done some real damage but didn't. He unzips his jacket and gets a look at the mark left behind. Might bruise. 

With not much to do and not going back into the facility, Brooks decides to clean up. The other two bicker quietly as he heads towards the bathroom.

_-_-_

It's two hours before the ship will automatically leave, only one crewmate needs to return. Brooks had long since fallen asleep after checking in on everyone. The misfit duo retired to the backroom, talking quietly when big red returned. 

That was an hour earlier and their voices have drifted off. Only one continues to work.

Ratchet hums to herself while cataloging the samples the boys had collected. She is rather impressed by the diversity of the monsters collected from. The sound of footsteps has her perk up and glance back at the front of the ship. She swallows a reflexive jolt seeing the yellow clad man step into view, truly covered in Bracken blood. Explains why there was only one scan of the monster in the logs. Shifting to face him, “You look like you had fun. Should I get the hose?”

The man scoffs loudly as he drops a heavy looking bag she can assume is full of samples. He punches the door switch and slowly peels his gloves off, turning them inside out, “I, unlike Rook, am capable of keeping the ship clean.”

Red squares her jaw and exhales through her nose, bastard. The man meticulously removes his jacket, turning the sleeves inside out and folding the garment in a way that the biomaterial is contained. He does the same for pants and bags the uniform up without getting much blood on the floor. Ratchet rolls her eyes and types in the launch code, “Point made sir.”

“I’ll log my samples after cleaning up.” He waves dismissively and walks to the back while removing his helmet. Ratchet frowns but continues her task, “Understood.”

_-_

When he returns she actually gets to see inside the bag and regrets it instantly. Don't get her wrong. She hates the monsters as much as the next employee, but with what is in the bag? She hopes it’s dead. 

She’s killed Brackens before and knows they rot as soon as the final blow lands. With the blood covered clothes combined with body parts there is no way he killed it quickly. Her lips part but she is completely speechless as a small shiver runs up her spine. The carnage reminds her just how dangerous this wiry man is.

“Well…you. certainly…got something out of your system. I’m not cataloging that. Have fun with that, sir.” She tries to keep her voice level but she is disturbed deeply. He takes a second clipboard smugly, “Of course. I finally managed to catch one, I wasn’t going to let an opportunity go to waste.”

“Wait, if there was a Bracken…” Her head swivels towards the hallway, Chip didn’t show signs of dealing with eggs so how? 

“It seems he escaped it. Unusual for his typical performance. However, this specimen was not an egg carrier. Perhaps that changed the outcome of the encounter? It appears that he still collected some samples.”

The dismissiveness rubs her the wrong way and has her hackles rise but she doesn’t snap, “Citrus suspects a Barber. He also handled a successful Dog encounter. The outer container has a whole limb.”

She watches him actually look mildly intrigued, eyebrows raising for the time it took to process her words, “Huh, I suppose he is able to impress. How rare.”

“Not so disappointing then, hm?” The taller crewmate murmurs, turning away to type the logs into the computer. The silence is full of keystrokes, pen scratching and the hum of the engine. Captain doesn’t refute or fight her words, but there’s an iciness coming from behind that has Ratchet on edge. Her old scars tingle with a deep unease and has her wishing she didn't have to digitize the records. 

A ping on the computer has red glance up at the notification, it’s labeled for Captain. Blinking and squinting suspiciously, Ratchet turns her head but keeps her eyes on the screen, “Sir, you have a new email.”

“What is the subject line?” He sounds completely uninterested.

“‘New Mission Docket.’” She sneaks a glance towards him. Captain straightens up but inhales sharply, “I’ll get to it after you're done.”

“Yes sir.”

“That may change how the teams will be sorted tomorrow. Perhaps it's time our newest crew member works with Chip?”

She blinks in surprise, she was certain he'd take the smaller man in after he ran off. Placing the clipboard down Ratchet faces him, “Are you asking for my opinion, sir?”

“Yes I am.” There’s a tone of self-importance in his voice, a slow grin growing but he merely motions for her to speak. The second in command pulls her lips tight in thought, she has to be concise, “I do believe in light of the success of today and ease of the moon this would be an opportune time to have them paired together. Brooks has shown a strong protective streak…yet is hesitant to attack monsters unprovoked. That aversion does not appear to prevent him from protecting his partners.”

Flipping the pages to arrange her thoughts better she presses on, “He is a curious man and I foresee there to be friction between the two, but nothing that would compromise the mission. He's got to cut his teeth on dealing with Chip eventually. If we wait much longer and go to more difficult moons, their differences could prove more destructive to each other. So I do recommend pairing them together tomorrow. Him fitting in with this crew long term will be tested tomorrow.”

Captain nods in thought, giving an approving huff, “Observant. I'll leave you too that tomorrow.”

She sighs as it feels she dodged a blade, “I’ll finish these and be turning in.”

There’s an approving nod and she returns to her task, eyes flicking up to the notification. What will tomorrow hold?

_-_-_

Morning comes quickly, too quickly. 

A dreamless sleep had Brooks feeling as if he blinked to the early hours. Unrested and feeling unaligned with himself. His last wisps of sleep are cleared away overhearing a little pep talk from orange to a groggy Chip. Sitting up with a yawn and stretch, he looks over. His feral cat has his lip upturned at the inhaler being presented to him by the other, “Come on now. You need another dose. Yes. That means you're eatin’ today. I'm sorry this is the first thing in the mornin’.”

There's another small sound from the injured man but relents after a moment. Brooks attempts to not to spook the two as he gets up. His efforts are for naught as Chip notices him mid intake and chokes, recoiling and coughing. Citrus sighs and rubs the side of his head, “Jumpier than a cricket today, huh?”

Green coughs hard, panting and clearing his throat. He sniffles and wipes his mouth, “Sorry…Let me try again..”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle anyone.” Brooks says softly, watching the smallest glance back. Chip remains silent but takes the medicine without further issue. He doesn't meet either gaze, keeping his shoulders hunched. Citrus gives him a little affirmation and caps the inhaler, “Good, remember hold it as long as you can.”

He places it away in his kit, “Eat somethin’, ok?”

“Yeah..sorry.”

Wanting to get ready, Brooks turns to head to the bathroom. He only gets one step before a hand grabs his wrist. The touch calms unknown squiggly static that had settled under his skin. It feels like a rippling surface suddenly stills. How….odd. Now aware of the feeling he can still feel it in his fingertips. Citrus circles to his left side, poking at the strap of his tanktop. The bite. Lazer focused on the injury, orange runs his thumb over the mark, “No broken skin. Swelling’s skin deep, reckon you'll wear this fer a few days if you don't take meds.”

Flexing his shoulder to glance at it, Brooks ends up shrugging, “Well it doesn’t hurt so no harm done”

The deadpan expression says everything, “Ignorin’ bites ain't smart.”

“I hear you. Can I get ready for today now?” He chuckles, trying to keep the mood light. The other merely huffs, running a hand through blonde locks, “Fine.”

_-_

Captain looks over the materials gathered yesterday, not saying anything as everyone gathers. Ratchet decides to do the debrief while he catalogs, “Since yesterday was fairly successful with collection we've decided that both objectives are equal today. More samples from monsters collected before are advised so there's more diversity. Brooks you're with Chip and Citrus you're with me unless you feel like going off on your own.”

Brooks senses Chip go rigid next to him at the mere idea of Citrus being alone. Orange shrugs, “I don't mind runnin’ with you, just remember short legs.”

“Right. You two,” She turns her attention towards him and Chip, “don't kill each other. This would have been done on Offense but…plans obviously changed.”

Hm? Would that have happened yesterday? Maybe… He just nods as Captain flips between two pages of his notes, “Looks like most of the samples are holding up. Some of mine were compromised but they weren't the freshest samples. Keep up the work, looking to be on track to clear this mission just fine if today goes well.”

He scans over the group before setting the board down and talking with Ratchet. Rook breaks off to check the landing progress, head tilting with what they see from the cameras, “That's…different. Captain what is this landing zone? The coordinates you gave are… not adding up.”

The yellow suited man strolls over and peers into the monitor, “How peculiar. Those are the given coordinates. Just find a safer spot.”

Brooks exchanges looks between the others, no one knowing what was going on. Left to wait, Citrus pulls him aside, “Come in the back for a sec.”

Following after him to the back he wasn't ready for something to get tossed his way. Nearly fumbling the pack Brooks blinks in bewilderment, “What is this?”

“First aid pack, has a pinch of everything. That bag can't hold a lot so if there's injuries I've used Spider webbing as wrap before. It's useful enough and built in sticky.”

“Making sure at least one of us has something?” Brooks teases lightly but the shrugging nod says everything. This is a bad habit of their little crewmate that doesn't seem likely to be broken.

“He never remembers.”

Returning to the front Chip is not paying them mind, barely reacting when the other questions if he's eaten. Hollow eyes flick over towards him, face completely unreadable but tension oozes off him. Citrus waves a ration in his face, “Hey, you have the meds in your system. Eat.”

Chip takes the ration with a slight scowl but gnaws on it. Rook does not look thrilled, “Sir, this spot is eclipsed…are you sure–”

“Just land the ship Rook.” 

Chapter Text

The door opens and Captain shoulders past to disappear into the forest. Brooks catches the others shift uneasily, he’s unfamiliar with a zone being eclipsed. The strange lighting has the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He leans towards Rook, “Crashcourse on eclipsed, please?”

“Monsters are more aggressive and with the sun blocked, come out whenever. It's flat out; more dangerous. Have fun!” He chirps and spins on his heel with an evil little snicker. Grrreat. Ratchet hangs back with Citrus to talk to their tech. That leaves…

He didn't leave without me right? Brown eyes wander towards the front of the ship, Chip is just staring at him. His little cat’s posture is stiff and unwelcoming, he can imagine the ears pinned back so easily. He steps out when the larger man follows after him. Scanning the surroundings, Brooks just can't explain, but even the ground feels off. He feels….off.

Shadows snake like water across the dirt, making the area feel far more alien and disorienting. Taking a moment to get a better grasp of their surroundings, the taller man defaults to the other's lead. Chip takes it and presses on down an embankment, following obvious footprints. Brooks slides down and keeps close, itching  to distract himself, “You seem more awake today, slept well?”

Tinted glass turns towards him, shoulders squaring, hands hesitate before signing, “Yeah, what Citrus gave me…helps.”

“I'll have to keep that in mind if I have a rough night. How are you feeling?”

His crewmate climbs over a fallen tree and checks the area, signing for him to be quiet. Brooks follows but doesn't drop his question, “How are you feeling?”

His signs aren't as confident but the smaller man stares at him, making blue want to see his expression. For a second he doubts his signs, he did it right…right? There's a small, quick head shake as if to get himself out of a stupor, “Slow and…sore.”

Chip stands slowly and heads into the swirling morning mist with the blue clad crewmate tailing behind. The terrain is strange compared to the last landing zone, almost artificial. Thoughts distract with each step, eyes wandering around the dizzying foliage. Brooks nearly runs straight into Chip because he wasn't paying attention. The other shoves back on contact and he sees why; a steep drop-off. The ground is oddly uniform and clean-cut, nearly at an untraversable angle. Even the plants struggle to grow, only rooting in thick patches. Unsure if a monster is nearby he stays quiet, “What..is that? That's not right, is it?”  

“No. I've never seen this...” Chip motions for him to follow as he carefully picks his way down the slope. Brooks can't see what he sees but steps exactly where he had. Only once does he slip up but catches himself before completely losing his footing. When he glances up to check on the other, he finds him poised to assist. His little crewmate is quick to withdraw when it’s clear he’s not going head first down the embankment. Thankfully there’s no further incident and flat ground gets closer with each cautious step. The sense of relief having both feet on the ground had Brooks sigh shakily. The shadows continue to squiggle as if alive. Combined with the stubborn mist clinging to the air it is difficult to see further than ten meters in either direction clearly. However, something much closer catches his wandering eyes instead. Two straight lines cut through the middle of the gully like scars. 

“Wa…wait are those tracks?-” He covers the lower half of his helmet and looks around. Nothing, just silence. They wait in suspense for several minutes, Chip scanning the area warily. When he finally relaxes Brooks does too. The smaller man crouches down and touches the steel embedded in the ground. He shifts to the left and stares down the way and then to the right, “Following it that way will take us to the facility.”

“How do you know that?”

Chip motions towards the darkness, “The scanner is picking something up.”

Oh, right. Clicking his scanner while looking to the right something indeed lights up in blue. The two share a look and press forward, Chip constantly looking around with an air of unease. The object melts into view and has Brooks pause with a sense of foreboding.

It's a train car.

A train car off the tracks.

A train car off the tracks and on its side.

With the metal ripped open . 

His mind spikes with dread but is shaken from it as Chip moves closer. The boxcar looks decrepit, moss and vegetation growing up the sides. Whatever happened had happened a long time ago. Is this why they landed here? Is there something in the facility the Company is looking for? 

Chip investigates the metal box, clearly looking for a way over it. Finding the distance between them increasingly uncomfortable, Brooks quickly closes it. His movement spooks green into jolting away from him with a low growl. I'm not the only one ill at ease…

“Don't do that again!” Despite the angry and sharp way his little crewmate signed, he can see his hands are shaking. Something is bothering him. Trying to soothe ruffled fur, Brooks signs back apologically, “Sorry. Didn't realize how u-...un-..spooked I am. Find a way that isn't rusty?”

“No. The ladder isn't stable.” Chip perks at a subtle vibration, straightening up and reaching out towards Brooks. There’s a Keeper! He shoves him towards the torn opening, they have to be out of sight quickly. Blue doesn’t seem to understand and resists his pushing until a much louder stomp has him jump. It finally clicks and he takes hold of Chip's arm, pulling him forward and through the hole first. 

Adrenaline lights Chip’s nerves on fire even more than the monstrous threat as memories flash in the dark. His chest tightens as he forces himself to take deep breaths. Brooks manages to get inside just as the footsteps get achingly close. Not wanting to be touched again he scrambles away and huddles further in the boxcar. Falling into a panic attack right now was not an option. His heart thunders in his ears as he presses his back against the rusted insides. 

The two fall quiet, the interior lights of their helmets the only thing keeping them aware of the other. Brooks' gaze falls on Chip before snapping above them when the hazy light fades further. The monster is close. The larger body slowly crawls away from the torn metal into the darkness surrounding the other. With him closer, Chip can hear him breathing through his teeth. He doesn't want him this close. Too close. Don’t touch me!

“S…stay away.” He snaps in agitation, too stressed to be less aggressive. Brooks stops and sits back, listening to the Keeper. Chip curls up on himself, trying to shake the sticky memories the grab had triggered. Where he had been grabbed burned and being holed up in the dark wasn't helping. The monster wanders aimlessly and doesn’t leave yet.

“Have you ever been caught by Keepers?”

The question has him slowly lifting his head from his knees, not hearing him, “What?”

Blue sheepishly rubs the back of his helmet, “Uh…have you ever had an encounter with those?”

Unfortunately, it’s a fair question but the implication made him angry. He hunches his shoulders and flexes his ears with a scowl, “No! I’ve never gotten caught by those monsters.”

His voice is sharp, glaring at him as he continues, “They’re loud and deaf, if you’re not distracted you’ll never have to deal with them. Don’t turn on your flashlight. Stay out of sight and don’t make too many vibrations. It’ll walk off in time.”

A quick swish of fabric says everything after he mentions the flashlight. He rolls his eyes, growling under his breath. Brooks shifts a little closer, “I mean, makes sense. Outside seems to be your element. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”

“I'd rather drown than ever be caught by those monsters.” Green hisses, getting ready for a fight with how close the other is. Every muscle tense as Brooks settles down next to him, “That..I didn’t mean... I’m sorry. That was stupid to ask.”

The Keeper moves about just outside as they settle into an uncomfortable silence. Brooks has to keep flexing his fingers, the static has returned in the heat of the situation. Why does this feel so weird..? Looking over he can see Chip’s face softly lit by the interior lighting, he is staring ahead blankly. With each breath the visor fogs up, clearly he’s not the only one having problems. He was fine…what..!! He sits up a bit as realization dawns on him. I grabbed him without thinking. Rolling his top lip in thought, he reaches out tentatively towards the other. The fluffed cat snaps his head at the movement, staring at his hand with alarm. Slowly he huffs and shakily touches his glove with the back of his pointer finger. With his expressed permission blue gently rubs his forearm, “I’m sorry for grabbing you. I panicked and wasn’t thinking. I don’t mean any harm, I promise.”

Tired green eyes watch him warily but allow him to rub the burning away, “I’m…it’s fine.”

Brooks lets his arm go after a minute and slowly crawls away to check if the Keeper wandered off. He scans the area and slowly peers out, footprints circle the area before climbing out the opposite side they had come in. Scanning from each angle it doesn’t get pinged so he is fairly confident it left. He ducks back inside, “I think it’s gone.”

Chip nods absently, “I don’t feel anything.”

He crawls towards the opposite side of the car and squeezes out onto the other side. He calls out just loud enough that it’s clear. Brooks approaches the space and has to unbuckle his tanks to push through first. Carefully maneuvering he pulls himself free and blinks at the ominous sight in front of them.

The rest of the train was in no better shape. 

Derailed and wedged against the walls the rest of the four car train lay crumpled as if the metal was merely cardboard. Thankfully it appears to be an easy climb despite the damage. Brooks takes a single step before Chip’s hand thuds against his chest, finger pressed to his filter. He looks along the ridge of ragged metal and sees something hiding in exposed insides of the third car. 

“Hawk. It’s asleep. I don’t know if there’s more.” He then points up and away from the hole where large amounts of dirt had half buried two of the boxcars. The path looks stable enough and doesn’t risk having to deal with the entity or possibly entities. Chip moves first and tests the ground, taking each step carefully. He looks back, “Feels solid enough, avoid the thinner vegetation patches.”

He turns away before Brooks can respond, leaving the other in thought. He really is good at this huh… Shaking the thoughts so he doesn’t forget where to follow after him, the two scale over the crash. Shielding his visor blue can see the facility, the massive building feels haunted with the strange lighting. The mist was receding now, only hugging the darkest corners and revealing the carnage that had caused the train crash. 

Earth Leviathan.

The twisted, gnarled tracks reaching into the sky mark the massive disturbance that the monster would have left behind. The train engine rests wheels up and torn in half, the other half either consumed by the entity or landed much much further away. A shiver crawls up his back remembering the Worm from yesterday. That could have gone so badly…and there’s nothing I could’ve done to save them…

Static crawls up his nerves, threatening to root him to the spot. Breathing suddenly gets a bit harder, searching for something. Anything. 

He reaches out a bit blindly and his hand brushes against the presence next to him. Touching the other soothes the building…building…

Chip hisses and jerks away, snapping under his breath, “Stop touching me.”

“S…Sorry. I feel weird.” He admits and pulls his hand back. He isn’t trying to cause problems, thankfully the strange feeling faded for now. Brooks swallows a dryness in his throat and decides to move first, picking his way down to flat ground. They haven’t even stepped foot in the facility and there’s so much tension between them. It feels like the worst back and forth, only feeling close when Chip’s in crisis. Can’t he accept him without the pressure? 

Sighing softly and rubbing his palm against his wrist, Brooks hopes that it’ll be an easy day. Maybe he’ll be able to make some tangible headway. 

_-_-_

Entering the factory did not ease the tension between them. Chip keeps glancing at him, his distrust clear as day. Brooks wants to soothe the hackles but there's not much to do yet. He barely understands why he feels so oddly so how can he help his crewmate? Clearing his throat, “How about we take the right path?”

With a small shrug Chip turns and presses forward. He listens to any suggestion made but doesn’t speak, seemingly elsewhere mentally. His silence is so crushingly different from Citrus' constant conversation. Blue only lasts about ten minutes, “Are you upset with me?”

The other stops, turning towards him, “ No.”

“Then why–Hey!” Chip had walked away, leaving Brooks rubbing his neck. He is definitely upset.

He follows after his feral cat, observing how he deals with the facility. Curious to see how true what Citrus told him is, the taller crewmate slowly lets the other lead. Chip takes to it seamlessly yet peers back towards him occasionally. He is vigilant and quick witted, yet far less at ease than he was outside. Brooks watches how he listens and tests to see if paths are clear. His methods allow them to give a Thumper a wide berth. The stomping caused goose bumps to crawl up Brooks’ limbs. He finds himself sticking extra close to his partner which has the other getting more agitated. After huddling away in a room while the Thumper passes by a junction further ahead, it dawned on him what Chip was doing. It’s tracking but reversed, he's avoiding what he tracks. Blue had to admit he was impressed, finally murmuring, “You have some serious skill, I can’t keep track of the differences at all.”

Chip shifts, waving his compliment away, “It comes with experience… nothing special.”

“Why are you downplaying your abilities? We’ve avoided that damn Thumper like three times now. Hell, you orchestrated that entire thing with the Eyeless Dog!” He just watches him shake his head, signing again that it’s experience. How could that be his only answer? That didn't sit right with Brooks. This felt more ingrained than just picked up during the job. Who was he before this job? Will he ever know? Blue tries to initiate more conversations but he’s constantly shut down. The smaller man grows more disgruntled with each attempt, walking away from him mid sentence. He gets the hint but it is burning him inside. 

So they continue to wander in silence, which is killing blue after having such good dialogues with orange. Occasionally Chip rubs his arm when overexerting himself but hasn’t made much of a fuss about the injury. Citrus’ dogged persistence seems to have paid off with healing the worst of it. The two are quick to collect scrap after a few Hoarders pester them. The bugs are a bit off, mutated even. Makes him question what is going on with this factory, the radiation meter hasn’t gone off so for the time being they are safe. At least, safe from radiation. Green fishes out a rubber duck and casually passes it to one of the little bugs. Observing the scene, something suddenly clicks in the taller man’s head. He hasn’t tried asking about what he knows, he was willing to talk about the Dog before, “Do Hoarders bother you often?”

Chip perks up, head turning slightly back towards him. Gotcha. He dusts off his gloves as the little bugs dance with the cheap scrap he had given them, “No, they’re the easiest to deal with. Fairly passive as long as you don’t injure them or accidentally take scrap from their hoard. Just need something worth giving over on hand. So keep an eye out for low level scrap.”

Blue nods, he didn’t know about the stealing from them part. Learned something new. The ducky carrying bug pulls its prize away from the other before disappearing down the hall with the second chasing after it. 

I think I hear something…

Brooks jerks at the voice of a ghost, head whipping back to the emptiness behind the two. Sweat clings coldly to his back while blood rushes past his ears. Why…why is my heart racing? There's nothing here. Eyes flit all over before allowing him to find his crewmate, a small head tilt meeting his gaze. There must have been something as Chip then perks up and snaps towards the hallway to the right, turning quickly and shoving Brooks back. The two stumble into a dark corner as that damn Thumper stomps into the junction. Brooks' back meets the wall while Chip makes sure they’re in the shadows, watching the monster. Green grumbles under his breath, nervousness clear in his voice, “Damn thing won’t go away…are we–”

Ice clots in Brook’s limbs, a high pitched sound blocking out the other’s voice. His eyes can’t tear away from the monster in front of them as it stomps closer. It hasn’t noticed them with Chip’s quick actions but he is shaking. That is the monster that led to the deaths of his team. He vaguely hears a whining protest but his mind is reeling. Is that the last thing Mendez saw? 

What the hell is that?!

He feels someone squirming against him, fingers reflectively gripping onto the thing that is barely anchoring him in place. Is someone calling his name?

I think Mendez is dead…Brooks help me!

“W…Ward..” He breathes, the warmth in his hands stops moving, “..Ward..run..please…”

I can’t run! I have to jump!

“Brooks… Brooks..”

“Don’t jump….you’ll die…you died..” He is barely breathing, hand reaching for the release of his helmet. It’s too enclosed, he can’t breathe.

They died!

He failed! 

Suddenly his head is yanked down as Chip grabs hold of the filters. The action breaks his panic, blinking and staring past the tinted visor, there’s a look of wide eyed discomfort, “Brooks, you’re hurting me!”

He looks lower and realizes he is digging his fingers into his crewmate’s shoulders. Startled, Brooks jerks his hands back, palms sweating and shaking. An apology starts and stops a few times before he whispers, “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to do that. Are you ok?”

“Are you? ” Chip growls while rubbing his shoulders with tiny pained sounds. He steps away when the other moves to comfort or check if he left marks. Green’s head twists towards the hall and back towards Brooks, “I know how get rid of it but…something else might come around with it gone.”

“What?”

“Certain monsters are natural predators to each other. The Thumper will go, another may come from deeper within the facility or a Bracken may take over the territory.” He rolls his shoulders and moves around him. Blue feels like he really messed up but his heart thuds with raw grief, “Wait, Chip. Please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to grab onto you like that. Please-”

He reaches out and stops dead when the smaller man spins on his heel, hackles raised and giving a low warning growl. Blue pulls his hand back, feeling so lost and crumbling, “I’m sorry. I just…heard…my old crew before they…”

His voice breaks which has Chip deflate, glancing away. Seeing Brooks in such a state has him feeling bad snapping, but he is also not having an easy time. We’ll get nowhere…what did he do..? He sighs, fidgeting with his jacket collar before letting his shoulders drop. The other is so touch oriented. He doesn’t want to do this but having them both struggling is going to get them nowhere. Or worse…caught.

Swallowing his own fear of touch he weighs his next actions. With a subdued shiver he reluctantly offers a hug. Brooks leans closer and hesitates for a moment before giving in and hugging him. Chip goes rigid, squeezing his eyes shut. Exhaling and tentatively placing fingertips against his back, his heart pounding as a few nasty comments rake against his ears. Blue sighs and relaxes against him, head pressing against his shoulder.

Good little dog. Give in.

Chip chokes on a sharp intake and shoves Brooks away, head hanging low as he struggles not to feel ill. Brooks attempts to comfort him but a quick full hand stops him. Stiff fingers curl into a fist as he silently disengages to check the hall, it’s clear.

“Chip…”

“Come on.”

Chapter Text

Finding the fire exit was difficult because of the debris from the old train crash but the pair was successful after some directions from Rook. Ratchet had to leverage a rock away from the door but had been capable of clearing the way. The door groaned when opened, the room was littered with dusty old uniforms. Giving knowing glances at each other, the two suspect this site did not get evacuated properly back in the day. Citrus, unbothered by those long dead, collected any keys found in the room. It's not like the uniforms are going to use them anyway. The halls had signs of fire damage and rust, only beginning to clear up after a certain point. It seems something catastrophic had happened here, but that is not their mission. It's not questions they have to find the answers to. Following some of the basic protocol parameters, scrap is collected in case of Hoarders. 

Citrus can tell Ratchet is looking for something as they linger within a ten room radius of the exit, she's not that subtle. He guesses it's likely a spot for some heated fun. As she silently moves on from a stairwell he can't help but wonder what her checklist is.

From experience, a room with either one or two exits is best. Stairwells are so risky, but has been where he's had some of the hottest sex. With or without monsters. Two level rooms are a mixed bag because of his first point. Hallways are as risky as stairs but with Thumpers out and about it's a hard pass.

He twirls the key around his neck and hums as thoughts swirl in his mind. She has an extra bag fastened to her straps, the fuck bag. Not the official name but it only comes out when they are looking to fuck around. Citrus wants to be the one finding out.

Ratchet had insisted not to stay in the ship because of the eclipse, Rook looked a bit disappointed but didn’t fight. He could tell how pent up they are and is eager to feel some of it. Wrapping his fingers around the key, the small spitfire grins and decides to see if he can make the brewing tension a little more fruity.

“So~ Are you going to make me play lookout or can I hop in the saddle?” Citrus purrs while following after Ratchet who walked with purpose. His question catches her mid step, making her pause, “Excuse you?”

Giddy that she wasn’t aware of him knowing of their shenanigans from yesterday, he skips ahead and turns to face her. Red sheathes her weapon and folds her arms at the beaming menace. The unimpressed head tilt has him wiggle in place, “What~? Hard to miss that pretty red ropework he’s wearin’. Gorgeous really, I wanna feel your ropebites one day.”

She bends down and flicks the little sprout on his helmet, “Ok, country boy. What are you looking for, hm?”

That ain’t no no! Excitement bubbles up in his chest, “Oh, I know them well. Ple~ase let me ‘warm you up’ while we wait for ‘em.”

She straightens up, rubbing her chin. He sidles up and hooks a finger in a loop of her coveralls. Not as easy to flirt with as a waistband, but the added challenge excites him. His other hand walks along the seam to the pocket, tugging lightly to give some friction without overstepping. Her helmet turns down towards him, grabbing his wrists firm enough to remove them from her, “Alright~ Might as well see the one that can run my lovely fool ragged in action, hm?”

She takes hold of his straps with one hand and lifts him up to be eye level. Citrus has to bite his tongue to not reveal how hot this is. He can see the lust in her eyes behind the glass, rubbing his thighs together to distract himself. She eyes him for a quiet minute and then nods. In one quick move Ratchet slings him up over her shoulder, hand resting on his ass, “Behave while I find a room.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Ratchet strides along the pipe lined hall as Citrus begins to sing under his breath. At first he stays in his higher range but slowly drops after two or three songs. There's an attempt to keep quiet enough to not distract her, while getting railed in the hallway is hot…it's not safe.

Unfortunately, he gets much too bored to simply continue singing softly. Citrus props himself up and tucks the back of his hand under his chin, “So~ What kinda room do you look fer? We’ve used server rooms, they like gettin’ personal with the wires. Once convinced him in a locker room, but I’m the kinda freak that gets off on the openness.”

She chuckles a little and shakes her head at his words. Rolling her shoulder, red shifts him a bit, “That’s too much space, too exposed and those often have those abyssal holes that make things too precarious. Although, I’ll admit, the suspension opportunities are hard to discount. Wish we had the time for that. They’d look so good strung up like the art he is.”

A little whistle floats from orange, “Oh, like a glass of water on a hot day.”

“Storage rooms have less points of entry and more tie down spots. I want as few doors as possible and not too far from the exit. Going too far in makes them antsy being so far from the ship.”

“True, but man is it hot. Lil’ bit of danger gets the blood pumpin’.”

Ratchet doesn’t respond, her mind elsewhere. Yes, it is a bit more dangerous doing this but it’s Vow. The moon is so low stakes that the two of them never blink twice. Rend or Titan? Never been so brazen, plus Rook gets too wound up to try anything frisky. Too many monsters, can't risk a fatal mistake by fooling around. Plus their sex drive shuts down when Masked could be a problem. Or Jesters…

“To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day~

Hardly spoke to folks around him, didn't have too much to say~

No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip

For the stranger there amongst them had a big iron on his hip

Big iron on his hi~p”

Her shoulder ornament sings while kicking his feet idly. He continues to keep his voice down so she can focus but his low, deep vocals worm its way into her ear. She has a slight misstep as a hair raising shiver runs down her spine. 

“It was early in the morning when he rode into the town

He came riding from the south side slowly lookin' all around~

‘He's an outlaw loose and running’ came the whisper from each lip

And he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip

Big iron on his hip~”

Heat creeps across her chest and into her loins, the little crewmate is playing with fire. The tall woman responds by sneaking her hand under his waistband, squeezing his ass. He grips at her straps with a breathy groan. Keeping him distracted, she peeks into a low lit room. The breaker could be flipped, but Ratchet’s more than capable of seeing everything. In the mild darkness she spies server racks lining the left and back wall as well as four in the middle with a bench pressed against them. Three storage racks and a long bench occupy the other walls, half blocking another door. With a quick scan there is no vent or monsters hiding away. This'll do nicely. She deposits Citrus to his feet with instructions to secure the second door. Turning on his heel, the singer swings the key around his finger while walking to do his task. She scans the room again to get an air sample, it's safe here.

“In this town there lived an outlaw by the name of Texas Red~

Many men had tried to take her and that many men were dead~

She was vicious and a killer though a youth of thirty-five

And the notches on her pistol numbered one and nineteen more

One and nineteen mo~re~”

Ratchet perks up at him changing the lyrics but doesn't stop him, grinning to herself. Oh is she the dangerous outlaw?

“Now the stranger started talking, made it plain to folks around

Was an Arizona Ranger, wouldn't be too long in town~

He came here to take an outlaw back alive or maybe dead

And he said it didn't matter, he was after Texas Red

After Texas Re~d~”

He thinks he’s the ranger, hm? Cute. She clicks her walkie, “Hello my lovely pup. Found a room and if you aren’t quick, the lil’ fruit will get your treat. Be safe.”

There’s a pause but the walkie clicks, a shaky exhale crackles through, “...Yes~ mistress.”

She can hear the lust in those two words. That’s one and now to wrangle the menace. Citrus strolls over with a trill as he continues to sing.

“Wasn't long before the story was relayed to Texas Red~

But the outlaw didn't worry men that tried before were dea~d

Twenty men had tried to take her, twenty men had made a slip

Twenty-one would be the ranger with the big iron on his hip

Big iron on his hi~p~”

He releases his helmet and places it on the storage rack, combing fingers through the matted down hair. It’s hard enough to resist his singing with the helmet on, he knows exactly what he's incurring. Ratchet slowly removes her helmet and waits.

“The morning passed so quickly, it was time for them to me~et

It was twenty past eleven when they walked out in the street~

Folks were watching from the windows, everybody held their breath

They knew this handsome ranger was about to meet his death

About to meet his death~”

She takes her cue and grabs his straps, successfully silencing him. Effortlessly, red lifts him up and pins him to the wall, “Well, well mister ranger~ I don't think you have your big iron to best me with, but I have something you can play with.”

Citrus' face goes pink, stunned for a moment before the biggest grin spreads across his lips. He goes to speak but she leans in, “Now, now. You're in no position to bargain. You've stepped into my turf, you play by my rules.”

His eyes dilate with shameless lust, “Y-yes ma’am.”

The little cowboy remains in his deeper range, continuing to press his luck. Pressing her lips to his ear she breathes, “Keep that up and I'll let them mark up your neck, you know how rough he can get~”

Hands grab onto her wrists as he whines, squirming with that grin still plastered across his face, “Sorry ma’am!”

“And that's mistress to you.” She purrs and places him back on the ground, “Are you ready to play or are you going to scurry on home?”

Citrus licks his lips and chews at his inner cheek, “I know when I've been beat, mistress. What can I do to leave here wit’ mah life?”

There's the green light. She nods and saunters over to the bench, sitting down with legs open, “I’d suggest removing those silver spurs. There’s no dignity for you now.”

Her words break the other for a moment, the lights turning off before he shivers. His tanks are shrugged off with excitement, tucking them away next to the storage rack. Soon his jacket is off and he waits for a bit more instruction, cheeks dusted deep red. One by one she unbuckles her tanks, sliding them off out of the way but holds onto the fuck bag. The little tease has him perking up a bit to spy what is hidden away in the canvas bag. Ratchet does not allow him to sneak a peek, chastising him with a smirk.

“Tsk, tsk. My little ranger, all of them. Well~ save the briefs.” She purrs with a wink, tugging her zipper down. He did not need to be told twice. Orange nearly vibrates out of his clothes, saving of course his underwear. Seeing him in his glory has her give a small crooked smile, slowly pulling her gloves off, “My my, little cowboy~ Now, get over here.”

Citrus takes a few shaky steps forward, “Yes, mistress?”

She catches his chin, bringing him closer, “Not so high and mighty now~ You look mighty heated thinking of what I’m going to do to you. On your knees.”

Making sure the floor is clear first, the near trembling man kneels before her. He says nothing but licks his lips as she slowly unzips her coveralls to her belt. Shrugging out of the arms she flexes a bit and pulls him closer, “I wonder if your mouth is as good as your trigger discipline.”

Red releases his face and he takes the hint, unbuckling her belt and unzipping the last bit. Nuzzling his nose against her inner thigh, he inhales slowly with a little giddy sound. Citrus is in the clouds, rubbing her groin through the fabric, “Mistress, may I show you?”

An eyebrow quirks as a leg lifts and traps him in place, her boot pressing against his ass. Getting the go ahead he slowly pulls her free and marvels at her cock. Stars above, both of you are so pretty~ Lips pepper kisses against the underside of her length, eyes half closing. Sliding his other hand inside her waistband, Citrus cups her velvety sack and palms them gently.

“Careful there~ wouldn't want to take your hand privileges away.” Red breathes, a pair of red cuffs dangling from her right pointer finger. Fuck fuck ffffff~ The humbled cowboy can't help but grind into his thighs, “M-Mistress, I'm pretty slick when it comes to restraints~”

She tilts her head, honey brown eyes watching pensively. Her free hand runs through his hair as he continues, “Ain't no folk managed to hogtie this man-”

Ratchet grips his hair and shoves her cock into that sassy little mouth. He’s lost his speaking privileges, “Be a dear and watch those teeth.”

Citrus' thoughts cease, eyes glazing over as he wraps a hand around her shaft and bobs his head. Her grip eases but remains tangled in his blonde locks, a firm reminder who's in charge. Humming while rolling his tongue has her exhaling slowly with a ‘good boy’. The praise only spurs him on, swallowing around her while twisting his hand.

He must be doing something right as Ratchet exhales a low moan. Pulling his head back to catch his breath, Citrus blinks slowly with a hazy smile. A string of saliva connects his tongue to her tip, finally breaking when he wets his lips. Giving his jaw a small break, he draws his tongue from base to tip. The trapped man's efforts are encouraged by his mistress’s sounds. Her steady gaze reveals very little, but there's an unmistakable fire brewing.

Pulling her underwear lower, Citrus frees her balls and kisses right where they meet the shaft. Ratchet shifts her leg enough to let him use his limbs better. Finally freed up to use his hands, Citrus rubs her inner hips. Red's eyes slide shut, enjoying it for a minute before pulling his mouth closer. He opens up and eagerly swallows her, wet tongue licking along her underside. 

Slowly, she rocks her hips up into that warm mouth. It brings her satisfaction watching him unravel a little bit more every time her cock threatens to slip into his throat, “What a good boy. Come on, ranger~ Get messy because this is all the lube you're going to get.” 

A white lie, but the fervor it sparks in the small man is immediate. He angles his head lower and takes her to the base. She huffs hotly, his throat is tight and resists the invasion at first. She presses on the back of his head, grinding deeper into that inviting wetness. He pulls back with a gasp, mouth salivating over her pulsing shaft. Red just rests her chin on the back of her free hand, “There's some fire.”

A dumb little smile pulls at his face at her smooth words. Licking his lips, Citrus hops back into it. A hand wraps around her base, twisting in time with his mouth. The myriad of sensations have her moaning softly. Ratchet thrusts in time with his head, tangled fingers keeping him on rhythm. The coil inside tightens, but she's far from cumming. 

“Put that loose hand to good use cowboy, touch yourself.” The commanding tone seems to temporarily snap the other out of his daze. He blinks before it clicks and she can feel him shifting under her locked legs. Tilting her head, she spies his knees are spread out more, “There you go, come on now. Get ready for me~ You're gonna take all of this before my partner shows up.”

Blue eyes roll back a touch as eyelids slide closed, shivering a bit. He slowly works her deeper and deeper with his hand twisting in time. Soon little orange has her cock swallowed to the base, hand pressing into her bush. His thumb rubs in circles where her shaft meets balls. Ratchet’s eyes roll back as she exhales heatedly, oh I see why Rook likes you~ Pleased sounds clearly feed his eagerness as he shifts a bit closer to deepthroat better. 

“Oh you~,” Red breathes, watching him take her completely over and over, “That's it, stand up.”

Glazed eyes open and barely focus on her as she releases him from her leg lock. Truly freed he gets up, panting and wiping his mouth. She motions for him to turn around, pulling out lube once his back is turned. Pouring some over herself, “Let's see what your mama gave you, cowboy~”

Citrus slides his underwear down, playfully shaking his ass with a grin. The larger crewmate responds by grabbing hold of his hips and yanking him onto her lap. Her touch has him moaning and shivering, “R-Ratchet!”

Him breaking makes her smile, leaning against his ear, “Aw, are you sensitive here?”

She rubs circles against the bone while nibbling on his earlobe, listening to him fail to not moan. He presses his knees together which tucks her up against his dick. The friction feels delightful, combined with his sounds makes it clear why Rook loves playing with him. Pressing her lips to his neck, Ratchet breathes, “Alright little ranger, ride on it~”

“Yes ma'am~” Orange angles his hips and presses her against his cock, grinding against her hard shaft. She allows him to lift himself up just enough for the tip to press into his hole. Sinking inside the slick warmth has her fan her hands down his thighs, “Oh you naughty little thing~ Didn't I say to call me mistress~?”

Citrus sticks his tongue out, whining out a small apology. He braces his hands against her knees, opening his legs just enough to give himself better leverage. Lifting himself up slowly he grinds and twists his hips. Red keeps him steady as he shifts and adjusts to get a better angle, “Just so you know mmm…ma'am; I ride better facin’ ya.”

“Is that so?” She breathes, not yet doing anything with that information but smirking at his slip up. He's not like Rook, not as disciplined. Citrus pants softly and nods, nails biting into her uniform as he builds a steady rhythm. While he gets lost in being stuffed full, the tall woman checks her watch. Rook should be here soon, he is much faster than the two of them. So what should they walk in on?

Her thoughts are interrupted by her little ranger tightening up on her cock. His insides pulse as he moans and grinds his hips into her lap. He came? Oh~ a bit more sensitive than them. She leans forward and hooks her right arm under his knees, “Trust me not to hurt you?”

“Y-ye~ah! Ye’ yes!” He whines, looking back at her curiously. Thrusting him up off her, Ratchet pulls his shaking legs out from under him. She spins him in her lap, other hand holding firmly around his back. The bewildered man squeaks but never hits the ground, held confidently in her grasp. Giving him a moment to realize she turned his world on its head, red opens his legs so he's straddling again. With a smoothness, she brings him face to face with her, “Hello little ranger.”

Citrus licks his lips, mouth working at words as a shiver rolls from head to toe, the words finally leave like released steam, “Fffff~fuck that was so hot.”

“Rook isn't so easy to do that with but a fun sized little troublemaker like you? Hardly an effort.”

The manic grin that plasters across his flushed face has her exhale a single laugh, “That gettin’ you off? Getting handled by someone stronger than you?”

She leans back and teases his cock, feeling it throb, “Come on, you did say you ride better this way.”

He shifts and brings his knees to her sides, lifting his hips up and guiding her back in. The little spitfire really does live up to that name, he's so warm inside. Citrus' eyes roll back as he bites his lip. Rolling his hips, he shifts a little while obviously enjoying having her balls deep. Deciding to give him some ‘encouragement’, Ratchet slides her hands up to his hips. Blue eyes open and glance down when fingers press against bone but all he does is brace against her wrists. 

Lifting him up just enough to get a full view, she slams up into that tight hole. Her little cowboy inhales as moan, tightening up deliciously. It only takes a few deep thrusts for his hips to start moving. Hands move from her wrists to his own thighs as he builds his rhythm. 

“You weren't lying there little ranger. Might not be on the farm but you're going to milk me, aren't you~” She huffs and grins, lazily watching her shaft slide in and stretch out the eager little crewmate. No words come from him, instead a breathy laugh as he wipes his forehead and runs a hand through his hair. Tan hands slip towards his ass, giving it a playful squeeze. 

Citrus might not be as built as Rook but there's power in his legs and he uses it expertly. Ratchet admires the firm muscles before trailing her hands up to explore her focused rider. Tiny little sounds bubble up while her nails drag up his sides, a full body shudder has him clenching down. Feeling a faint quiver has a sly grin pull at her lips, “Oh~? Are you getting close there, little ranger?”

Her little ranger scoffs breathlessly, letting his head fall back, “Ha aaha , m-maybe but ah don’ tap out that f~ast. I'm not’a one ’n don -aaahha!”  

Ratchet forced him down as she thrusted up, the impact causing his voice to crack as he howled. She decides to not allow him rest, rutting up into that willing body as his legs shake. Shaking hands brace against her chest as he melts on top of her. Red catches the back of his neck and drags him closer, “Go on, you want to cum? I need something a little tighter.”

Eyes roll back for a moment as he bites his lip and nods. He is quick to fill her request, hand sneaking between his legs and circling his hard little cock. The shaking gets more pronounced as moans drip from his lips, “P-Please mark me~ N-Need a li~ttle more.”

“You beg so cutely.” She whispers into his ear, dragging her nails down his chest. Citrus heatedly moans, arching into the other's biting touch. The hand bracing against her chest curls into a fist as his insides pulse around her. He's right on the edge, just needs one final push. Ratchet digs her nails into his hips and drags them slowly down his thighs. 

The small body locks up in her grasp. Citrus' breath hitches before he cries out loud enough that his voice breaks. Feeling him tighten to vice grip only has her grinning. Holding him in place she ruts up into him, balls slapping against his ass. The added stimulation has him screaming and grabbing onto her arms. Blunt nails bite into skin while his body shudders and bucks against her strength. His knees squeeze against her sides but do little to stop her loud thrusts.

Stars dance behind Citrus' eyes, near delirious from the intense bliss. Thoughts, words and fears cease briefly, letting him wholly enjoy his orgasmic high. Too lost in the clouds, he misses her beginning to move. Arms hook under his knees and orange instinctively wraps his arms around her neck. 

Suddenly there's no ground, legs kick out a second to confirm. That concern melts away against warm skin as she thrusts into him, his body bouncing in time. Nails rake at her shoulders, “F-fallin’..!”

“I got you little cowboy~” She huffs, “Now, I'm going to make you scream, would you like that~?” 

Her voice brushes against his ears like velvet, “Oh~ Yes please~”

“Yes please,” She leans in, lips brushing against his neck, “yes please, wh~at?”

A breathy moan follows the grin he can't hide, “Ma…Mistress.”

“Looks like I'll make an obedient little ranger out of you yet.” 

Before he could possibly quip back at her, Ratchet presses him to the wall. The pinned man gives a little chirp of cold shock, something that pulls a grin from her. He's cute and scratches a very interesting spot in her head. No wonder Rook can barely resist him. Little minx.  

“Oh, mis~tress. You'll find I ain't so easily trained. I… hah… I just, fffuck!” His head falls against the wall as she grinds into his aching hole, “I~ah, just wan~ t to have a good time!”

“A good time? I think I can ensure that.” Ratchet purrs, leaving lipstick kisses on his neck. She hopes he won't notice until back on the ship. Every thrust coaxes more moans out of her zesty little crewmate which only encourages her further, “You’d look so cute in a collar, wonder if they'll let you borrow theirs. I'm sure I have a spare he'd happily give up.”

She can feel him shiver, “Aw, you like a chatty partner, hm? Well. I like hearing those under me moan so don't you keep that to yourself, little ranger.”

Legs squeeze against her arms as fingers tangle up in her shirt. The dazed yet feral look in his eyes has her rhythm falter for only a beat. He clearly feeds off the energy of his partner, matching intensity with ease. That hunger has her stiffen, he just might make her cum. Licking her lips and giving a low laugh, “Think he'd be mad if I came in you?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but she shushes him, “Just think, they were forbidden to cum and here you are; not only cumming. what~? three times yourself but also getting me to cum?”

Citrus glances off to the side for a moment, confusion painted on his expression. Her math isn't off. She's going to make sure it's not wrong. Pressing him harder into the wall she growls, “Think he'd lose his mind. So. You want me to cum in you? Make you show off what you stole from them?”

Each question is punctuated with a hard and deep thrust, making him claw desperately at her back. He bites his lip before giving up and moaning heatedly, “Yes! Yesyesyes! Plea~se! Mistress!”

“Well, you first.”

Ratchet hooks his knees onto her shoulders and grabs his ass. The change in angle has Citrus cling to her like a lifeline, legs wrapping around her neck. Her own nails drag across his skin, leaving welts in their wake. Breathy moans break into high pitched cries of incoherent begging. She softly growls against his throat, “I gotcha space ranger, come on~ Clock is ticking, Rook could be here any minute.”

He whines and holds onto her tightly before moving his hand between them. The trembling starts building with each thrust, “You’re so quiet, I thought you’d sing~”

“R-Really?” Citrus gasps, tongue peeking past his teeth. Ratchet grinds into him, teasing him ruthlessly. His eyes roll back and he finally breaks, his moans dropping lower and deeper. A haze wreaths in her mind, an itch developing in her brain. She rolls her eyes with heated lust, exhaling like she caught a scent and craves more. Enthralled, she presses him harder against the wall, trying to make them one as his song drives her crazy. His needy pleas melt into the background as red’s mind can only focus on her own end, huffing in frustration, “You better cum, Citrus~”

Orange tenses up, muscles pulsing as he begins screaming. His back arches off the wall as his inner walls becomes a delicious vice grip, “There you go~”

Her legs shake with the building wave, fingers digging into soft skin. The little man isn’t going to be dropped, she has a good hold on him. Expletives slip past her teeth with each panting breath, he feels too good. She slams up and grunts, the wave finally breaking. Hitched, sharp breathing matches every shallow thrust as she pumps ropes of white deep inside her little crewmate. Every ball tensing pulse has one thought repeating over and over in her mind; Get pregnant.

The release has her near purring, grinding deep. Citrus' head falls forward and hides up under her chin, “You've been pent up~”

She puffs a rogue lock of hair out of her face, “You bring out something primal there. Careful with that little songbird…” With a sigh she steps back, adjusting so he doesn't slip, “Hold onto me.”

He listens, shaking limbs holding on tightly as she turns towards the bench. Crouching down she deposits him on it gently, “Feeling alright?”

He grins and nods excitedly, “Th~at was so fucking hot. I ain't normally so quick to behave.”

Ratchet smirks, “I've seen what you've done to them, feral little thing you are. Lucky he heals quick.”

“Yeah, I give back what I take and he gets so feral. It's fantastic~ Some of the best stress relief.” He chuckles while running a hand through his hair, “You ok there? I've left folks disoriented after going that low.”

He glances down with a smirk, “Looks like I ain't the only one who can keep going.”

Ratchet places a hand on her hip as she fixes her underwear and pants, “They're a greedy fiend and I've always had the stamina and patience. You, however, are a pest.”

He grins with a snicker, leaning back and wiggling his hips, “A pest you turned into a dessert~ Not complaining in any way.”

Ratchet shakes her head but perks as the door opens, seeing a familiar purple color. Citrus doesn't notice, head tilted back and humming to himself. Rook stops misstep taking in the situation. She can see how hard he grips the doorknob. 

Before he makes their smallest aware of their presence, she silently steps closer with a finger to her lips. His helmet moves to stare at her, signing a simple question.

“I didn't miss out, right?”

Taking hold of his straps, she removes his helmet quietly while pressing her lips to his ear, “Why don't you make yourself known.”

She nibbles around his earring and feels him stiffen with a shiver. The darkness that overtakes his face has her grinning. They look so cute and all ready to join in. With her instruction, Rook slips out of his tanks and silently approaches the unaware little fruit. She locks down the door, an audible smirk aimed towards Citrus as he squeaks in shock, “R-Rook?! You snake!”

Chapter Text

“Says the cocksure cowboy~” They growl with a tight grin from between his legs. Citrus pushes at his head but Rook pulls him closer with a low pointed laugh. Ratchet ties her coveralls around her waist and goes about making sure they're as secure as possible. The last thing she needs to deal with is an unexpected fourth.

Rook wastes no time with getting into it, lightly biting Citrus' inner thighs. The stuffed man squeezes his knees together but his efforts are blocked by purple clad shoulders. Lips dance all the way between shaky legs, breath fanning across a mop of dusty brown bush. Using his teeth, Rook removes their gloves and trails fingertips through the soft fluff. They smirk a bit, puffing hot breath against a hard little tdick.

“You trimmed recently? Very nice~ About the only thing tidy here.” They tease, tongue flicking out across the engorged tip. Orange bites his lip, but it does little to hide the manic grin spreading from ear to ear, “Well, you know me~ Gotta be cleaned up sometimes.”

“Good, because I'm going to leave you not knowing which way is up after what you tried yesterday.”

A little smugness finally gets wiped off Citrus' face, oh no consequences. Blue eyes flit towards the one in charge who looks suddenly very curious. The small nervous yet playful laugh only spurs the dangerously close man to continue, “Trying to get me into trouble. Too observant for his own good I'd say, mistress~”

Green eyes drag over towards Big Red with a look of adoration, waiting for her instruction. Ratchet crosses her arms, “My, my little ranger~ You've really invited all sorts of trouble your way. Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

Citrus was going to refute her but his words slosh into a stunned gasp as Rook buries his face in his bush. He grabs hold of their hair and tries to push him off, “Y-you sneak! Ooo~ Ro~ok~”

Eyes roll back which makes purple exhale a single laugh before circling his tongue around his dick. Ratchet kneels behind them, hands wrapping around his chest. Dexterous fingers unzip his jacket and sneak under white fabric, “Oh you still have your harness on, eh partner~? Good boy. So obedient.”

Rook merely hums in acknowledgment, drawing his tongue from hole to tip. They shrug out their jacket and let go of the squirming dreamsicle so it can be removed. Grabbing the back of his shirt it comes off in one practiced flourish. Citrus scoots back and playfully tries to off balance them with his foot. Instead his limb is grabbed and warm fingers rub slowly up his calf. Purple watches the country boy melt like butter, moaning heatedly.

“Get back here, little siren.” They purr, trailing fingertips down his thighs before ensnaring him by the hips, “I'm just getting started.”

There's a mischievous glint in those green eyes that only fans the flames deep inside Citrus, “I'm hopin’ so. Wouldn't want you caught talkin’ big game..”

Without thinking, he crosses his ankles behind their head. Rook reflexively pulls away, but can't break free before their face is pushed back into the soft, southern bush, “..only t’choke!”

It doesn't seem to be effective as Rook eagerly dips his tongue inside. Citrus chews on the inside of his cheek and lets his head fall back, “Y-ya thievin’ rascal~”

Ratchet watches, palming herself idly, before stepping aside to open the bag. Collar, lube, gloves and a small tin. Wish that damn harness would show up soon. Casting her gaze towards the two as Rook snarls, red watches them drag the giggling man halfway off the bench, “Hey kid, you looking to get high?”

Barely visible eyes glance over with raised eyebrows but they don't respond verbally, merely giving thumbs up before doing something that has their ambitious bottom moaning heatedly. She nods, giving a ‘carry on’ motion while opening the tin. It contains a few smoking instruments, only one is Company provided as the majority are ‘under the table’ varieties. There's two that he both likes and recovers from quickly enough. The rest she uses during longer down time so not going to use any of those.

Checking the time she decides on the pink glass-like pen. ‘Pen’ was what she decided to call it as its actual name is too difficult for mammalian tongues to pronounce. A strange little instrument that puzzles her mechanic brain as she's never had to refill it and it doesn't seem to have a power source. It is pretty though, shimmering in the dim light as if stars were trapped inside it. The hand held end feels warm in her palm.

Red drags her thumb nail up the thin ridges, making it zip like an angry frog. The distinct sound has her pup lift his head with intrigue. He returns to his task when waved off, earning a mewling moan of their name. She picks up the collar and strides towards them, settling behind Rook once more. Casually leaning over his back, she purrs, “He's so good with his tongue isn't he~?”

“Y-yis m~istress!” Citrus slurs breathlessly, legs shaking in the middle’s grasp. Ratchet clicks her tongue, “Going to cum again little ranger? I suppose we should keep you and see how long you last~”

She words snake against his mind as his jaw goes slack. Suddenly Citrus sharply inhales and arches off the bench. Red is quick, slapping a hand over his mouth just before he starts screaming. Blue eyes roll back while fighting both of their holds, “Yeah, ride that lightning~”

Blunt nails scratch at her arms as his body spasms in rolling pleasure. His screams and moans locked behind her hand barely break orange's crashing orgasm. Rook pins his hips down even with the overstimulated bucks and squeezing knees. Having both their undivided attention only heightens his mind melting ecstasy.

Slowly his body stops squirming, falling limply on the bench. Ratchet releases his mouth with a smirk, listening to him pant and mewl in bliss. With a prod, Rook releases him entirely and sits back. Their face is a right mess but there's not a shred of regret, in fact he's grinning up at her.

“Good pup, let me clean that cute face. Don't need your collar smelling like all of us.” She whispers and pulls a rag from her pocket. Resting a hand under his chin, Ratchet holds his head back against her chest. He doesn't resist such a vulnerable position, eyes glazed over with infatuation. Finishing up with a kiss on those mildly bruised lips, she replaces her hand with his collar.

His demeanor changes rapidly, limbs relaxing as he leans into her. Closing it on the same hole as always, she ensures their hair isn't caught, “Such a pretty thing, you alright there cowboy?”

A shaking hand lifts into the air with a pointed thumbs up before flopping back down. Lightly rubbing Citrus' belly, Ratchet purrs, “Go~od, you recharge while I'll be dealing with-” She pulls Rook back to rest flush against herself, “Hello there lovely~”

That lazy grin never leaves their face, now framed by a dark blush. Tucking back a few locks with care, she shows off the pen. The delight that overtakes the passiveness is immediate as they try to sit up more but is held firm. She gives a small click of the tongue, “No, no. You'll take it how I give it. Open up~”

Lips part without hesitation and she places the open end delicately between his teeth, “Deep breath.”

The pen glows faintly in her hand as he inhales slowly, eyes never wavering from her gaze. It's placed aside once he has a proper lung full, earning him a small forehead kiss. They reach back and rub her hips, palms still so warm. Her free hand sneaks around his waist and unbuckles his belt. Fingers dip under their waistband and run through curls, ghosting tantalizingly close to firm heat. They make the tiniest sound at the teasing touch, smoke falling like fog from his nose.

Turning his head away from either of them he exhales with a whistle. The leftover vapor shimmers strangely before dissipating into the murky light. Ratchet watches him carefully, his eyes relax and dilate as the high hits. With a slow, deep breath a hazy smile tugs at his lips.

“There you go, all those thoughts gone quiet?” She breathes heatedly into his ear while lightly scratching under his chin. A sluggish, tilted nod is their answer. Her nails drag down his chest, earning a gasping mewl. Shivering fingers grip onto her hips, lightly biting into flesh. Citrus had peeled himself off the bench at her question and was watching curiously.

“So my little pup, how does me fucking you while you fuck our little ranger here sound? Would you like that~?” Her words are like satin against their ears but her question has Rook break out of the fog for a flickering second. Eyes flit towards the small, flushed body in front of him. Heat rakes up their back and plunges deep into his core. Biting his lip and straining against the back of his zipper, purple whines, “Y~es mistress!”

His enthusiasm is rewarded with Ratchet wrapping her fingers around his base and letting him grind into her touch. Her other hand fully freeing him as her chin rests on their shoulder. Both boys seem to wait for her command, one at her mercy the other drinking in the sight. Deciding what to do next came easily while pumping her hand achingly slow.

“That idea makes you so hard. Good. Hey, little ranger~ you're going to suck on this-”, She gives Rook a small squeeze in emphasis, “-while I'm getting him ready for me.”

Citrus wipes his mouth a bit, partly to hide his lusty grin and to clean away the evidence that he is drooling in excitement, “Yes ma’am.”

Rook stiffens and pulls his head towards the other, the slip up was not unnoticed. She shakes her head, tsking with a smirk, “Rooky Roo what are we gonna do about this disrespectful little ranger~ I think he's lost talking privileges, don't you?”

Rook licks his lips and grins with a dangerous glint in his eyes, a low purring laugh floating up from their throat. Ratchet removes her hands from him and whispers, “Get him.”

Citrus' eyes widen as he is pounced on and pinned by the bigger man. He shivers with prey-like delight, drinking in the darker expression on his captors face. The attempt to speak is thwarted by a dual toned hand clamping over his mouth, “Mistress said no talking~”

Goosebumps crawl up orange's arms. Their voice is flatter, yet has a sharp edge that makes him want to push his luck. Being so close he can see a faint glow in Rook's eyes, it's barely visible but with the room being dark enough he notices. The air of a predator wreathed around purple just drives him crazy, hand grabbing onto his collar and yanking him closer. Freeing his mouth, Citrus hungrily kisses Rook just to taste that feral beast.

With her pup keeping the third busy in his own way, she pulls Rook's pants to his ankles. They barely acknowledge her, shifting to make it easier for her to undress him. Red finds her lips ghosting over the vanilla patches along his lower back. Teeth lightly bite his ass which elicits a low sound, Citrus gasping and whining wordlessly under him. Too bad the little heart shaped spot on their side is tucked away, it's so sensitive.

Ratchet pulls a pair of black nitrile gloves out of the bag. After enduring lube on her hands for a whole mission, she is never without them. That’s a mistake she's only made once. With both on she ensures her nails won't cut through the thin material. Cupping his ass she smirks, watching him keep the smallest man in line while attacking his neck, “Careful with him, those will be noticeable.”

There's a grunt and Rook shifts lower, hand clamping over a panting grin. Popping the cap off the lube, Ratchet pours plenty over her fingers and his hole. He jolts from the temperature but leans back into her hands, “Eager for me huh, pretty thing?”

She circles the puckered hole once, twice and then slides a finger inside. Rook shivers and bites his little cowboy’s collarbone. Citrus moans loudly from behind their hand and pulls on his hair in retaliation. Ratchet adds in a second and rubs along the smooth insides, “He certainly is feisty with you~ Make him put that mouth to good use.”

She hooks her arm around their hips and drags her pup back. He doesn't let go of Citrus and the smallest ends up sliding off the bench. Moving quickly Ratchet pulls Rook back by the collar while grinding her fingers down. Their eyes roll back with a caught moan, softly growling at being pulled off. Orange sits up and gets on his knees to feel heated skin. He remains quiet but clearly loves this.

“Get to sucking little cowboy~” Red purrs while Rook tangles their fingers into blonde locks. He pushes his face against the mop of curls, glancing down with a smirk when blue eyes meet theirs. Playfully rolling his eyes and adjusting Rook's grip, Citrus takes hold of his length. He draws his tongue along the side and looks up at both of them with a soft pleading look. A gloved thumb rubs against his lip and hooks under his tongue, “Take it all~”

He shivers with a hazy blush, opening his mouth with a tiniest whine. Rook breathes a soft ‘good boy' before sliding past his teeth. She releases peachy lips and refocuses on stretching her boy out, “That's it~ Keep him busy Roo.”

Rook huffs and thrusts into that willing throat, not letting him pull back completely. Red runs her hand over the expanse of dark skin, tracing that heart shaped patch of sensitivity. He whines and bucks under her expert touch, “M-Mistress~”

“Yes dear? You look so cute sandwiched between us, you like being in the middle? Melting under me and pooling,” she grabs his wrist to force Citrus to take him to the hilt, “deep in this cute mouth~”

Blue eyes roll back and jaw goes a bit slack. Her words have a similar effect on her pup, head falling back against her shoulder, “Y…yes~ Mistress!”

Purple rocks his hips, whining wordlessly. Red doesn't know if they’ve had to switch sides like this before but she loves seeing their switch breaking this badly. Their little cowboy chokes and taps at her arm, she releases Rook who lets him pull back with a wet gasp. Tears drip from glazed eyes before he shakes his head and grins up at them.

“Still good?” She whispers, checking in while ruthlessly teasing Rook's inner buttons. The man’s thighs shake, heels bumping against her calves. Lips part with heated panting, tongue slipping just past his teeth yet no sound breaks free yet.

Orange gives a small thumbs up and takes the pulsing shaft back into his mouth. That added sensation has purple bracing against the bench with a breathless moan. Feet squirm and cross at the ankles while he tries not to roughly grab soft hair. Instead, nails gouge lines into the old wood, “Ffff~Fuck! Pl-please Mistress! Please please please.”

A slow knowing grin tugs at her lips as she presses her cheek against their neck, breath tickling his ear, “Please what?”

“I w~ant to cum. Please!” Rook's words devolve into mush when she presses down into the smooth heat. Her thumb rubs circles against their perineum, listening to him growl and grunt while eyes roll back. A hand snakes under their arm and hooks onto their collar. She yanks on it roughly, forcing him to lock up or collapse onto Citrus. He sharply inhales head falling forward as she whispers into his ear, too low for the other to hear, “You have been so good for me haven't you~? I want you to cum right down that cute throat that's drooling al~l over you~”

Rook huffs hotly, eyes flashing brightly for a split second. Each breath is louder and more ragged than last while their lip pulls back into a half scowl. Caving into his urges, hands tangle into soft hair and pin Citrus' peachy nose to dark curls. A breathless cry has them throwing their head back, pupils disappearing behind eyelids. The euphoric release drowns him hard and fast as his tongue lolls past his teeth. The tension deep in his guts snaps and they pump thick ropes deep into that ravenous hole. The world fades briefly as he grinds into the tight heat. Stars dance behind his eyes, “F-Fuuu~cK~!”

Citrus takes the lapse in his strength to pull free, coughing and gasping wetly. Tears run down his cheeks but a goofy smile never leaves his lips, “You were pent up, sugar~”

Rook mumbles an apology and just sags onto him, panting and pressing his forehead against a sweaty shoulder. They nuzzle up into his neck, purring softly, “Give…gimme a minute.”

Ratchet gives him a kiss on the side of the head, “Good boy~ Have some water, both of you.”

She passes her canteen to them while beginning to remove her fingers from her pup’s hole. They give a little whine, begging for her not to stop. Shaking her head, “You need a small breather my lovely fool. Don't worry, next thing inside you will be filling~”

He just bites his lip and looks at her hopefully, silently taking the offered water. Untangling herself from them, red steps away to check the doors. Two sets of eyes watch her, neither capable of helping, curious if they're still in the clear. She keeps to the edges of the glass, monsters have better dark vision than she, peering out cautiously. The murky darkness is broken by an occasional light beating it back with the sickly yellow glow. From her vantage point nothing is revealed other than a Hoarder scuttling further down the hallway around a large Hygrodere.

Still clear.

Strolling back over she finds Citrus ensnared Rook’s lap. A hand moves between them, making the bigger man grunt as her pup gives him little bites along the shoulders. The tiny sounds coming from the smallest after each bite are downright adorable. Red hooks a gloved finger on their collar and tugs hard enough for his attention, “I thought I said to take a breather.”

“I am, Mistress~” He answers with ‘innocent’ eyes before going back to giving the little bites. Ratchet tsks, “I see why you two go at each other so often.”

She runs the dry glove through Citrus' hair and yanks his head back, “You’re a glutton for punishment aren't ‘cha?”

He gives a surprised moan, ending in a shaky exhale, “I-Ah ain't made of gl-ass, ma’am. Fff-ffuck.”

Rook gives a low flat laugh that doesn't leave his throat, watching Ratchet steadily. These two, as exciting together as potassium and water. She chuckles and leans in close to orange, “They like when you play with his ears, just be careful when giving him bites~”

The devious glint she activates in those wide blue eyes pulls a smirk from herself. Oh, I'm so sorry, lovely. He'll use that for evil~ Giving him a small head pat, she turns her attention to her pretty pup. They are watching her and perks up a bit when she grins and licks her lips, “Ready for me Roo?”

He sits up straighter and nods, “Yes Mistress!”

She motions for them to continue while getting the lube. Noting the cuffs that had been abandoned, she gets a wonderful idea. A sharp gasp breaks her thoughts, brown eyes glance over to take in the scene. Rook has Citrus pinned under him. They've easily managed to trap both arms above his head with one hand and is frotting against him. Orange is flustered and squirming, attempting to angle his hips in a way for more friction or to slip him inside.

Seeing her opportunity, Ratchet strides over and takes hold of one wrist. Her pup relinquishes his hold as she fastens the cuff to their zesty captive. Said captive only gets a single syllable of confused protest before moaning heatedly. It takes no time at all for her to have him cuffed to the bench, “There, can't escape now.”

“Haaahn, why n~ow? A-ah, ya cheeky-!” His complaining is swiftly silenced by purple grabbing his hips and grinding in deep. He clicks his teeth together with a slow intake, cussing under breath. Having unfettered access to the peachy expanse of skin, Rook gives him some well earned stripes. Knees squeeze against their sides, heels kicking against his back, “N~o fair!”

“You lost the duel little ranger. Got to deal with the consequences~” She purrs while trailing a single finger down her pup's spine. Goosebumps spread across dark skin before they shiver and grab onto sensitive hips. Settling behind them she pulls her underwear down just enough to be out of the way. Even neglecting attention to herself, it doesn't take long to get hard listening to those two.

Pouring a liberal amount to lube over herself, she presses the tip to their prepped hole. Rook stops moving, perking up at the sensation. He gives a small sound, glancing back with a hungry look. She gives him a small smack on the ass before adding more lube to his hole, “Eyes forward, you will only get to feel this.”

The shuddering ‘yes mistress’ is music to her ears as they turn away. He is nearly vibrating in anticipation, hips twitching back against her hard tip. Placing a firm hand on the small of his back, red slowly presses inside. His head falls forward, breathing out little needy pleas for her to be rough but she ignores it. The tight ring reflexively clenches and keeps her out, “Pup, you're too excited. Calm down and let me in~”

Pulling a glove off, she drags her nails up his spine. He arches into her touch, moaning and growling but his muscles relax. With a low ‘good boy' she sinks inside, he's so warm. A little furnace her Roo is. Exhaling slowly and giving shallow thrusts, she adds a little extra lube before he loses his mind, “You like this, Roo?”

“Moons above!” He groans, head rolling as they deal with the onslaught of sensations, “Fuuuuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

They are gripping onto Citrus tightly, keening and squirming. She knows he's overstimulated and is trying to expel the sudden energy, “Ju~st don't leave a mark that could be visible on our little ranger.”

With permission he drops and bites roughly onto the previously grinning man. Orange cries out from the pain and pulls on the cuffs in an attempt to get him back. The yelp devolves into a listless moan with her pup growling and thrusting into him. The bite ends as purple falls apart fucking himself while needily rutting into the body beneath him, “M~istress!”

Ratchet hooks her fingers onto his harness and pulls him just off the other, holding him in place firmly. They'll leave Citrus looking like he got into a brawl if left unchecked. Slowly working herself deeper with each thrust, she feels him pulling against her restraint with a low moan, “Now, now, be good for me, pup and stay.”

Rook whines and rolls their head against her grasp. To feel her sinking in and being inside Citrus was frying his stoned brain. He pushes up onto his knees and drags their nails down their chest to distract from the feeling. Ratchet pulls him back so his shoulders rest against her chest, “Easy Roo, you're being so good taking my cock. I need you to take de~ep breath.”

It takes a few shallow breaths for her pup to obey, but when they inhale she thrusts all the way to the hilt. Rook's eyes roll back, breath hitching with gasping little moans. Ratchet can feel his inner muscles pulse around her, “Go~od boy, see? You took it all beautifully. How's the view down there cowboy?”

Citrus hadn't taken his eyes off the other, drinking in the display, blinking at being addressed, “Oh? That was hawt ma-mistress. I can feel how hard they got inside.”

He glances down between them, biting his lip from the sensation, “I see why yer in charge~ He just melts under yer control.”

He wiggles his hips to tease purple which seems to break them out of the daze they're in. Blinking and looking down, Rook gives a low growl as a grin spreads across his face. The fruity little cowboy might be biting off more than he can handle. Unperturbed by the menacing grin, Citrus just chuffs, “I'm all tied up, yet yer the one stuck~ Come on, yer really that wrapped ‘round her finger?”

She smirks and lets the collar go to see just what her sex drunk fool will do. Rook drops down, hands resting on either side of pink tinted ears. The slight widening of blue eyes has her give a throat deep chuckle. Checking the slickness, she grinds into that deep heat with a purring grunt.

Purple trails his mouth over flushed skin with a threat of teeth. When she grinds into him they can't help but moan and bite onto Citrus just above the left chest scar. A yipping gasp is followed by the smallest squeezing his sides, “Don' just mark me up! Fu-~!”

Rook covers his mouth with a little ‘sssh’, eyes rolling for a moment as he figures out his body. Shifting a little, he rocks his hips into the impatient hole. Shivers lace up his spine and it takes an effort to keep himself from locking up from mind melting pleasure. He's both full and filling, it's almost too much.

Hissing under their breath, he picks a steady pace. Little moans encourage him further as his little cowboy wriggles each time he bottoms out. Ratchet leans closer, whispering things he can no longer understand but the tugging on his harness has him panting.

Nails drag over brown skin, eliciting sharp mewls from the middle that then has their bottom pulling at his restraints. She knows he'll cum before she will, in fact she's impressed he didn't just break immediately. Maybe next time I won't let him cum.

Slurred needy sounds drip from parted lips before something in his mind flips. Green eyes slowly look down at the pretty mess. A strangely steady hand releases his mouth and pets his face. Citrus raises an eyebrow but isn't put off by the change, “Come on~ Gimme a kiss.”

Warm lips meet his with a passion, holding onto his face. Danger and iron dance on his tongue but orange only craves more. A little snarling yip is his reward for biting lightly on Rook's upper lip, in turn earning a long scratch of blunt nails. He can hear red chastise them but heeds no warning. He wants to see the other pushed to their limit.

Ratchet grabs onto the red rope and slams into her pup, he jolts and cries out as the force pushes him to the hilt inside their third. A sharp ‘fuck’ has him pulling orange more into his lap. The cuffs clang getting pulled taunt, Citrus gripping onto the bench leg. Rook digs his thumbs into soft skin, incoherent words of two different languages falling from his mouth.

“I can only understand half of that lovely.” Lips press against his sweat covered skin, “You don't have to stay still if you don't want to~”

She lays her head between their shoulders, purring, “I want you to fuck yourself while railing him.”

They don't respond right away, shifting to look back at her. His dilated eyes glow faintly in the dim light. There's no attempt to hide his euphoria, she leans up and kisses his cheek, "Such a good boy. Now, destroy that little twink. Go on, you know he can take it.”

Hearing that command is all they need, refocusing on the bound man with reinvigorated fervor. Citrus can only chuckle with a bit of nervousness having their undivided attention. He opens his mouth but all that pours out is heated moans as Rook ruts into him. If he was going to try and talk himself out of the retribution his goading brought, the words never come. A shame really, she wanted to see him try.

Dual toned hands grip onto wiggling hips and slam inside, eyes sliding closed with a groan. They work up a hard yet slower pace so Ratchet doesn't slip out, she responds by inching closer. With Citrus completely pinned, purple doesn't have to worry about him wiggling away.

Every gasp, moan and whispered cuss only fuels the fire in Rook's mind. He's starting to come down from the high, gummed gears finally moving. Ratchet, however, doesn't allow them to dwell on any one thought, rolling her hips in time with his.

Their head falls forward with a growled expletive, teeth pressing against mildly bruised skin. His captive makes a small sound and it has him threaten another bite while dragging his nails down shivering thighs. His aggression is rewarded with a whimpering moan, sounds growing louder from the other. The little cowboy’s legs won't stop shaking, hands gripping the bench support so tightly his knuckles turn white. Rook can feel his inner walls pulsing on his length. He's about to break.

His right hand sneaks between them, circling his hard tdick. Citrus grinds into his hand, whining loudly. They lean in close and breathe hotly at his throat, tongue barely ghosting across glistening skin, “You best cum, cowboy~”

“F-ck!” Citrus arches against him and screams, voice cracking delightfully as he cums on their cock. Muscles tighten deliciously around him as purple pins thrashing hips against his own. Blue eyes disappear behind half closed lids, his tongue lolling past his teeth. Arms pull at his cuffs, reaching for something to brace onto. He can only hold onto the bench once more.

Rook releases a shuddering groan, he's so tight now it's pulling him rapidly towards the edge. The building tension has their legs shaking, grunting and movement growing sloppy. He feels lips brush against his heated ear, “Oh my pup, are you going to cum? Best not make a mess~”

Red's voice is followed by a light bite of teeth dragging down the edge of his ear. The slight tug of his earring alights his nerves all the way to his toes. She snickers as their form trembles with overwhelming desire, retreating away as if she wasn't twisting up his insides.

Needing something more to push himself over Rook reaches up, fingers almost not cooperating as he unclips Citrus’ right wrist. Finally released, the bullied bottom strikes back. Arms wrap around broad shoulders as nails rake down his unmarked back. Jittery digits find purchase on their harness and pull them in close. Lips meet with exhausted desire and breathless whines, but break quickly, the sex drunk cowboy cussing under his breath.

Before Rook can register what was said, teeth find their left shoulder and bite down hard. His head snaps back with a raging snarl, eyes flashing dangerously. A firm force grabs hold of their collar preventing him from retaliating, commanding hips keep his thrusting. Citrus claws at his back, clearly egging him on, yet he’s prevented from biting back. Ratchet breathes a low warning, “Don't leave marks, ok Roo?”

He grunts out breathlessly, “Pl-ease Mistress, please I'm s-so close.”

The plea ends in a needy mewl, hips grinding deep into the quivering form under him. Ratchet's hold on his collar eases slowly until he is simply let go. There's a pause where only the sound of muffled panting is heard. The moment passes as Rook lowers his head close to Citrus’ shoulder, drawing his tongue over flushed, salt tinged skin.

He then returns the favor to the smaller man. At first his teeth drag against flesh, only teasing a bite. He then gives an airy hiss and clamps jaws around hot skin. A gasping, whining moan from the pain is all Citrus can manage. Feeling his prey quivering and clinging to him like a lifeline has that tight coil finally break.

A throat deep growl builds as each thrust feels hotter than the last. Blood rushes past his ears as he falls into oblivion. Purple snarls around the skin caught in his teeth, eyes rolling back. Nails bite into soft hips as he pumps ropes deep inside their squeaky chew toy. Stars dance behind their eyes, forehead pressed against Citrus' collarbone. Said man makes tiny whines, arms falling limply away.

Spent and riding the high, purple has no strength to resist his mistress pulling him back into her thrusts. The little ranger barely complains having them unceremoniously removed so suddenly, too gone to do much but whine at the loss. She pulls out and adds more lube to them both, teasing his hole before pressing back inside. The added slickness has her hitting deeper inside.

Red grabs hold of the harness, keeping the pliant body pressed back against her hips with every heavy thrust, “S-such a good boy~ You did such a good job. hah, wrecking our little ranger there~”

Her words are wispy, sweat dripping onto his heated back. The sting from salt finding the scratches left behind only has her pup moaning louder. She gives them a light smack on the ass, “You love when a girl fucks you, hm?”

“Y-yes! Yesyesyes, please Mistress!” Desperate desire drips off every slurred word. Eyes too rolled back to see and with mind too scrambled to do much more than beg, Rook's an absolute mess. She is abusing his inner buttons and has him leaking like a faucet, unable to cum again so soon. He wants to feel her cum, to be held down and shown just how good they've been. Their words come out unintelligible, although the neediness is not lost. Ratchet chuckles, scratching under his chin, “I'm sorry Roo, I need you to use words I can understand.”

“Pleeease, please cum in me~ Fuuu-ck! Please Mistress~!” He whines and presses back as best they can into her thrusts. A shiver runs over her form at their pleas, “Aw, kid~ You beg so good~”

Taking a minute to adjust, she nudges his knees together between her legs. Ratchet then roughly pushes purple down until his chest is in Citrus’ lap. He holds onto the other as she slams into him, moaning and begging incoherently. Her hand grabs onto the rope closest to his neck, pinning him in place.

Fire in her muscles has Ratchet change positions, planting a boot down. The change in leverage eases the burn but has Rook tightening up. Her free hand reaches under their belly and cups their sack. Her pup sucks in sharply and grinds into her touch while remaining soft. Grunting pants spill from her lips, “Fuck kid, you f-feel so damn good~ Hah hah haaaa-aaah!”

Her words end with a guttural cry, hilting in deep and pulling him into each little thrust. They shiver and pulse around her length, drawing out her bliss. Red presses in hard, holding his harness firmly as balls nestle up against his, “Oooh~ Roo you know how to drain me, damn~”

Rook can only make small sounds, tongue lolling while drooling all over the squeaky little crewmate. Ratchet pants softly, heart thudding heavily in her chest. Hands wander across the sweat drenched skin, idly settling between his legs. Staying hilted for a minute longer she coaxes Rook up gently. It takes a try or two for him to get steady, earning a little scratch under the chin, “Such a good pup, you did so well. Let me get that off you.”

Slowly pulling out, she undoes his collar. It's placed aside while she tenderly rubs their neck. Her euphoric drunk fool drinks up her attention happily, leaning into her touch. Next the harness is undone, lips kissing each rope mark, “You really do look good with my marks on you.”

Letting him lay down on the still trembling fruit, red takes off the cuffs with the same gentleness. With both released the scene ends. She pets their heads and sighs, “I've never seen either of you so still.”

There's no reply from either, only low groans of acknowledgment. She tossed the second glove away while cleaning off. Cupping Rook's cheek, red carefully opens one of their eyes. Not even a hint of glowing. Proud that she could quiet his mind, purring sweetly, “Head nice and quiet, lovely?”

They smile and nod, nuzzling into her palm. She glances up to check in on the smallest crewmate. He's still half gone, eyes a bit more visible but blissed out, “You're cute like this, I'm sure it's not forever.”

A little flat laugh comes from the puddle that is orange which has Rook snuggle up against him more. Just need to blow their minds for them to calm down, how similar. Thinking quietly and lightly running her fingers through locs, Ratchet misses green eyes watching her.

A dual toned hand shakily reaches up and caresses her cheek, Rook shifting to look up at her. He blinks sluggishly, “That felt….real good~”

Citrus nods but doesn't verbally agree, eyes still roll halfway back. A smile tugs at her lips as she takes hold of the warm palm, “You both were amazing. Yeah snuggle up and take a breather. Here, water.”

She passes her canteen after swallowing her own mouthful. The two share, orange needing a bit longer as his hand is still shaking. Purple giggles at him when cold water runs down his neck, making him jolt. Citrus flicks the spilled water at them but the normal menace behavior isn't present.

Red gets up and stretches leisurely, “Stay put, ok? Need to make a reason you came inside after all.”

She redresses quickly, pulling the zipper all the way up. With her coveralls re-secured, Ratchet takes the key to leave them in safety. They passed enough scrap to let Rook leave with hands full and no additional questions. Killing something would work just as well. A quizzical call has her turn towards the two. Rook has his head tilted, poised to get up. A small hand wave has them settling back down, “I'll be back.”

Walking to her gear she stops at the faint sound of panicked breathing. Investigating a little, Ratchet finds that Chip’s walkie is active and sending out a signal to Citrus’ walkie. It's too faint for the other two to hear so she listens in carefully. There's the sound of dragging fabric, making her lean in closer. Muffled and fuzzy yet clear enough, ‘I-…Captain's hurting...’

Then the walkie goes dark and she's left there in disbelief. That was Brooks, what was he talking about? What's going on with them? Red frowns and rubs her neck, she can't interfere. She already has to make Rook being away not look too suspicious. Whatever happens..happens. Tsking at herself for washing her hands of them so quickly, she puts her helmet on. She'll get Rook back to the ship as fast as she can, looks like trouble is brewing. Casting a glance over her shoulder, Ratchet turns Citrus' walkie off for now. He'll get all worked up if he hears that the other two are struggling.

Connecting her tanks and pulling her weapon from the straps, Ratchet unlocks the door they came through. The halls echo and groan but not a monster in sight. Good, wouldn't have been surprised if a Slime was at the door from his screaming. Stepping out and quickly re-locking it behind her, Red sets off on her mission.

Chapter Text

The Spotify Playlist of all the songs used in the chapters! Will be updated every new chapter

Two quick meme pics to start getting used to drawing the crew. 

Pride art! I wasn't able to get Citrus in on this, tragic really, but very very happy with the work I managed!

This one is my phone bg now, something that hasn't changed since my first smartphone.

I almost don't want to show this one because I guess it's spoilery but but

And some guest art I've collected! First cute and then the spicy stuff

Menace and Pest going at it.

Ratchet and Rook getting up to some fun.

Again, I don't want to show this because well -hand gestures- but it's cute and sweeet so yeah

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Chapter Text

As time passes, the tension between them fades enough. Chip finally engages in surface level exchanges again. Although, he is only willing to talk about anything other than himself. It's not much, but it's a small win. Brooks will take any win after earlier. 

They've pressed deeper into the facility to avoid the Thumper with Blue taking the lead once Chip thoroughly loses his sense of direction. It took accidentally making a circle before he silently admits being unable to tell where they’re going. He’s been quiet ever since, from the embarrassment or something else Brooks can't tell. He just hopes it'll pass, his little crewmate has been so jumpy. Then again…so has he.

The halls grow more decrepit, rust from blown pipes rendering some doors inoperable. The humidity has been steadily building, making dealing with the steam vents more annoying. Several times small Hygroderes have oozed out of the shattered lines but have posed no real threat. The few tiny enough to fit in vials were very carefully shaken into the glass and sealed up tight. Any others have been simply scooped up with a shovel and dumped into a nearby abyss to keep them from becoming a problem. 

Wherever they are is vastly different from the upper level. The walls and floor are less industrial, with peeling paint and cracked linoleum. Sterile and rigid would have been descriptors for this area while the facility was in use. But not anymore. The scent in the air carries moss and mildew, signaling not to remove their helmets. The idle warning in the corner of Brooks' visor only confirms the air here is unsafe.

It reminds Brooks of old medical vessels, uniform and listless. Too easy to get lost, the worst type liminal space in his opinion. It makes him want to find anything that'll direct them out. Unfortunately, despite their efforts they cannot find any legible text or guide markers. Only faded walls and scattered papers. Time and water damage has rotted away signs and paint. Chip grows more and more frustrated with each failed attempt at finding anything. 

The path ahead is closed off to them due to signs of a Spider. Even if the monster is dead, there hasn't been any sign of life down here, they aren't taking a chance like that. The pair double their efforts in searching for stairs back up or at least a path out of this area.

While searching Brooks occasionally catches Chip getting distracted by strange plants growing through the cracks and rusty holes in the walls. The smaller man keeps stopping and collecting them with care, being uncharacteristically gentle to the unusual flora. They're not monsters, at least when scanned they just read as ‘plant’ or ‘????’ as the scanner has no way to categorize them. 

To find a healthy ecosystem without sunlight this deep into a facility fascinated his little stray. Without being able to see his face the other is left to wonder what expression is hiding under the helmet. There's an air of admiration and curiosity emanating off Chip with every new pause. Brooks feels like he's seeing a very fragile side of the smaller crewmate and can't help but be drawn in. However, his stray gets uncomfortable when he gets too close, shifting away or trying to appear disinterested. His efforts are failing spectacularly, something the blue finds exceptionally cute. Not that he'd ever admit it.

“Do you like plants?” Blue asks softly, wholly expecting not to get an answer. Tinted glass glances up at him for a second before turning away. He watches him fidget with his uniform, a behavior Brooks has recently begun to understand. Debating answering me? That's some progress. A tiny spark of hope glimmers that he might actually hear something about the guarded crewmate. There's a small defeated sigh, “Yes. I do…it's familiar. I grew up learning about them so seeing these here is well…”

Chip twirls a delicate stem between his thumb and pointer finger, “I guess…I'm a little hopeful? I could…maybe, keep one. Without sunlight plants don't grow but these are thriving. Although-” He shifts to look at the burst pipe above, “it's clear they rely on the water. Either it's something in the water or the filters failed and the ground is leeching into the waterway.”

He hesitantly gets up, “Either way, it means we should be careful around the steam. This facility must have been a lab of sorts before. Must be why we were called here.”

That's only half true, but Brooks doesn't need to know the other half. Cold dread runs up the back of his neck, eyes slowly rising up towards blue without moving. Reminding himself of what's expected of him this mission has Chip turning away silently. Gently placing the plant in a samples vial, he finds himself frowning. Words fall from his lips surprisingly easily, “I don't know why I'm collecting these…” Tilting his head away to the side he then mumbles, “I don't normally walk out of Vow facilities.”

Brooks tilts his head, “Pardon? What do you mean by that?”

“That…” Straightening up, Chip squints mild suspicion at the other. Why…? Realization dawns on him; he said that out loud and nearly spoke too much. Immediately he shuts down and looks away, signing quickly, “Nothing…forget about it.”

Before Brooks can ask him another question, the suddenly antsy man is walking away. He ignores the calls for him to stop, desperate for him to move on and forget his words. Why did I say that? Why did I say that? 

It just came out…

He has to ball his hands into fists to stop the shaking, holding them to the sides stiffly to keep himself from striking out. Brows knit tightly together as a grimace settles on his face. I shouldn't be complaining…that’s dangerous…

He needs to get Brooks to split up. How much longer until some monster finds him? Chip doesn't want him to be privy to that part of his job. Finding him afterwards is different than being caught with him. Could the others be nearby? A hand goes to his walkie instinctively, reflexively dialing into Citrus’ channel but stops. Radioing out now could catch Captain's attention. Maybe he'll wait, one of them'll reach out eventually.

_-_

They managed to get back to ‘familiar’ industrial halls. The plants do not seem to have spread out far from the lab area. However, they encounter the corpse of a Spider mutated with plant-like growths. Chip argued against collecting samples, citing that the risk of whatever infecting it could spread. A small pack of unusual looking Hoarders welcomed them back from the painted halls. Back to business dealing with monsters. 

A startling encounter with a Coil-head has them on razor's edge. Thankfully it was kept behind a rusted shut door but the jarring sound of glass shattering snatched away the fragile sense of ease. Brooks had stared it down as they crept past. It was covered in either algae or moss. It was hard to tell but neither were going to get close enough to check. Seems that even the inorganic monsters are susceptible to whatever is lurking in the facility.

Every sound and groan of the facility could be something other than the building shifting. Brooks is left tense but Chip is visibly unwell. Blue thinks they need to take a break and breathe. So after successfully turning off a steam vent, Brooks sighs loudly, “Hey, how about we stop for a second? I need water.” 

He leans against the wall and checks the air. When the visor gives the all clear, Brooks removes his helmet and wipes his brow. Damn, it’s so hot down here. Chip glances back but remains stiffly silent a few steps away from him. He is constantly looking behind them, a hand resting against the wall. Paranoia is coming off him in waves. Opening and drinking from his canteen blue offers it to him, “If I’m thirsty you must be too.”

His little crewmate pulls away for a brief moment before taking a wary step forward. There’s hesitation but soon he too removes his helmet. Poor thing is sweating too, running the back of his hand over his forehead to clear his eyes. His face is slightly flushed, gaze meeting his briefly before flicking away. Brooks has to stop himself from staring at him, the freckles catching his attention.

Tucking his helmet under his uninjured arm, Chip takes the canteen with a mumbled ‘thanks’. The taller crewmate can barely keep himself from reaching out to fix his hair, sighing softly and glancing away. These feelings are growing stronger and getting harder to keep to himself. If only Chip would actually hear what he’d tell him. Silence stretches out uncomfortably, making the few steps between them feel like light-years to the taller man. Neither crewmate makes eye contact, each for different reasons. Thoughts and feelings buzz behind brown eyes, until finally-

“Do I scare you?” 

The question hangs like a noose between them. Chip goes stock still, eyes wide and staring into the middle distance with the canteen to his lips. Brooks is stuck blinking in stunned shock that he actually said it out loud. A quick hand slaps over his mouth as sharp green eyes lock with his, damnit. Not like the action could unask his concern. Grimacing behind his glove, blue expects his little stray to snap. Instead, wary eyes soften in thought as green decides to drink first. Swallowing and wiping his mouth, he growls, “Hard not to when you’re stronger than me and won’t leave me alone.”

That…makes a whole lot of sense, no wonder he’s so quick to hiss and swipe at him. He and Captain are similar in stature and if the yellow suited man is abusing him how could he ever trust easily? Brooks frowns and rubs the back of his neck. Citrus had mentioned that it took a while for him to open up. ‘Persistence and patience’…something that’s been growing short in his grief. Of course Chip stands before him with deep suspicion. He’s only made headway when the other’s guard is down. The blue crewmate finds himself taking a  half step back to give the other more space.

“I’m not…” He pauses at the accusatory squint, “Chip, I ain’t going to hurt you..I was hoping you’d see that now.” 

“...You’re not the first to try to get close to me…and yet, here you are…” He gives a short sweeping gesture, eyes dull. Sighing and pressing a palm against his forehead, the taller crewmate thinks of what to say next. Chip continues to sip at his water, not relaxed in the slightest. When he turns away Brooks feels like he’s being foolish again. Is he simply humoring him?

“I…I'm sorry, I just want to get to know you. The others are somewhat willing to talk but you keep me at arm's length. I'm just…I'm just interested in knowing who I'm working with.”

He is not dignified with a verbal response, a single hand signing quickly, “I'm not really that interesting..”

Frustration at his deflection sinks under Brooks' skin, words coming faster than he expected, “Oh come on. That's clearly a lie.” 

He knew that came out poorly as soon as it left his mouth. Chip bristles with a glare and shoves his canteen against his chest. He looks like he’s about to snap at him, hand clenching but it falls limply to his side. Never has blue seen such fire be snuffed out so quickly. 

Turning his back to him, the unamused cat stalks away while putting his helmet back on. Brooks calls after him and has to jog to keep up, hastily getting his own helmet secured. He is getting a bit irritated with his little crewmate’s prickly exterior, you take everything in the most negative light.

“Chip! Come on, please. There's no one watching, I just want to talk.” He gets in front of the other. Green stops short and growls, not letting him get close. Brooks sighs softly, “I…damnit…I’m sorry. I…I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Chip takes a step back, “Why are you so insistent?”

His frustration gets the better of him as the taller man finally snaps, “Why are you being so stubborn? There's no one here!” He extends his arms aggressively while looking around, missing the other jolt at the sudden movement, “No one to hold anything against you!”

Gloved hands ball into fists as Chip growls, “You are! You're here! Why can't you just leave me alone!” 

He once again attempts to leave but shrinks back as Brooks gets closer, “I asked you if you wanted me to stop and you didn't say no. So here I am!”

Chip's back bumps against the wall, everything is too close, “You keep asking questions. Questions you don't need answers to. Why?”

“Because I see how lonely you are, there's a sadness in your eyes. I've seen it before and failed to help. And I feel lonely and out of place, I'm trying to find my footing in a team that's used to people leaving so I feel a bit…unwanted. Almost unnecessary. And I…” think I like you. 

The last few words die in his throat at catching a hint of Chip's furious expression behind the visor. The other fidgets with his gloves, shaking, back against the wall. Hands lift to sign before falling as he snaps, “You think that because you fucked up with your old team you can fix it here?! That that would somehow make it better? I’m not some damn therapy dog! Is that what you want from me?! To be the one you save? Save what?! You don’t know me! You don’t know a thing about me! Acting all friendly! It’ll get you killed!”

His words hurt, Brooks’ shoulders tense in reactionary anger. He wants to defend himself and his actions. Chip doesn't know his motivations! Why won't he listen? He goes to butt in, but a shuddering breath from the smaller man has him pause. Is he…crying?

“You want to know me so bad, there’s nothing to know!” He takes a shaky breath, snarling at himself, “I’m nothing but what the Company wants from me. No one stays. Letting people close has only caused pain! I can’t take anymore!” His voice raises in pitch and volume, “I trusted the Company! I trusted Captain! Why should I trust you, so you can use me? Hurt me? There’s no reason to let you near me because you’ll go like everyone else or hurt me like–!!” 

Chip barely stopped himself from speaking further, he can't reveal the truth. That's a mistake steeped in blood. At a loss of what to say he just screams, finally unable to hold it back. It does nothing to help the suffocating pressure on him. 

The walls are too close, Brooks is too close, yet he feels completely exposed. Eyes are on him, watching, waiting for him to crack. He feels the burning gaze on the back of his neck, is he watching me? Pain and panic has him gripping the sides of his helmet, what did I just say!? The only sound he can hear is his own panicked breathing and the thundering of his heart. 

The other reaches out towards him, pausing and suddenly straightening up. He walks at him quickly, silently, which makes Chip flinch away, “D-Don’t tou–!!”

Saying nothing, Brooks wraps an arm around his shoulders and steers him towards the right side wall. However, green stumbles past the wall into a tiny maintenance access between the floor to ceiling pipes with the larger man squeezing in after him. The space is barely big enough for them but it's well hidden. Lost in the haze of his outburst, Chip tries to squeeze past Brooks. He is held fast in place with a hand on his helmet and the other holding his arm.

Sudden icy fear has the little crewmate frozen, barely breathing. The other is pressed against him, pinning him between a wall and several thruming pipes. Squeezing his eyes shut as blue holds onto his head a few tears roll down his face. Chip is scared, scared that he was right not to trust him. Terrified that despite his efforts to keep the larger crewmate away, he is going to hurt him and he can't do anything to stop it. A shaking left hand grabs onto the one keeping him in place while pressing the other against the broad chest. Twinging pain prevents him from pushing away, a tiny whimper breaking free.

“Sssh…” Brooks whispers, head turned to watch outside. Chip struggles to look but grips onto his jacket tightly as a massive Bracken stalks into view. The breath dies in his throat as the world closes in seeing the Bracken that inhabits the facility. The hulking entity is hunched over so its ferns don't brush against the ceiling. Blood red skin is littered with vine-like lesions and thick patches of moss across its back. How could something like that be so silent?

It blinks slowly, mouth opening to reveal razor sharp teeth, the sight has Chip’s skin itch. A hollow clicking sound reverberates from the monster’s chest as it lifts its head. The entity lingers, sweeping those soulless eyes from side to side. Rhythmic breathing and a low chuff paralyzes the green clad crewmate entirely. It’s sniffing around, looking for him. 

They shouldn’t have stopped. He shouldn’t have removed his helmet. It has his scent. It won’t leave them alone now and they’re trapped. What if it finds them?

In his spiralling panic, Chip missed blue moving his hand to his shoulder. A gentle squeeze has him jump, feeling him rub tiny circles against his uniform. Focusing on the touch and not the terrifying monster searching for them, Chip manages to breathe again. In the aching silence he buries his head into blue’s jacket, wanting to block out everything. 

He isn’t with someone that has been so pointedly trying to get closer. He isn’t alone with that man, trapped in a narrow space between pipes because his screaming brought a monster straight to them. Why did Brooks protect him? He was just ripping into him and he’s now comforting him? He didn’t run…he didn’t abandon him when he noticed something coming. It would have been so easy to and yet he…didn’t.

Tilting his head up to actually look at Brooks he found himself getting overwhelmed. He doesn't dwell on his feelings, glancing back towards the hall. The Bracken seems to have given up and wandered off, leaving them for now. The near sobbing sigh green releases has him sinking into the other, gritting his teeth at how he had put them in danger. Brooks shifts and gives him a little bit of breathing space. 

“I know Captain’s hurting you.” Brooks whispers, Chip snapping up and pushing away. Pain has him yelp and hug his arm, “Wh-when…who?”

“When I went to talk to Ratchet, because things just weren’t adding up after finding you so distressed. She told me that Captain ‘manages’ you and things just clicked a bit.” The hand on his shoulder tugs at the release on his helmet, when there's no resistance he carefully removes it. Chip's eyes are glassy in the low light, tear streaks evident. He looks away while chewing at his lip. Brooks is not dissuaded from continuing to press, he might not get another chance.

“You keep everyone away so there's less ways he can cause you pain. That’s why you don’t want anyone to really know how much you care about Citrus. That would just be used against you,” He didn’t want to have to lay it out so bluntly but after chewing on the last two days he hopes this’ll break through. It could also backfire massively. Brooks leans closer, fingers ghosting against his cheek. He waits for the other to acknowledge or reject him. Eyes flick towards his hand but when he doesn't move away blue cups his face. Running the side of a finger over the thin scab under his chin has Chip wince, “You shouldn't defend someone who hurts you.”

“It's…. it's not that simple…” Chip whispers, not meeting his gaze. They're so close, blue could just lean a little closer but blinks the thought away, “Then please, make me understand.”

The exhausted man brushes his hand away with the back of his hand, tone tight and dismissive, “It’s fine. I just have to-…I'm still here aren't I?”

“You don't have to be alone, please. I want to help. I'll learn to speak around my foot better.” 

The shorter of the two stares at him with a look of confusion before exhaling a dry laugh and rolling his eyes. There's that little spark of life Brooks wants to hold onto. 

“Staying with me is going to put you in danger…that…” His eyes shift back to the hall but blue exhales a short laugh this time, “And leave you to deal with that by yourself?”

“They get more aggressive when there's another employee. It's safer if I'm alone..”

“Not safer for you,” A hand ghosts across his injury, watching Chip flinch at the contact, “You were alone yesterday and nearly died over it. The thought of it makes me feel sick, please... if something happens I'd rather face it together.”

Tired eyes stare into nothing, slowly looking away, “I hope you don't regret saying that…”

With that he squirms past and peeks out of their hidey hole, glancing back and forth. It must be clear as he slips out and puts his helmet back on. He turns towards him as Brooks maneuvers out, “Please don’t tell Citrus about what you know. He’ll try something and I’m afraid Captain will…”

He sighs and rubs his injury nervously, “I’m afraid of what he’d do..”

Chapter Text

They clear a few rooms, finding nothing to collect but rotted papers and destroyed equipment. Thankfully the hallway they've been traversing has been uneventful, although they are hyper aware of any noise. Brooks hasn't seen those white eyes but worries that the monster is not far. As much as he doesn't want to go back into the Thumper territory, it's easier to deal with.

A faded sign barely hanging on seems to point towards a staircase if they keep pressing forward. The fatigue of being so tense sinks deep into Chip’s bones, shoulders sagging a bit. The aches from yesterday are slowly getting harder to ignore which means the medication Citrus gave him is wearing off. Glancing at the pack fastened to Brooks' tanks he wonders if he has anything that could help. There is a vague recollection of him and Citrus ducking into the back this morning.

He hopes the other is doing ok, being paired with Ratchet is one of the safest options. I wouldn't be able to keep him safe in this state…he'd only worry over me..

Not hearing any call outs is a good sign…normally. There's a Thumper still running around, something could have happened. Chip lightly slaps at the sides of his helmet to stop that train of thought. No. Rook would be losing their mind with radioing out if something was wrong. At least if we can get back up the Bracken will be kept at bay…maybe it'll be alright…

But…

...If I don't have…an encounter…

Captain won't allow that…

He…he’d…

...fuck why does it have to be Vow…

Brooks pauses and the quiet man nearly runs into him with how consumed he is by his thoughts. Blinking and lifting his head towards the other he waits to understand why they stopped. Blue sidesteps and gestures down the hall, “Look.”

Chip glances around him, there's something in the murky darkness. Scanning brings up a 65% match to a Sporelizard, but it's nothing like those monsters normally are. The only entity he's encountered that would rather avoid crewmates, only attacking if cornered. By all accounts it should be a problem, a bulky reptilian body that makes hits almost useless with a maw full of teeth, but it is not carnivorous. It's the spores it releases that are more dangerous, it can ‘agitate’ anything that comes into contact with the pink powder. It's led to exhausting encounters before.

This one…this one looks sick.

Can monsters get sick…?

The typically smooth scales are festering with spore pouches similar to the one on its tail, shifting and pulsing with every movement. Strange shimmering plant growth weaves through the body and flesh, purple fluid oozing from places where the roots burrow under the scales. The flora looks nothing like what they found earlier nor what Chip spotted on the Bracken. More like a fungus. It confirms his worries; this facility was some kind of bio lab. Even its movement is stilted and unnatural, almost as if it was moving against its will. He grabs onto Brooks' sleeve, “Don't approach it…”

“What is it?” Brooks shakily signs, not taking his eyes off it. Chip pulls on his jacket more, finally getting his full attention, “A Sporelizard or Puffer, but something is very wrong with it…”

He motions for them to back away from it, “Normally docile but I don't trust it. It's so infected, yet with nothing we've seen earlier. We need to get back up. Whatever is down on this level is dangerous. Infesting dead things is one thing..”

There's no Masked on Vow so whatever is taking over the facility might not be able to infect humans but he doesn't want to find out. The green clad crewmate is very antsy now, there's not only a Bracken after him but it's a biohazard down here. The idea of being caught grows more and more terrifying. What if one of them gets injured and infected because of it?

Brooks gently hooks two digits around Chip’s pinkie and ring finger, giving a small squeeze. It breaks him out of his thoughts, head lifting ever so slightly. Even without seeing his face, the taller man's voice carries a soft smile, “Hey…I gotcha, we’ll get back up. Let's go down that way, there's a draft over there. Maybe we're finally at the damn stairs.”

Both walkies suddenly crackle to life, causing them to jump. Thankfully the monster seems to be out of earshot. Ratchet's voice cuts through the static, “Anyone else encountering strange monsters? A few hoarders went by covered in weird growths.”

Brooks reluctantly lets go and takes his walkie, “Yeah. We also just came across a Puffer that looks…uh, honestly looks like it would be better off dead. But neither of us want to approach it.”

Only Brooks’ walkie clicks on as she replies, “Don't approach anything like that. Avoid any monsters too infested or mutated or whatever is going on. Be careful collecting things too- hm? Hang on.”

The walkie clicks off and leaves them wary. Brooks places a hand to his chest as static suddenly hits him, “S.. She's ok…right?”

Chip just nods absently, “She wouldn't have just let go. Plus Rook would have cut in if there was danger.”

He sounds really tired and distant but the little reassurance settles the building anxiety. He decides that they'll keep moving while they wait for her to radio out. Taking several steps, blue looks back to see that the other hadn't moved. Striding back, he can see that his stray wasn't pleased he noticed his attempt at a statue. Blue says nothing but offers a hand. He can feel the suspicious gaze on the gloved digits before Chip hesitantly reaches up and takes hold of the same two fingers as Brooks had. 

With a small squeeze to hopefully comfort the other, Brooks leads them down the hall after double checking the Puffer hadn't gotten closer. After turning the corner they are finally greeted to stairs, the dingy rusty metal never looked so relieving. Sighing and finding new vigor, Brooks leads them up the stairs and peers into the less decrepit factory room the stairwell feeds into. 

“Oh, stars above. Finally.” He mutters, feeling Chip stop besides him. With a casual glance he can tell the other is in pain with how hard he's gripping his jacket. Concern sparks in blue's mind, but with how close to the lower level they still are it's not safe to stop. Spying an open door on the other side of the massive room, Brooks motions him to follow, “I want to get a little further away before we take a break, I feel a little shaken.”

A small lie, but if Chip hasn't spoken up about his pain then there's no way he'd stop again if it's for him. The other follows slowly, constantly looking back as they make their way to the other side. The yawning abyss in the middle has the pair pressing against the wall in case that Thumper turns up. 

Ducking through the open doorway, Brooks scans the area. Nothing hostile shows up but there's a vague warning flashing in the corner of the HUD. It's not about the air so it's ignored for now as it's saying something about outside. One closed door and two open line the hallway before it veers off into a maze-like array of corridors. Listening carefully the pair make it to the furthest door. 

The room is dimly lit but looks to be a two floor locker room. Including the threshold they're in, there's three total ways out. One up top and two on their level. Not ideal but he doesn't want to keep making Chip walk in pain. Scanning the area brings up a big bolt and key for scrap. The air scan comes up as safe so he feels like this is the time to rest for a moment. 

Chip stands away from the door and watches him move about. Silently he observes the other collect the scrap and close the two doors. Being still makes the building ache subside just enough to be bearable. Once Brooks seems satisfied with the state of the room, he tilts his head towards the top floor, “Up top? We'll be harder to spot.”

“There's two staircases so probably the best option.” Green murmurs while making his way up the steps, flinching when his core tenses up. He hopes the other doesn't notice how poorly he's doing, the smaller man is still wary of him.

Brooks doesn't settle until after locking the upper door, finally feeling some sense of control over the situation. He then sits down with his back to the wall between the two stairways and pats the spot next to him. It takes his stray a moment to sit down, the meds have definitely worn off. Pulling out the pack Citrus gave him, blue hopes there's something to help. Pawing through the small bag he is successful in finding some painkillers, it's not much but might take the edge off until they can get back. 

The canteen is offered again and this time it's taken without much fuss. Hesitant hands linger at the release before Chip removes his helmet. Even in the dim light Brooks can tell he's having a rough time, “Yesterday catching up to you?”

Tired eyes widen in shock, meeting his own dim reflection in Brooks' visor. He sighs and closes them with the tiniest nod, he can't lie it would put his partner in danger. He expects a scoff or some sign of frustration after everything but instead he hears fabric shifting. Opening his eyes, Chip is greeted to a sealed tab that contains pain management pills. He blinks in surprise, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Citrus gave me this in case things got well, a bit dicey.”

I worry him too much…The injured man frowns but accepts the tab. Giving Brooks an ounce of trust, Chip opens the package and takes the medicine. The bitter aftertaste lingers even after he swallows it down with water. Staring at the opening of the bottle he whispers, “How did you know?”

The larger crewmate paused mid helmet removal, blinking a bit in thought. Placing it aside, he counters, “Are you asking because you'll try and hide it better next time?”

That has the cat hunch his shoulders closer to himself, looking away guiltily. His hand moves with a barely visible ‘no’. Blue quirks a brow but shrugs to himself, “You started to slow down at first. Then kept gripping your uniform. At that point it was easier to guess. Yesterday seemed really bad for you.”

Being so perceived has Chip shifting with discomfort as Brooks explained what had given him away. He knows that he answered with a no as the other can clearly see through his attempts to keep his cards close. Unfortunately old habits are hard to break so Chip's already thinking of how to minimize his tells. He has to be careful next time, if he concerns his teammate then doing what is expected will be harder. 

“Do you want to return to the ship?” 

Chip's eyes widen momentarily before looking towards Brooks. The question is soft with concern. Despite the hard trek it would be to get back plus the monsters, Brooks is willing to risk it if he can't keep going. A strange feeling flutters under pale skin, making Chip hold onto his jacket tightly. What should he say? Logically no, he's fine. It's fine. They have a mission! But deep down he wants to admit he desires to leave. Today has been on the back foot all day and he really just wants to escape the inevitable. Before he can muster up an answer the walkies spark to life again, “Brooks? Chip? You there?”

Ratchet's ok! Brooks responds quickly, “Yes, we are! What was that about? Are you ok?”

“Well... I'm fine. So is Citrus, before anyone starts gettin-z- upset. Just had to deal with a Thumper.”

Chip had perked up at the mention of Citrus, his concern overriding his apathy. He stares at the black plastic, waiting to hear more. Why is she phrasing things so strangely?

“So good news, it's dead. Got a good swing on it before it charged off into an abyss. No-z- helpful for collecting but I got a mouth flap-zz- that we're taking back to the ship. Are you nearby?”

They're going back? The thought pops in both their minds. Chip sits back as the rest of what she said sinks in. The Thumper is dead. He has no buffer, how long before some other monster moves in on the territory? He quickly grabs Brooks' walkie, “We just got up…from the level below. There's samples that should go back.”

“Rook, can you-z- gui-z-e them? -zzz- “

The walkie begins to have extra static which is not a good sign. However, when Rook attempts to respond it's almost impossible to make out anything. Brooks notices dread creep across the shorter man's face before it disappears into a neutral expression. The smaller crewmate busies himself with getting his helmet back on, well there goes resting. 

“Did y-zzz-u get tha-zzz-? A few roo-zz- due -zzz-st.”

“Repeat that?” Brooks hopes she can hear them.

“F-zz- rooms d-z-e E-zzz-.”

East. A few rooms due east. Ok. Brooks sighs, he wants Chip to rest but he's already on his feet. Scoffing at the ruined chance he reluctantly gets his helmet back on and stands, “Welp, no rest for us, huh?”

Chip turns his visor towards him for a heartbeat, shaking his head and going down the stairs. Blue follows and motions to the door they hadn't gone through, “East is that way.”

When his stray doesn't take the lead, he nods to himself and does so. A few rooms due east he repeats trying to navigate in the tangle of hallways. They have to lure a Slime into a room before pressing on. Soon low conversation catches the leader's ears, they found them!

_-_

Ratchet sits up upon seeing the two round the corner. She honestly wasn't going to be surprised if they never made it but at least this'll stop Citrus from fretting much. Brooks’ body language relaxes significantly and waves in greeting. The smallest crewmate hops off his perch to go talk to the sullen green clad man.

So they haven't had much trouble, physically at least, uniforms aren't torn up from close encounters. She motions blue over for a small debrief, “So give me a little run down of your time.”

There's a deep chested sigh, “Damn, where to start…”

Citrus takes Chip's hands and rocks from his heel to toes, “Hey, how's you holdin’ up?”

He can see the other's face dimly lit by his visor lights, his friend is not doing well. Stress is clearly etched in his eyes that look away, “Fine enough. Uh…”

Chip tilts his head towards the other two before pulling his hands free. He signs, “Thanks for giving Brooks that bag, the meds had worn off and everything started to hurt.”

Orange wiggles his hips, he knew it would come in handy. Nodding he replies, “Someone's got to look after you.”

“I wish…” Chip shakes his hands and drops them to his sides with a huff. Citrus knows what he wants to say, but it's never worked before like hell was it going to now! Understanding that the subject needs changed, he lightly claps his hands together, “You radioed something about samples?”

That prompt has his friend move to remove the pack on his straps and place it on a box, “Not all monsters…but..”

Curious as heck, Citrus unzips it and pulls out a vial. It's a plant! A healthy plant! And there's more than just the one! He looks towards Chip, “Wait! How? Where?”

“The lower level, but it's not safe. Very not safe. Avoid it at all costs.” The level of stress in Chip's voice has the other nod, “Heard loud an’ clear.”

He gets a little closer, signing, “Should I hide one for us?”

Chip jolts and glances past them again, Brooks is still neck deep in conversation, “I don't know if they're safe….I…I'd like to but without risking the ship.”

Orange nods, head turning towards the pack. He mentions that it's a stellar find as he begins to seriously rifle through each vial. Chip agrees, voice trailing off as eyes wander around the room. Ratchet has Brooks distracted and Citrus is equally engaged with what he brought back. He is not being paid any mind. 

He could slip away.

If he's quiet enough he could get enough distance to dissuade them from following. The walkies are acting up enough he could just ignore them. As much as he wants to escape having a Bracken encounter if he doesn't then Captain will ensure it will tomorrow. He never leaves Vow without an encounter. 

“You best do your damn job or I'll just have to make you.”

A feeling of hands snaking around the back of his neck has Chip shiver. He has both fled and struck his superior. The reality of their next one on one interaction makes him feel ill. He's made Captain angry, he'll lash out or do something for continuing to fail. 

“It's not like you're capable of anything more than disappointing me, mutt. ”

He hadn't realized he snuck away from the group until he couldn't hear them anymore. Stopping and glancing back, Chip is left with a choice. Does he stay and get brought back into the group? Risking a brutal tomorrow. Or run and get it over with? Chip's feet respond first, turning heel and running away.

He doesn't want Brooks to be a part of this, or Citrus! Even Ratchet…shaking his head, he takes a corner. If he's a part of the group, they are at risk. It's better this way… He reminds himself over and over, passing room after room. His injuries force him to stop, panting and gasping for air. It's going to hurt…there's no way around it…

Maybe if he doesn't fight it won't be as painful. Unfortunately that would be fighting his instincts. Closing his eyes to hold back the bitterness building in his throat, Chip resolves to endure whatever is going to happen. He'll endure…he'll endure so Citrus doesn't… Standing up to push further away the call of his name roots him to the spot.

No…

No…

No…!

Wide unblinking eyes turn slowly towards the voice as blue draws near. He wasn't supposed to follow! Does he have no sense of self preservation!? Green bristles and grits his teeth, hostility flash boiling, “What are you doing!?”

The taller man stops dead in his tracks at how openly venomous the other is. He didn't think he was capable of such biting fury. Hands go up in a feeble attempt to ease the burning rage, “You ran off-”

“Go back!” He snaps, pointing sharply in his direction, blind with fury that barely masks the deep terror of him being here. Go back where you'll be safe! Brooks balks and reaches out as Chip attempts to keep the distance between them, “And what abandon you in here?”

He hooks his hand around a tense limb, preventing him from fleeing, “What kind of partner would that make me?”

“Smart! Go back!” Green hisses as he struggles to get Brooks to let go, hitting his chest but his injured arm doesn't have enough strength to push him away. Panic has Chip gasping, gripping onto blue fabric tightly. He can't be here! He could get killed! 

“I-I can't be responsible for you!” The words are choked and barely above a whisper. Brooks shakes his head in disbelief, “You're barely responsible for yourself! We’re partnered together today and I'm not going to just leave you to just blindly get lost in here!”

“You don't fucking get it! Let me go!” Chip begs, baring his teeth with the desire to bite and force him to let go but can't with the helmet. Instead he kicks out, making the larger man stumble back and finally release him. They stand there panting, Chip in shock that he kicked Brooks and Brooks stunned he's been kicked. 

They react at the same time, Brooks lunging forward while green back peddles. Size and reach are on the bigger crewmate’s side as he grabs hold of the other's straps and brings him closer. Reflectively Chip reaches for the buckles, but his wrists are snatched up by much stronger hands, “Are you crazy?! Stop that!”

Tears of fear and anger wet his chin as he whimpers, “Let me g-go…”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I can't.” His voice starts off soft. He's tried to be as gentle as possible, but the man before him has avoided most of his attempts. Sighing slowly through the nose and giving his head a small shake, Brooks’ determination is set.

“No. I won't.” He bites back, not releasing him. Chip growls and yanks his wrists free, "I'm not worth staying here for! Go back where it's safe!”

He shoves blue back but it barely moves the other, a hand resting on his shoulder. Unable to accept the gesture, the smaller man smacks his hand away, “You'll get yourself killed…just leave me.”

“Come back with me to the other two.” Brooks whispers, ignoring his urgency. Spent and too tired to fight him more, Chip sucks in a shaky breath. He barely registers that he's being led back, a hand holding his to keep him from running away again unseen.

As they silently round a corner Brooks pauses, looking around. Chip's mind is a whirlwind of dread about what is going to happen to him to notice the sudden change. His thunderous heart roars in his ears, drowning out whatever the other is picking up. 

That is…until the dreadful words are uttered.

“Do you hear that?”

His body feels dunked in ice as everything in him ceases, finally allowed to hear it…

Leaves…

Chapter Text

Ugh…

Where?

Brooks groans and slowly sits up, what happened?

Chip!

He looks around and feels a warm weight in his lap. Looking down, he finds Chip sprawled out, stomach down, over his legs and lap. It can't be super comfortable in the long run but blue hesitates moving. He sees his chest rise slowly, good still alive. Turning his attention back to himself, Brooks undoes his helmet to rub his aching head as his eyes slowly move up.

Oh…

Right…

The Bracken…

It chased us…

We fell…

And aren't dead…?

The sound of Chip’s desperate yelling to run mixed with the roar of the monster beats against his ears. He remembers them leading it away from the other two but then the ground disappeared out from under him. There was a scream, hands holding onto him tightly, heavy thudding before gravity won out and everything went black.

Taking stock of himself, Brooks is alarmed to see the shovel is gone, but his gear is all accounted for otherwise. His attention is then pulled down as Chip moves a little, he must be coming to. After a moment a gasp of alarm comes from the smaller crewmate. He suddenly lifts himself up, looking around in a panic.

“Brooks!” His voice is raw and scared, thinking he's alone.

“I'm here, in one piece.” 

The reply is soft and reassuring, pulling wide eyes over towards the one who broke his fall. Chip stares at him for a beat or two before shakily sinking back down. A pained groan filters up as he reaches down to his left leg. Brooks helps him move and notices a decent gash on the other's thigh. When did that happen? 

“That doesn't look good. No, no, don't look at it.”

He turns Chip's helmet towards him, feeling subtle shivers. Either he's in some shock or adrenaline from being chased is wearing off. Either way they need to move. The beast will still be hunting them. 

Resolve burns through him as he puts his helmet back on. Sliding his legs out from under Chip, Brooks crouches and loops an arm over his shoulder. There's little protest from the other, if anything he looks a bit distant.

“Alright up we go.” He huffs as they stand. Chip is barely putting weight on his bad leg and being so close the blue crewmate can hear his pained whines. 

“Here let me move to that side.”

Chip leans against the wall, feeling cold sweat down his back as Brooks supports his bad side. He doesn't remember when he got cut, everything happened so fast. Not being allowed to look at it yet is probably saving him some pain. Once Brooks seems satisfied that they're stable he hears the walkie crackle.

“Brooks to ship. Chip and I fell down….. somewhere. Chip's hurt, can we get a teleport?”

A little warning on his visor finally catches the injured crewmate's eye. There's an electrical storm warning, just like on Offense. Except this one is close enough to mess with communication. They don't last all day but certainly suck.

“There's a storm…. they'll probably not hear us..” His words are laced with pain. Brooks’ straightens up a bit, “Oh...”

A moment of silence seeps between them before blue breaks it, “There's webs here.”

Oh great, a spider…

“If there's a thick enough patch, it'll be useful for your leg.”

That sounds awful but it's not like he has bandages and now they'll have to bunker down somewhere. Staying put is not an option either, it's too open. He makes the softest sound of displeasure as Brooks starts to move. 

_-_-_

Chip manages to keep a good pace, tripping only once. Thankfully Brooks is strong and keeps both of them standing. The two do come across a hallway absolutely covered in webbing. Truly looks like gravity defying snow covering the threshold. With no plant matter around and the silk looking normal the taller crewmate stops to take some. 

Chip leans against the wall while the other unsheathes his blade. The knife cuts through the material like butter. Every so often he stops to listen for the resident. No chittering or clicking is heard by either so a thick swath of web is secured. He passes it to Chip to hold, “Just until I find us somewhere safer.”

For spider webbing it feels more like cotton swabs even through gloves. Green holds it gingerly so he doesn't crush it and ruin the other's efforts. 

Once Chip is resupported Brooks presses on. There's very few words exchanged, an occasional check in or hiss of pain. A hoarding bug skitters past them while thankfully ignoring the two. They didn't have much in the way of scrap on them anyway. Having two sets of eyes focused on getting somewhere safe meant ambush monsters were easier to spot.

“Flea..” Chip groans softly. Brooks redirects them so the entity doesn't drop down on either of them. Soon he finds an empty dead end room. He takes Chip to one side, easing him down to the floor. He looks so vulnerable sitting there, injured and spent. Brooks takes note that his pants have a few slashes around the cut. Was the Bracken that close?

Opening the pack, he finds a few things. It's truly not a lot but better than nothing, “I have some more things to help, thanks to Citrus. It’ll at least prevent infection while we wait.”

Brooks waits for the invitation to work on the wound. Chip grunts and shifts, easing his pants down so the other can get a better look. His leg burned even though he didn't put much weight on it. Brooks takes his canteen and cuts a bit of webbing, “This might hurt…no. This'll hurt.” 

His honesty is soothing and Chip was already braced. He still sucks in a sharp breath as Brooks cleans the wound. Fresh blood oozes from the raw skin as it takes a concerted effort to not tense up his leg. The occasional reassuring pat made it easier to ignore the pain by focusing on the gentle touch.

“Good boy,” Brooks says just loud enough to be heard, making his patient flush red. Said patient is so thankful to have his helmet on. Once Brooks is pleased with the cleaning job another swab of webbing is cut to pat it dry. That doesn't hurt as much and allows the little crewmate to relax a bit.

“Alright all clean…now I don't know if this'll hurt.” The topical medicine is an aerosol so it'll be cold and possibly alcohol based. Chip grumbles and hugs himself so he doesn't strike out from pain. He watches Brooks hold the nozzle towards the skin.

Oh.

That hurts.

Pain hits him hard and fast, a whimper is dragged out before he could stop himself. A low chuckle from blue makes him a little cross, “Don't laugh at me..”

“It's hard not to when you sound kinda cute.”

His ears felt warm by his words, damnit they're stuck and he's injured now is not time! He did this yesterday too…

“There, I knew that would distract you.”

Chip looked down, Brooks had wrapped his leg neatly as he mentally shorted out. The pain had faded to a dull throb but he can ignore that. Sighing in relief that is over, he lets his head fall back with a hollow thunk of plastic against the wall. Giving into the exhaustion a bit he closes his eyes. Doing so makes him fail to notice Brooks’ gaze comb over his exposed skin. 

Until he touches a scar.

Chip tenses up and opens his eyes, he wanted to smack his hand away but Brooks’ touch was almost tender. It rooted him to the spot. Their helmets hide their expressions, Chip's apprehension and Brooks' soft sadness. The blue crewmate traces some newer red lines as the green stares warily.

“You've been through a lot…” Brooks murmurs, glancing at him. Chip's eyes flit between his hand and helmet. No response is needed.

Brooks has seen what the monsters are capable of. 

The smaller man found himself getting a bit flustered at the tenderness being shown to him. He tugs nervously at the waistband of his pants. The other notices and helps him get dressed again, “Sorry, didn't mean to make it weird.”

Chip grips his pants, thinking of something. 

Anything.

He needed the words to come out this time and not die in his throat. Licking his lips and swallowing he looks at Brooks, “I…it's not you..”

“Hey, you don't need to say anything.” Brooks reassures as he recaps his canteen. Chip's head rests against the wall, I'm so tired. He glances over as Brooks settles next to him, silently sinking against the bigger man. He feels…safe with him.

_-_

A notification ping wakes Brooks, he blinks blearily. The storm was subsiding and communications will return in an hour. Good, they'll be out soon once contact is reestablished. Shifting his weight to ease mild discomfort in his back he notices Chip. The smaller man had slowly snuggled up to him after they settled to rest. He’s fast asleep, head resting on his shoulder. 

Brooks hadn't seen Chip so relaxed. He didn't want to wake him up yet. He's been so stressed and it got under the blue crewmate's skin. As he gives Chip a gentle helmet tap a sound catches his attention. Time seems to freeze as he slowly looks up towards the door. Two pinprick eyes stare at him from the scratched glass. 

Fuck. The Bracken. 

Every nerve feels on edge, they're cornered. He looks away a little, chewing on his cheek nervously. Chip's leg will probably hurt more since they've been still for so long. Glancing back the eyes are gone, they need to get out. Reading the weather notification saying that signals are stronger. Brooks taps the walkie and swallows as he stares at the door.

“Rook? Rook, are we in the clear for a teleport?”

He waits, praying that the monster isn't going to get aggressive with them. The walkie buzzes a little so he perks up. He swears he hears Rook's response but it frazzles out causing Brooks to prompt again.