Indebtedness [Marr]
Dec 2, 2014 17:00:44 GMT -5
Post by Artemis on Dec 2, 2014 17:00:44 GMT -5
Brody was dying.
Of boredom.
The painkillers being pumped into his system made him giddy at best, lethargic at worst; though Brody's parents visited him constantly, there was still a great deal of downtime to be had on his part.
The 1st Lieutenant had dropped by briefly, talking to Brody with barely-concealed amusement at her normally rigid, serious subordinate's decidedly childish manner. Brody was painfully aware of what the morphling was doing to his mind (and his behavior), but was utterly helpless to stop himself.
Rochelle, for her part, had been mercifully understanding.
She had parted last with good news... sort of. Though Brody would've happily been a Corporal until he was a decrepit old man to never have felt the pain of that bullet, since the damage was done the powers that be (ie, the brass) had opted to reward him for it.
They couldn't give Brody a medal; medals had stories attached to them, and nobody who didn't already know was ever going to find out that a convict managed to escape the Detention Center, let alone that he bested a Peacekeeper and shot him with his own gun.
No, they couldn't do that.
So they made him a Sergeant instead.
Thankfully, they had opted to have the frocking ceremony in Brody's hospital room, where the only ones who could see the pale, fragile state he was in were his parents, the 1st Lieutenant, and some Colonel that sounded like he had a thousand other things that he'd rather be doing.
Even if Brody abhorred the circumstances under which he received such an early promotion, he had to admit... Sergeant O'Rourke had a nice ring to it.
Though it didn't do anything for his current predicament; laid up in bed, drugged to the gills and very, very bored.
His father was going to visit at some point today, promising to bring something to entertain his son when company wasn't around, but until then Brody found himself staring out the door and watching the foot traffic as it passed. The Peacekeeper stationed sentry at his door was some greenhorn Private, not yet salty enough to overlook the military general order of not speaking on guard except in the line of duty, etcetera etcetera.
God, he was bored.
At least, until the Private turned on his 'serious business' voice and stepped into the doorway to bar someone's entry. Brody sat up (with some difficulty) in bed, craning his neck to see around the Private's broad back. The rotation of guards knew what Brody's parents looked like and (almost) never challenged their entry... The exception being when, hilariously, one Private First Class that fancied himself hot shit tried to bar Nolan's way to seeing his son; Brody had been sorely disappointed to find out the PFC hadn't, in fact, pissed his pants when faced with a very large and paternally enraged Nolan O'Rourke.
But he digressed. Having a visitor that the guards didn't recognize was unusual, and promising.
"Private, unless Jins Revenue is risen from beyond the grave and here to wreak horrible vengeance on me, let 'em through. Or I'll die of boredom, and it'll be on your watch."
The Private hesitated, and for a split second Brody wondered if the unfamiliar person seeking entry to his room might actually be someone to worry about; the figure that became visible when he stepped aside, however, was unmistakable.
"Really, Private?" Brody snarked, "Getting all up in arms over a pregnant girl?"
Though Brody couldn't see his face, the slight shrug of his shoulders meant he'd struck just the right chord of embarrassment. Rolling his eyes, Brody turned to Kyanite. Kind of sad that of the handful of times they'd met, this was the first that nobody was covered in tears or blood.
Taking that bullet wasn't for naught, at least.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Of boredom.
The painkillers being pumped into his system made him giddy at best, lethargic at worst; though Brody's parents visited him constantly, there was still a great deal of downtime to be had on his part.
The 1st Lieutenant had dropped by briefly, talking to Brody with barely-concealed amusement at her normally rigid, serious subordinate's decidedly childish manner. Brody was painfully aware of what the morphling was doing to his mind (and his behavior), but was utterly helpless to stop himself.
Rochelle, for her part, had been mercifully understanding.
She had parted last with good news... sort of. Though Brody would've happily been a Corporal until he was a decrepit old man to never have felt the pain of that bullet, since the damage was done the powers that be (ie, the brass) had opted to reward him for it.
They couldn't give Brody a medal; medals had stories attached to them, and nobody who didn't already know was ever going to find out that a convict managed to escape the Detention Center, let alone that he bested a Peacekeeper and shot him with his own gun.
No, they couldn't do that.
So they made him a Sergeant instead.
Thankfully, they had opted to have the frocking ceremony in Brody's hospital room, where the only ones who could see the pale, fragile state he was in were his parents, the 1st Lieutenant, and some Colonel that sounded like he had a thousand other things that he'd rather be doing.
Even if Brody abhorred the circumstances under which he received such an early promotion, he had to admit... Sergeant O'Rourke had a nice ring to it.
Though it didn't do anything for his current predicament; laid up in bed, drugged to the gills and very, very bored.
His father was going to visit at some point today, promising to bring something to entertain his son when company wasn't around, but until then Brody found himself staring out the door and watching the foot traffic as it passed. The Peacekeeper stationed sentry at his door was some greenhorn Private, not yet salty enough to overlook the military general order of not speaking on guard except in the line of duty, etcetera etcetera.
God, he was bored.
At least, until the Private turned on his 'serious business' voice and stepped into the doorway to bar someone's entry. Brody sat up (with some difficulty) in bed, craning his neck to see around the Private's broad back. The rotation of guards knew what Brody's parents looked like and (almost) never challenged their entry... The exception being when, hilariously, one Private First Class that fancied himself hot shit tried to bar Nolan's way to seeing his son; Brody had been sorely disappointed to find out the PFC hadn't, in fact, pissed his pants when faced with a very large and paternally enraged Nolan O'Rourke.
But he digressed. Having a visitor that the guards didn't recognize was unusual, and promising.
"Private, unless Jins Revenue is risen from beyond the grave and here to wreak horrible vengeance on me, let 'em through. Or I'll die of boredom, and it'll be on your watch."
The Private hesitated, and for a split second Brody wondered if the unfamiliar person seeking entry to his room might actually be someone to worry about; the figure that became visible when he stepped aside, however, was unmistakable.
"Really, Private?" Brody snarked, "Getting all up in arms over a pregnant girl?"
Though Brody couldn't see his face, the slight shrug of his shoulders meant he'd struck just the right chord of embarrassment. Rolling his eyes, Brody turned to Kyanite. Kind of sad that of the handful of times they'd met, this was the first that nobody was covered in tears or blood.
Taking that bullet wasn't for naught, at least.
"Fancy meeting you here."
ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
c44462 - Kyanite Ruze
bb7d00 - Nolan O'Rourke
Frocking- being pinned with rank insignia of promotion
Salty- military slang for someone with experience/time in service
