James Ford (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sorrydontsuitme) wrote2009-01-05 10:04 pm
sorrydontsuitme) wrote2009-01-05 10:04 pm
(no subject)
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
His head don't feel so good; he's on the ground. Someplace outside, he realizes fuzzily as he starts to come around, but it don't smell like home. Hell, he ain't smelled home in months now but at least their part of the damn island smells familiar.
This don't.
As the world comes into focus and he sits up, he realizes he's in... a damn cage. Son of a bitch! And he ain't the only one: there's another cage across the walkway and a little ways away, a building with that damn Dharma logo on it. He'll figure out about that later, but for how all his attention's on the cage across the way.
'Cause it ain't empty. "Hey." The guy in Cage #2 looks over but doesn't say nothing. Time to try again. "Where are we? Who the hell are you?" Nothing. "Oh, you ain't gonna talk to me? What, you got more important things to do?"
At least two people can play that game and so long as Mr. Silent over there ain't one of theirs, he don't really care who the hell he is. Now he's upright, time to figure out how to get out of this cage. It looks solid, like the cages at older zoos. On one wall there's a button covered in some kind of Plexiglas; they got a fork and knife printed on it and a chute protrudes from the wall below it. That don't look so hard to figure out. In other parts of the cage there's a few levers. Bells and whistles, he guesses, things like that. They sure ain't just for decoration; he pushes the button.
Warning.
The voice comes from nowhere and everywhere and that's just fine and dandy. Warning for what? He pushes the button again.
Warning.
Now the guy from across the way pipes up, finally, just as he's about to push the button a third time. "I wouldn't do that."
"If I want your advice, I'll ask for it." Son of a bitch couldn't be bothered to answer before, so why should he listen to him now? Screw that; he presses the button and damn, that smarts. Damn thing's electrified, sends him flying across the cage to the bars on the other side. "Son of a bitch!"
"Told you."
(Damn know-it-all.)
The levers have his attention now. You pull this one, then press that one, then...
"Hey. Hey, how long would it take to get to your camp?" The guy on the other side's just a damn kid. Probably no more than sixteen, seventeen.
"What, you talking to me now, Chachi?"
The kid nods. "From where they got you, how long a walk was it? A day, two days? And what are the people like from your plane?"
Well, he's curious, ain't he. "Oh, they're just awesome." He turns his attention back to the levers. No, you press this one, then pull that one. "Last one of you boys came for a visit got tortured by our Iraqi. He tortured me, too. But hell, he don't know any better." No, maybe it's push this one, then pull this one, then pull that one... what the hell? How'd the kid get his cage door open? And he wasn't even watching.
Now the damn loudspeaker announces it. "Subject escaped. Subject escaped."
When the kid comes over to pick the lock on his cage, the whole escapin' thing starts to make sense. Still, he has to ask. "Hey, how'd you get out of there?"
The kid just opens his door and points. "Run that way."
Hold on... what the hell's goin' on, and where the hell's Freckles? The doc? "Hold on!"
"You run that way!" Kid's insistent, he's gotta give him that, and so he starts running. The kid runs the other way and it looks like they might just make it -- where, he doesn't know -- and then this blond lady shows up out of nowhere.
"Hey," she says with a smile. Whatever she shoots him with is good and it works fast.
It was a good try and he doesn't know what happened to the kid, but he sure as hell knows he ain't gettin' out of this cage again any time soon. What he can do is get himself a rock, and he stretches his arm through the bars until he grabs it. Aha: he might just have to be triumphant about that. Once he's got it he puts it on one of those levers, then takes off his shoe and throws it at the other lever.
Bingo! A song starts playing, and a voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Reward, reward." That chute near the button? A big old biscuit shaped like a fish comes out of it.
"Oh, come on." What the hell is this? "Unbelievable."
Next, a whole damn pile of food pellets comes out of the same chute. That cracker tastes terrible, but it's better than nothin', which is what he's had. He takes a bite, and a minute later water comes out of a pipe. He didn't realize how thirsty he's been and it tastes better than almost anything. But he stops. In the distance he hears a man's voice telling someone to keep moving. He watches, waits... and tries not to let his jaw drop too far when he sees it's Freckles. She's going in the damn cage across the way and he ain't sure if he ought to laugh or cry.
And it's that same son of a bitch -- Tom, that's what they said his name is -- who stole Walt off the boat. He locks her in, tells her to stick her arms out through the bars so he can take off her cuffs. Like he's concerned, he goes on. "They scratched you up pretty bad, didn't they? I'll bring you some antiseptic later."
How come ain't no one offering him no damn antiseptic? "How about you bring me an ottoman? While you're at it I could use a blow dry."
Tom gets all friendly and everything. "Hey, you got yourself a fish biscuit. How'd you do that?"
"I figured out your complicated gizmos, that's how." Only took a little damn ingenuity.
"Only took the bears 2 hours." Sure, be a son of a bitch and walk out after delivering a line like that. He calls after Zeke there as he leaves.
"How many of them were there?"
And then... well, then he turns his attention to Freckles. She don't look so very happy and he can't say he blames her. It'd sure be a hell of a lot easier if they were seven hours from Mars.
His head don't feel so good; he's on the ground. Someplace outside, he realizes fuzzily as he starts to come around, but it don't smell like home. Hell, he ain't smelled home in months now but at least their part of the damn island smells familiar.
This don't.
As the world comes into focus and he sits up, he realizes he's in... a damn cage. Son of a bitch! And he ain't the only one: there's another cage across the walkway and a little ways away, a building with that damn Dharma logo on it. He'll figure out about that later, but for how all his attention's on the cage across the way.
'Cause it ain't empty. "Hey." The guy in Cage #2 looks over but doesn't say nothing. Time to try again. "Where are we? Who the hell are you?" Nothing. "Oh, you ain't gonna talk to me? What, you got more important things to do?"
At least two people can play that game and so long as Mr. Silent over there ain't one of theirs, he don't really care who the hell he is. Now he's upright, time to figure out how to get out of this cage. It looks solid, like the cages at older zoos. On one wall there's a button covered in some kind of Plexiglas; they got a fork and knife printed on it and a chute protrudes from the wall below it. That don't look so hard to figure out. In other parts of the cage there's a few levers. Bells and whistles, he guesses, things like that. They sure ain't just for decoration; he pushes the button.
Warning.
The voice comes from nowhere and everywhere and that's just fine and dandy. Warning for what? He pushes the button again.
Warning.
Now the guy from across the way pipes up, finally, just as he's about to push the button a third time. "I wouldn't do that."
"If I want your advice, I'll ask for it." Son of a bitch couldn't be bothered to answer before, so why should he listen to him now? Screw that; he presses the button and damn, that smarts. Damn thing's electrified, sends him flying across the cage to the bars on the other side. "Son of a bitch!"
"Told you."
(Damn know-it-all.)
The levers have his attention now. You pull this one, then press that one, then...
"Hey. Hey, how long would it take to get to your camp?" The guy on the other side's just a damn kid. Probably no more than sixteen, seventeen.
"What, you talking to me now, Chachi?"
The kid nods. "From where they got you, how long a walk was it? A day, two days? And what are the people like from your plane?"
Well, he's curious, ain't he. "Oh, they're just awesome." He turns his attention back to the levers. No, you press this one, then pull that one. "Last one of you boys came for a visit got tortured by our Iraqi. He tortured me, too. But hell, he don't know any better." No, maybe it's push this one, then pull this one, then pull that one... what the hell? How'd the kid get his cage door open? And he wasn't even watching.
Now the damn loudspeaker announces it. "Subject escaped. Subject escaped."
When the kid comes over to pick the lock on his cage, the whole escapin' thing starts to make sense. Still, he has to ask. "Hey, how'd you get out of there?"
The kid just opens his door and points. "Run that way."
Hold on... what the hell's goin' on, and where the hell's Freckles? The doc? "Hold on!"
"You run that way!" Kid's insistent, he's gotta give him that, and so he starts running. The kid runs the other way and it looks like they might just make it -- where, he doesn't know -- and then this blond lady shows up out of nowhere.
"Hey," she says with a smile. Whatever she shoots him with is good and it works fast.
It was a good try and he doesn't know what happened to the kid, but he sure as hell knows he ain't gettin' out of this cage again any time soon. What he can do is get himself a rock, and he stretches his arm through the bars until he grabs it. Aha: he might just have to be triumphant about that. Once he's got it he puts it on one of those levers, then takes off his shoe and throws it at the other lever.
Bingo! A song starts playing, and a voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Reward, reward." That chute near the button? A big old biscuit shaped like a fish comes out of it.
"Oh, come on." What the hell is this? "Unbelievable."
Next, a whole damn pile of food pellets comes out of the same chute. That cracker tastes terrible, but it's better than nothin', which is what he's had. He takes a bite, and a minute later water comes out of a pipe. He didn't realize how thirsty he's been and it tastes better than almost anything. But he stops. In the distance he hears a man's voice telling someone to keep moving. He watches, waits... and tries not to let his jaw drop too far when he sees it's Freckles. She's going in the damn cage across the way and he ain't sure if he ought to laugh or cry.
And it's that same son of a bitch -- Tom, that's what they said his name is -- who stole Walt off the boat. He locks her in, tells her to stick her arms out through the bars so he can take off her cuffs. Like he's concerned, he goes on. "They scratched you up pretty bad, didn't they? I'll bring you some antiseptic later."
How come ain't no one offering him no damn antiseptic? "How about you bring me an ottoman? While you're at it I could use a blow dry."
Tom gets all friendly and everything. "Hey, you got yourself a fish biscuit. How'd you do that?"
"I figured out your complicated gizmos, that's how." Only took a little damn ingenuity.
"Only took the bears 2 hours." Sure, be a son of a bitch and walk out after delivering a line like that. He calls after Zeke there as he leaves.
"How many of them were there?"
And then... well, then he turns his attention to Freckles. She don't look so very happy and he can't say he blames her. It'd sure be a hell of a lot easier if they were seven hours from Mars.
no subject
The failure to free herself hurts more. The lack of freedom -- how much worse can it get than a cage -- hurts more.
And the relief over seeing Sawyer only makes her throat tighten up more.
The corners of her mouth twitch unhappily, and she bites the inside of her bottom lip. She's cried too much lately; she's had enough.
no subject
"You okay, Freckles?"
She don't look okay, but they're both locked in damn cages. How the hell are they supposed to be okay? The only saving grace is they're not alone any more: they've got each other. Even from across the way, they've got each other.
There's that, and the knowledge that sooner or later time will be up and they'll be out of here just like that.
no subject
He looks rough -- she must look the same way -- but it's possible she's never been so glad to see him.
"You?"
no subject
He won't ask unless she wants to tell, but he knows those cuffs were way too tight on her wrists. That's visible from here.
Damn it.
But for her, he musters a tired little smile. "Just swell. I requested that cage, but whatever." Might as well go through the motions of normalcy, even if there ain't a damn thing normal about the situation. "Nice dress."
If he could get any closer to her, he would.
no subject
"They made me wear it."
She'd love to joke about it. She hates that he's watching her so closely he can probably see every hint of vulnerability that crosses her face.
No jokes come, though -- they burned her clothes and made her put on a dress just so they could stick her in a cage? -- and she averts her eyes, looking anywhere but at Sawyer's face. There are so many questions she wants to ask. What did they do to him? Did he have a cotton ball taped on his arm, too? Has he been in that cage the whole time? Did he meet Ben?
Has he seen Jack?
But she doesn't put voice to any of them; she doesn't trust herself to talk too much at the moment.
She's spent three years on the run. She hates being behind these bars.
no subject
At least there's one thing he can do.
"You hungry?"
Once you get used to 'em, those fish biscuits ain't so bad. Freckles catches it neatly. Looks like he's got damn fine aim for a guy who's been stuck in a cage.
no subject
It's shaped like a fish. Is this what they gave him to eat while she got treated to her creepy breakfast with Ben?
She could've done without it, and since she barely took advantage of the food they placed in front of her, she might as well have done without it.
Sawyer gets a quick grateful look but no words before she bites into the biscuit. It's no fruit and coffee, but it's what she's got and it's better than nothing. Better than eating with Ben.
If the Others are aiming for unpleasant, they're off to a good start.
no subject
At least now they ain't alone and apart, and that counts. Live together, die alone, huh? Maybe there's something to that after all and one way or another, they'll figure something out. And as crappy as the biscuits are, at least they know how to get food.
On their own damn terms. They'll survive.