nightlogs | welcome to the party, pal

Entry tags:

welcome to the party, pal

Who: Branch, Miguel, Tim, Boba, Dan, and Stacia
What: The supply and prisoner exchange
Where: The emptied out workroom floor
When: After all of Branch's chaos.
Warnings/Notes: Some blood, eventual cw mentions of cannibalism probably when Branch is hashing it out with Dan and Stacia, I'll put warnings in the subject.

[It's going to plan. And the heightened chaos is making it exactly as distracting and chaotic a situation as he was hoping for. The floor is cleared and there are people leading Elves and yetis to areas they've cleared, but traps can still be heard going off, sometimes randomly. Occasionally there's the angry argleblorgleblorg of a yeti getting chili powder exploding out of an air cannon to their face.]

[In some areas where traps were already set off and cleared, somehow (read: thanks to his 14-year-old secret accomplice) they've been reset, only to go off again.]

[It leaves things nice and unsettled and distracting.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Boba feels Miguel grab his wrist and--

With his free hand Boba grabs the small woodcarving knife he stole earlier from his pants pocket. He goes for the lower part of the inner elbow, aiming for the tendons that lead down to the hand. If the blade cuts through those Miguel's grip will weaken and Boba might be able to get away.

All of this passes through Boba's mind in a split second; it isn't a decision. One moment he feel pressure on the wrist and next he has the blade in his hand. It's instinctive. Ten years of training and four years of fending for himself against the galaxy.

He's already bringing the knife down when he realizes this might be a mistake. But it's too late.]

Edited (idk if it actually needs a content warning but just in case?) 2023-08-30 22:54 (UTC)

[ The surprise knife isn't expected, though maybe it should have been, given how tightly the kid clung to the blowtorch the first time they met.

The nanotech of his suit catches some of the blade like a soft-bodied armor, but enough sinks deeply into his skin to send a shock of pain up his arm. His talons scrape skin - it was just a reflex for them to spring out - but he manages to flex them back into place before they hook in and do too much damage. It took no shortage of effort to restrain himself like that, but the last thing they need is a repeat of his first attempt to save someone. ]

Kid...

[ It's pinning time now. Miguel was taking them on a field trip to the ground, and may knock the wind out of him. But he'll go no further than that. Boba looked roughed up enough as is. ]

[Even with the claws scrape against his skin, Boba doesn't wait ot try and get away.

The cut must not have been deep enough. His grip spasms but doesn't loosen. Boba's tugging as hard as he can, aggravated his almost-healed burns and bruises, but it's no use.

Miguel pins him on the ground. It does knock the wind out of him, but only for a moment. It isn't long before he starts yelling and struggling against the weight.]

Get off me! Let me go! Let me go!

[This will continue until he wears himself out. His thrashing gets weaker and weaker. His energy reserves are too low to last much longer.

It takes a few minutes for him to go limp, completely exhausted. He looks past Miguel's shoulder. There's a blank expression on his face.]

[ It's chaotic, and it doesn't feel great at all to have to take it to this point. Miguel decides to simply weather the thrashing and hitting, closing his eyes here or there to prevent fingers or elbows from being jabbed in painfully.

Once it's evident that the kid wasn't going to reach for the knife to stab him a second time, he eases his hold. He's relieved to see that the talons' scratches were shallow, but unnerved that he'd gone completely limp. ]

...I'm letting go now. Can you move?

[ He releases his hold, sitting back on his haunches. In the mess, he'd forgotten about the still bleeding wound in the crook of his arm, and he pulls out the knife. The blood was an unusual shade of purplish-red, and oozes out freely. It would heal itself soon enough. ]

[Boba doesn't know if he can move. He doesn't care enough to try.]

Kriff off.

[There's a little venom in his voice, but it's mostly for show. He can't seem to summon the same amount of anger as before. Everything seems... a little removed. Like when you look up at hyperspace and see the stars streaking past. Everything else is moving too quickly and too far away while you feel very, very still.

He's shivering a little. Fear, exhaustion, low blood sugar-- there could be plenty of reasons.

Boba only yelled for Miguel to get off and leave him alone. He hasn't once cried out for help.]

Edited 2023-08-31 05:19 (UTC)

[ Lovely. Miguel happened to know a thing or two about venom, in the literal sense and when applied to words. He doesn’t take it personally. ]

If you don’t move, then I’m going to carry you to where you can get something to eat.

[ This kid might quite literally need an apple juice if he hadn’t eaten in a long enough time, so he doesn’t pass out entirely. ]

Think about it this way: After some food, you’ll probably be able to punch better.

[ Since they’re getting all friendly, why not a sardonic remark? As a treat? ]

[Boba doesn't move. What's the point? He's just going to do whatever he wants anyway. It doesn't matter if Boba goes along with it or not. Now it's just waiting until someone decides what punishment he deserves.]

Usen'ye.*

[Miguel's lost Basic privileges.

(Only speaking Mando'a always pisses off the guards. They would get meaner, but things would get over with quicker. Less waiting and anticipation.)]

(*Fuck off.)

...

[ Joke's on you, Boba. This Spider-Man is an interdimensional traveler and feels a little curious about what language he's using to tell him to fuck off. Making an internal note of that for later. ]

How about this: I can call someone down to bring you some food here, or I carry you in a very undignified fashion. It's up to you.

[ he's dead serious. ]

You'll need to tell me which you prefer.

Gar mirshe ni copaani urcir ner catar.*

[Boba's feeling especially difficult now. He's not going to eat. He's not going to move. If Miguel wants him to do anything, he'll have to make him.

Boba just wants to get it over with. Whatever retribution is coming, please just get it over with.]

N'ijaat shabuir.*

(*Literally: Your head i want to meet my boot.)

*Honorless asshole.)

Que sorpresa. El mocoso bravo piensa que es chistoso. Vamos, pues.

[ Since they’re having fun with languages, Miguel will drop his English too. Now they can talk past each other all the way to the next location.

Anyway, he didn’t make an empty threat. He’s hoisting Boba over his shoulder like he was dealing with a kid throwing a tantrum at a water park. Flop! Like a sack of potatoes. His punishment is being carted around in a mildly embarrassing way to somewhere they can help him with his condition.

Although there was some blood from the stab wound streaking down his forearm, his suit appeared to seal over once it regenerated. A stopgap until he patches up yet another wound. But first, it was time to see if he can call someone else over the comm... ]

* What a surprise. The ferocious brat thinks he is funny. Let's go, then.

[It took a while to convince Boba to eat, he wasn't feeling very cooperative, but once he did, the adrenaline crash hit him hard. He practically passed out onto the empty plate.

He hasn't claimed a place to sleep yet, he hasn't even slept since he got here, so Miguel carried him to an unoccupied room and left him there for the time being.

Boba wakes up alone in a bed he wasn't in when he fell asleep, in a room he's never seen before.

He doesn't open his eyes or move. He tries to keep his breathing steady. And he listens. It doesn't sound like there's anyone in the room with him, so he risks opening his eyes a little.

All clear. He risks turning his head.

Still clear.

He slips out of the bed as quietly as he can. His body is aching, he pushed himself too hard for too long, but that won't stop him now.

He explores the room, making note of potential hiding places and weapons (there aren't a lot of the latter, someone must've gone through and baby-proofed the place), before trying the door.

Boba tries to test the handle as quietly as possible, but he can't keep it from rattling a little as he checks to see if it's locked. He hopes nobody heard that.]

[ A familiar Someone is at the other end of the door. Though, he doesn't immediately turn to acknowledge the kid. Miguel has his head and forearms buried in a server rack-like cabinet that he was constructing for a work space. The noodly aluminum sliding racks took time to assemble together and align correctly, so he was doing them one at a time from the top down. It was painfully archaic and time-consuming compared to what he could put together in Nueva York, but it'll be necessary for their missions.

In the meantime, it appears that he was assigned to be the local Lucky-Wrangler, since he can't stop himself from being the Guy Who Steps Up. Especially not after seeing how Boba knocked the fuck out the instant he got something of a meal. However, unable to stay away from his work for too long, he found a compromise. Keep an eye on feral boy, get necessary work done.

So, outside of the room was a scattered amount of supplies around his space. It was organized chaos - the tools all in one area and building materials in another. Screwdrivers weren't as effective as knives, but maybe they could be useful in a pinch. ]

[Boba cracks the door open to see his guard, and it looks like he's settled in for the long-haul. He was really hoping that he wouldn't have to try the window, but it looks like he may not have a choice.

Maybe he can sneak around and come back in through another door to find a new hiding place? Just until he figures out how to get his hands on one of the globes. It would be risky. He knows how to handle the wet and the cold, but he's never actually had to deal with snow before. He'd only seen it in picture before he was brought here.

There's a hydrospanner-looking tool sitting close to the door. He could probably reach it, but it would risk exposing himself. It doesn't look like Miguel's noticed him yet, and that would give him both a tool and a weapon.

He decides to risk it.

As quietly as he can, barely daring to breathe, Boba crouches down and reaches out for the tool. He carefully lifts it with his fingers before getting a firmer grasp. Hopefully Miguel is too focused to look over his shoulder.]

Don't.

[ Miguel had already known he was awake when he heard the shuffling around in Boba's room. If it sometimes seems like he has eyes in the back of his head, it is from the spidery enhanced hearing and simple parent instinct.

His head appears out of the cabinet, looking stern but not angry, as seemed to be his default state around the kid. ]

How are you feeling? Still dizzy?

Edited 2023-09-01 14:37 (UTC)

[Boba freezes. The tool slips out of his grip and clatters onto the floor.

The question makes him take stock. How is he feeling? Not dizzy. Tired, ache, and his head throbs dully. His brain feels like it's stuffed full of swirling clouds, like Bespin. The meal and a night's rest did Boba good but he needs more of both before he's going to be back to baseline.]

Fine.

[He wants to go back in the room and hide. Maybe make for the window.

He want to know what Miguel wants more, so he doesn't move. The crouching position isn't the most comfortable, but he can deal with it.]

Edited 2023-09-01 23:20 (UTC)

[ In a very deadpan tone: ]

Here. Food is a thing you need to do semi-regularly.

[ It appears that Miguel came prepared.... with a deli sandwich. He was wearing a coat over his suit, since the latter lacked pockets and the interior of pockets was where many of his tools were sitting. And so, out of his coat came a plastic-wrapped breakfast for him.

He lets Boba have a little forewarning before tossing it over. If he can get Lucky the kid to eat two meals, even if its sequestered in his room somewhere, it'll already be better than whatever he was doing before. ]

[Boba scowls. It's not like he wasn't eating on purpose. He just... forgot. It's hard to remember when he's so used to having his meals given to him at scheduled times.

He catches the sandwich. It gets squished into a pocket for later.]

What do you want?

[It's a genuine question and an accusation in one.]

You shouldn’t wait too long to eat that. Cold deli can make you sick if it gets old.

[ it’s possible that the Boy’s dimension does not have cheese and ham. He shouldn’t skip the meal either, so it works both ways. Anyway, as for the question: ]

And what I want is to finish this rack to start installing hardware, but I have to keep an eye on you, clearly.

[ so he is doing both! ]

[Boba reluctantly pulls out the sandwich. It got a little smushed. He unwraps it and takes a bite.

It's... weird. Different from anything he's eaten before. Almost overwhelming, considering how long he's been living off of the bland slop they serve in prison.

Once he's finished he crumbles up the plastic wrap, shoves it into his pocket, and hesitantly steps forward. Not enough to leave the doorway, he can still quickly duck back into the room if he has to, but enough to get a slightly better look at what Miguel's doing.]

You wouldn't have to keep an eye on me if you just let me leave.

[ Lucky's been awake for ten minutes and already goes back to that. ]

Why not give it a few weeks? At least get yourself up to speed before you decide if you want to leave.

[ Myths functioned differently from your regular baseline humans, but the kid was still recuperating. Miguel would still rather he get taken care of until he was back to full health.

As for what he was working on - it was at least a peculiar object. Solid wood and sculpted details mixed with more industrial-looking brackets used for computer hardware. The project had clearly involved some amount of creative crafting to merge together. ]

[Yeah, like he believes that. It might be a good idea to go along with things for now. Just until he's gained enough trust that he's allowed more freedom.

If they allow him more freedom.]

...Fine. I guess.

[Boba doesn't really know who's supposed to be in charge here, but it looks like Miguel's taking responsibility for him. He doesn't understand it. Boba doesn't have access to any of his accounts, or his ship, or his weapons. Unless Miguel wants to use his training and experience to fight (and he's really not sure if that's the case), Boba has nothing to give him. Why is he investing so much time and energy?

He takes a few cautious steps further and lets the door shut behind him. He might as well start earning some of that trust.]

What are you building?

[ Well, Lucky clearly doesn't like the arrangement, but its a start. As much as he resisted wanting to get too attached to the kid, it looks like he would be taking responsibility... for now. ]

A computer. The technology here is lacking compared to my world, but if I get enough hardware together... It should be enough for what we need.

[ dimensional travel, eventually. ]

[Boba starts examining the parts from a distance. He's trying to be subtle, but probably isn't succeeding.

Some of parts look completely foreign to him. Some look more familiar. He spent a lot of time taking apart and rebuilding all of the systems in Slave I. Plus all the times he helped his dad repair his gear, or slice into comlinks and datapads, or build weapons and gear from leftover parts.

Boba knows a lot about how to build things. Especially ships. Back on Kamino he filled a lot of hours with every technical manual he could get his hands on. And every book he could get his hands on. And every hologame he could get his hands on.

He had a lot of hours to fill on Kamino.]

What's the computer going to do?

I'm going to be studying this dimension.

[ he does notice the kid's interest in what he was working on. It's not unwelcome. It's better to have him curious about computer parts rather than fearful and trying to stab people with screwdrivers. ]

With some luck, I'll be able to gain some insight into this end of the Multiverse and find a way to stop the threat here before it spreads.

[ eyebrow quirk. ]

Would you like to take a closer look?

[Boba's mind starts going over the possibilities. With easy access to tech he may not be as trapped and defenseless as he thought. He could start collecting stuff, building stuff. Maybe even his own blaster...

Yeah. Yeah, this sounds like a good plan. If Miguel is going to keep a close eye on him, he might as well be productive with it.

Boba picks up the screwdriver, walks up and sits on the floor near Miguel. He's out of immediate arm's reach with a straight shot to the door of the bedroom. But he's close enough to be able to see what the other man is doing.]

...Yeah.

[His answer is a little late considering that he already sat down.

He holds out the screwdriver as a peace offering.]

cw: attempted stabbing

cw: successful stabbing

cw: emotional breakdown

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Time skip: the next day

the aftermath continues.......

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject