Cpt. Nathaniel Renko, Special Forces (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cpt_timeruiner) wrote2012-09-23 10:17 pm
cpt_timeruiner) wrote2012-09-23 10:17 pm
Entry tags:
Look Down, The Ground Below Is Crumbling
who; Captain Nathaniel Renko and Captain James Devlin… sort of
what; Nate Renko goes to visit an old friend
where ; Washington, D.C.
when ; 2010
warning(s); angst, mild cursing
notes; “Third Option” ending used
It took Renko almost a year to trek from Russia, across Europe, and to the east coast of what had been America. Long enough to be forgotten, at least. Especially since he’d had to book passage into Canada; no one went to the east coast anymore. Rumors of horrible monsters and radiation. As if Renko was afraid of radiation, having a radioactive time-altering gauntlet on his arm.
D.C. is a wasteland, as he’d expected. But he knows his way around well enough to get where he’s going. And while the grass may have died out a long time ago, there were still enough tombstones to mark where Arlington once had been. He slept in the husk of a tree that night, before dragging a piece of stone into what was roughly a proper spot, and moved on again. There were things he needed to do, to try to get things working again. Working in a way that wasn’t civil war.
Renko doesn’t get back to D.C. often after that. The man he put in charge of security doesn’t want to risk his men going in there… and doesn’t want to risk Renko going alone. Though they call him Devlin now. It was the only name he’d been able to think of when the first person – one of his current seconds – had asked to join him. ‘Renko’ would have gotten unwanted attention, he knows… but sometimes he can’t stand hearing ‘Commander Devlin’ or ‘Devlin, sir’. When it gets unbearable he goes back to the former capitol, the security chief fussing and arguing all the way until Renko snaps and threatens to feed him to the Reverts. He hates the way the chief looks at him when he says that. Makes him want to put his head through the nearest drywall. Instead he just goes back to the cemetery.
He goes alone. He sleeps in the husk of a tree again, and stops in front of the stone he’d placed. It’s not a proper tombstone, really, just a piece of rubble he’d been able to haul back. Not infused with E-99, so he had to do all the lifting himself. He sits.
“This would be a lot easier if you were here,” he announces to the stone. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I could just use some help.” Renko pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. “Why’d you go and get yourself shot, you stupid bastard.”
He wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, but he’d been worried about Devlin when he’d heard those transmissions. If his equipment hadn’t been broken he would have answered. He always answered. No, you’re not going Section Eight unless I am too, because this is seriously fucked up. I saw the same monsters, stay safe, I’m on my way. He might have even said something after they’d been captured, but something about Demichev’s keen gaze told him words wouldn’t do him any good. And then he hadn’t had time to mourn.
Ironic. Renko controlled time but it always just slipped through his fingers.
He remembers Devlin grinning at him wolfishly as he moved a rook forward on a worn wooden chessboard, taking a swig of beer as Renko leaned forward to knock over his checkmated king, muttering curses and, ‘You are so lucky I like you’. Devlin pushing the board and pieces away, hand wrapping around the back of Renko’s neck to pull him into a kiss after murmuring, ‘Shut up, Nate.’
“Why did you have to fucking leave me alone here?!” he shouts, bringing his hand up and clenching his fingers to deliver an impulse without thinking about it. He didn’t brace and the force of the blast knocks him back, but the stone still sits unmoved. Renko groans quietly as he pushes himself back up, his anger similarly knocked out of him. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, James. Jesus, I really screwed the pooch this time, didn’t I? And I can’t fix it. There’s no way to un-fuck this one. What am I supposed to do?”
He’s no leader. At least, Renko had never thought of himself as one. He’d just been a soldier. Another drone in the hive, as Demichev had so eloquently put it.
Funnily enough, the stone doesn’t answer him. He’d hoped it would.
He stares at the stone until a voice crackles over his comm. Security chief, tone cautious. He’s not wrong to sound that way, after Renko’s outburst. “Commander Devlin-“ (it feels like a Zek tearing at his chest) “-we should get moving.” He knows his chief is right. Sighs again and stands. After a few more moments he points the TMD at the rock one last time.
“I’m coming to meet you,” he says evenly, aging the message he left on the rock.
CPT J.D.
BEST CHESS PLAYER I EVER KNEW
what; Nate Renko goes to visit an old friend
where ; Washington, D.C.
when ; 2010
warning(s); angst, mild cursing
notes; “Third Option” ending used
It took Renko almost a year to trek from Russia, across Europe, and to the east coast of what had been America. Long enough to be forgotten, at least. Especially since he’d had to book passage into Canada; no one went to the east coast anymore. Rumors of horrible monsters and radiation. As if Renko was afraid of radiation, having a radioactive time-altering gauntlet on his arm.
D.C. is a wasteland, as he’d expected. But he knows his way around well enough to get where he’s going. And while the grass may have died out a long time ago, there were still enough tombstones to mark where Arlington once had been. He slept in the husk of a tree that night, before dragging a piece of stone into what was roughly a proper spot, and moved on again. There were things he needed to do, to try to get things working again. Working in a way that wasn’t civil war.
Renko doesn’t get back to D.C. often after that. The man he put in charge of security doesn’t want to risk his men going in there… and doesn’t want to risk Renko going alone. Though they call him Devlin now. It was the only name he’d been able to think of when the first person – one of his current seconds – had asked to join him. ‘Renko’ would have gotten unwanted attention, he knows… but sometimes he can’t stand hearing ‘Commander Devlin’ or ‘Devlin, sir’. When it gets unbearable he goes back to the former capitol, the security chief fussing and arguing all the way until Renko snaps and threatens to feed him to the Reverts. He hates the way the chief looks at him when he says that. Makes him want to put his head through the nearest drywall. Instead he just goes back to the cemetery.
He goes alone. He sleeps in the husk of a tree again, and stops in front of the stone he’d placed. It’s not a proper tombstone, really, just a piece of rubble he’d been able to haul back. Not infused with E-99, so he had to do all the lifting himself. He sits.
“This would be a lot easier if you were here,” he announces to the stone. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I could just use some help.” Renko pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. “Why’d you go and get yourself shot, you stupid bastard.”
He wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, but he’d been worried about Devlin when he’d heard those transmissions. If his equipment hadn’t been broken he would have answered. He always answered. No, you’re not going Section Eight unless I am too, because this is seriously fucked up. I saw the same monsters, stay safe, I’m on my way. He might have even said something after they’d been captured, but something about Demichev’s keen gaze told him words wouldn’t do him any good. And then he hadn’t had time to mourn.
Ironic. Renko controlled time but it always just slipped through his fingers.
He remembers Devlin grinning at him wolfishly as he moved a rook forward on a worn wooden chessboard, taking a swig of beer as Renko leaned forward to knock over his checkmated king, muttering curses and, ‘You are so lucky I like you’. Devlin pushing the board and pieces away, hand wrapping around the back of Renko’s neck to pull him into a kiss after murmuring, ‘Shut up, Nate.’
“Why did you have to fucking leave me alone here?!” he shouts, bringing his hand up and clenching his fingers to deliver an impulse without thinking about it. He didn’t brace and the force of the blast knocks him back, but the stone still sits unmoved. Renko groans quietly as he pushes himself back up, his anger similarly knocked out of him. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, James. Jesus, I really screwed the pooch this time, didn’t I? And I can’t fix it. There’s no way to un-fuck this one. What am I supposed to do?”
He’s no leader. At least, Renko had never thought of himself as one. He’d just been a soldier. Another drone in the hive, as Demichev had so eloquently put it.
Funnily enough, the stone doesn’t answer him. He’d hoped it would.
He stares at the stone until a voice crackles over his comm. Security chief, tone cautious. He’s not wrong to sound that way, after Renko’s outburst. “Commander Devlin-“ (it feels like a Zek tearing at his chest) “-we should get moving.” He knows his chief is right. Sighs again and stands. After a few more moments he points the TMD at the rock one last time.
“I’m coming to meet you,” he says evenly, aging the message he left on the rock.
BEST CHESS PLAYER I EVER KNEW