But I get results, that's the difference between me and them. They play it safe and back off when it gets too hot. I always get my man.
Hell, my arrest rates are higher than some Judges twice my age! 2.45% seems like a fair trade off to me.
[Even if those serious injuries, statistically speaking, have ticked up towards happening after the line's decommissioning. But hey - correlation isn't causation.]
You think all I know how to do is wave a gun around and rattle off judicial code? I could do fine print contractual language in my sleep. Which is great, because it sends me straight drokking to it.
Despite what you think, Judges donβt just boot down doors and crack heads. Sure, we do that a lot and I happen to look great doing it, but we also deal with corporate law, tax evasion, divorce proceedings, small claims, immigrationβ¦ weβre trained to handle it all.
Right, and if I were negotiating contract - or looking for a loophole in contract - and wanted a second opinion, I'd trust you for it. I don't doubt your abilities.
But how much do you know about Tradeliner code? I've memorised the thing, I know it backwards, and I know what'll hold up as reasonable interpretation and what any captain will come down heavy on even if maybe it's within code if you squint enough, because of custom and precedent. It'd be like if one of your citizens made an insightful, logically coherent taxation-is-theft argument to you - it'd be accepted immediately out in my sector, but you'd still want to make them pay up, wouldn't you?
[Backing down from a fight goes against every instinct in his body and he's well past the point of being able to, even if he wanted. Rico has options, too. He could trigger the shock collar, thatβd shake the fucker right up and teach him a lesson about reaching in when heβs not allowed to. His thumb hovers over the control switch, this close to doing it, but what stops him is watching the blood cascade from Criusβ face as he sinks his grip deeper into him, like he doesn't know or care it's happening.
Electricity isnβt a subtle tool - itβd drop him in an instant, but he can't risk making the damage worse to whatever neurons are firing off, make his soulmate more of an actual brain dead fucking idiot than he already is. Crius is hurting himself right now cracking Rico open, a thought fueled by agitation and uneasiness with every fresh wave of blood that he sees pouring out, and it makes him think of blood vessels and brain bleeds from dead and dying things with the jarring impact from his boot caving in their skulls. He needs to stop, they both need to stop. Rico can't, and the solution that comes to mind distracts him for a second, and thatβs all Crius needs to pry him open the rest of the way. And the recent memory he finds there, the reason for all this:
Cold drink in hand, pleasantly buzzed with his crew until somebody makes a joke and it's not so pleasant anymore - "...first time I've seen a soulmate being made to stick around", "..you're a real catch, Captain...", "...taking bets for when that thing comes off? I'll start with ten seconds, and that's if soldier boy stops to grab his things on the way out-". He laughs along, ha ha ha, fury and embarrassment mounting, still pressing on his thoughts long after the topic changes, turning into something about how Crius is counting down the seconds, laughing at him in secret as if this fucked-up thing could ever lead to more, angered into impulsive action, fueled by insecurity-
In reality, Ricoβs fists uncurl. He wraps his right hand around his index finger of his left hand.
He can't risk hurting Crius physically. But what he can do is make him feel it. This has gone on long enough.
There's a perfectly calm, crystal clear moment in his mind as he braces himself, and that's the only warning Crius gets before he wrenches it back as far as it can go. There's a sharp crack, and he howls out loud. White-hot pain radiates from the break, and Rico gags in pain as he squeezes down tighter on it and grinds the edges of the broken bones against each other. Humiliation, resentment, violation-
[Out he does indeed get, Crius' hold on Rico's thoughts and the connection both snapping like a brittle branch. And even with him completely separated from the other, the finger on Crius' corresponding hand throbs red hot in sympathy with Rico's own injury. As it fades, his own woes start becoming apparent and the nausea he was experiencing comes back full force.
He stumbles to his feet and to the bathroom, only just making it in time not to evacuate his stomach all over the floor. He finishes with a groan and flushes, then leans his head back against the bulkhead. With his system cleared out he feels more sober than he was before, but not so clear that the hungover aftereffect of overexerting himself doesn't mix with the queasiness of the liqour.
Why did he do this again?
Right, Rico. He sighs and pounds- more knocks, really- his fist against the floor.]
Morus.
[Foolish. Idiot. And he includes himself in that statement as much as he does one Captain Rico Dredd. They just went head to head- quite literally- over Rico's insecurity. And as much as he wants to place all the blame on Rico, he could have figured a way out of the room and dealt with consequences later, or he could have been patient and waited for Dredd to come to him. Instead he chose to be just as childish and pick a fight.]
We really were made for each other, weren't we?
[The words are accompanied with a short laugh, and after a minute he gets up. He can still feel the nosebleed going but he does nothing to stem it or clean it up, instead opting to find his communicator. He could simply reinstate the bond, but with his pounding head he isn't sure it's a good idea. Instead, he finds where Rico is on his very limited contact list and sends out another message.]
HA. That's good. If you're not pulling my leg here.
Messiah figure sounds like a fun thing to be. But a lie that large, you're in danger of biting off more than you can chew. How the hell did you pull that one off without choking on it?
Iβm not pulling your leg, no. Thatβs a promise.
Well, I wouldnβt say itβs all fun, or an easy thing to be. Thereβs a lot of responsibility wrapped up in it, too, and I wouldnβt say I havenβt choked on it - just not yet.
But a dealβs a deal. Now I want to hear your end.
[What can Rico do in ten minutes? Try and think of a game plan that will result in 1) no boots up his ass and 2) Sara not leaving with everything that she came for, including him on board because he's a sucker for violence and her.]
Sara, if we're still pretending you're listening to a single word I'm saying and you're not about to rope me into committing arson and/or murdering a lot of dangerous people with you, mind grabbing some trash bags on the way?
[ Ten minutes isnβt exactly the head starts he needs to diffuse this situation, and Sara knows it. Heβs correct, at least, that her rage is set to a slowly ticking clock, but thereβs also not much else that stands in her way when sheβs in the mood. ]
[Yeah, this definitely fits the bill of "something you don't want the Department finding out about". The way Rico's head is spinning and he can't even get off the floor while he's heaving, it's got to be an ugly interaction between alcohol and something else in his system that he doesn't actually remember taking. Can't remember a good chunk of the night either, which is a shame because he sure would love an answer to the mystery of the "minor" stab wound in his shoulder and the half-a-broken-handcuff swinging around his left wrist.
Not official issue, at least. It's so cheap that it rattles. So all things considered, it isn't the worst way to come to your senses on a Friday night. But it's definitely not the top three either.]
you get paid in pleases now?
[That means stay in your lane, Reyes. Rico would rather shoot his own jaw off than say something like that right now, and they both know it. He'd better not be dangling that in front of him, because that's not the best idea.]
as long as you're running you could try running faster
(ooc: Smashing things together sounds like it could be fun. Sci fi mumbo jumbo! Andromeda is a hot mess with less rules in a new galaxy and Reyes is a smuggler who's actually the shadow boss of an outlaw faction called the Collective. Rico may have heard about some important person named the Charlatan. That's him. No one knows who they are~ Woooo~ okay a very small handful of people know who he is but shh)
[So Rico goes on a bender and now Reyes has to clean it up? He's starting to think this 'friendship' with the law might not be worth the trouble. Double edged sword since breaking things off would probably have the Judge coming after his ass.]
Wouldn't mind some credits, but I'm not holding my breath.
[So dramatic! No need to shoot anything. Don't be such a baby.]
Would make me run faster probably.
[He is actually looking for his location believe it or not. Talking to Rico is a way to keep him awake and focused if he actually is 'dying'. If he keeps replying then that means he's not dead.]
[Goddamn you might carry more of a sting if Rico hadn't already damned himself to hell a long, long time ago. And how many lives has Arthur taken for the sake of coin? It's just funny, is all.]
You really shouldn't drink so much, Arthur.
[Was it Rico? Was it not? Who knows. He should really stop playing with the man like this, it's not a very nice thing to do.]
[Less than the average outlaw. Less than Colm O'Driscoll and his men, separate and combined. Likely even less than Dutch van der Linde β who, in contradiction, along with Hosea Matthews, have brought Arthur Morgan up not to resort to violence, if it can be helped. To seek some other way first.
And it is true that it can't always helped. Lawmen and guards alike brought down for doing their legally ordained jobs. Still people, still humans, despite equal truth Arthur has never taken the life of a civilian.
The Van der Lindes are not notoriously wanted criminals because they kill without impunity. They're wanted because they know how to piss the men off who fund the government most, who represent modernization and industrialism and expansion into the west. They're a threat to progress.
If a man, who is not ordinarily a thief, by law, can be hung for stealing a bag of flour to feed his family? Or a boy who takes a rancher's horse? Then isn't the United States government killing for less reason than coin?
Coin, he himself, idealistically and foolishly gives to those worse off and holds onto to feed and clothe the people he runs with, wanting so desperately to make wrongs out of his hands right. He has no other talents or capabilities. It's too late now. It was too late as soon as his life began. Rico could call him a despicable fool more blatantly, and Arthur would accept it and keep on as he is, because the wall has been at his back since then. What else has he to offer?]
[Is this crossing some professional line? Maybe. But Dredd clearly doesnβt give a fuck. Mostly heβs just tickled pink he got the deputy to jump to it.
Heβs got something to prove. Rico could use that. And will, if he goes through with the nomination. His attention lingers over the sent picture of the stitched wound, analyzing the angle and depth and where the stitches disappear into his skin - that was a bottle, alright. He tuts.]
Youβve got potential. Maybe.
[βControl, can you get me Deputy Gator Tillman of Stark Countyβs most recent report of an encounter with a methhead? β¦haha yeah, that one. Thanks.β]
Tell me how you took him down.
[he asks idly, scanning the received report. Gator hasnβt mentioned it was a man who stabbed him in their conversation yet, if heβs sharp enough to catch that.]
[ not that gator minds overstepping lines. he's been on the giving end of it, making sure the tillman gaze is set upon all of stark county - and beyond. if dredd wants to see, he'll show him. there's no reason not to. it's impressive, at least in his mind, that he survived. much lesser deputies would be lying in the fucking morgue, but not gator. never gator. when he receives the text after dressing again, he laughs, low and with a bite. ]
maybe, my ass.
[ he quirks a brow when him is mentioned, but he figures that dredd's already got some form of information on it. roscoe barnes, forty-two, stabbing in gator's side. a meth head and general thorn in gator's side for dealing and distributing without tillman permission. ]
broke his ankle with my boot, popped him in his meth mouth. he's going away for a long ass fucking time.
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judgementcrime) wrote2000-08-20 11:21 am
ηΏ androided ηΏ
But I get results, that's the difference between me and them. They play it safe and back off when it gets too hot. I always get my man.
Hell, my arrest rates are higher than some Judges twice my age! 2.45% seems like a fair trade off to me.
[Even if those serious injuries, statistically speaking, have ticked up towards happening after the line's decommissioning. But hey - correlation isn't causation.]
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ηΏ lonedanger ηΏ
[ooc: also did they bang at the lucky 38 or another room at the strip because this is important for a future tag (ominous)]
You think that badly of me? A man could feel hurt by that, Len.
Depends on if youβre coming back before I finish this bottle. And then all over your sheets.
[Again.]
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[ Fuck's sake, he already had to burn the sheets when he got the place, don't make him do it again. ]
Nurse that bottle, I'll be back in half an hour.
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len @ himself: jesus h. christ
jealous bottle hurling from 13 stories up (and missing) is how you know rico likes you
RIP is it too late for Len to unsubscribe from all these issues
free trial period is over, itβs a lifetime subscription now (menacing)
goddamnit
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this is Romanceβ’ right
abso-fuckin-lutely
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ηΏ astrogator ηΏ
You think all I know how to do is wave a gun around and rattle off judicial code? I could do fine print contractual language in my sleep. Which is great, because it sends me straight drokking to it.
Despite what you think, Judges donβt just boot down doors and crack heads. Sure, we do that a lot and I happen to look great doing it, but we also deal with corporate law, tax evasion, divorce proceedings, small claims, immigrationβ¦ weβre trained to handle it all.
Re: ηΏ astrogator ηΏ
But how much do you know about Tradeliner code? I've memorised the thing, I know it backwards, and I know what'll hold up as reasonable interpretation and what any captain will come down heavy on even if maybe it's within code if you squint enough, because of custom and precedent. It'd be like if one of your citizens made an insightful, logically coherent taxation-is-theft argument to you - it'd be accepted immediately out in my sector, but you'd still want to make them pay up, wouldn't you?
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ηΏ militi ηΏ
[Backing down from a fight goes against every instinct in his body and he's well past the point of being able to, even if he wanted. Rico has options, too. He could trigger the shock collar, thatβd shake the fucker right up and teach him a lesson about reaching in when heβs not allowed to. His thumb hovers over the control switch, this close to doing it, but what stops him is watching the blood cascade from Criusβ face as he sinks his grip deeper into him, like he doesn't know or care it's happening.
Electricity isnβt a subtle tool - itβd drop him in an instant, but he can't risk making the damage worse to whatever neurons are firing off, make his soulmate more of an actual brain dead fucking idiot than he already is. Crius is hurting himself right now cracking Rico open, a thought fueled by agitation and uneasiness with every fresh wave of blood that he sees pouring out, and it makes him think of blood vessels and brain bleeds from dead and dying things with the jarring impact from his boot caving in their skulls. He needs to stop, they both need to stop. Rico can't, and the solution that comes to mind distracts him for a second, and thatβs all Crius needs to pry him open the rest of the way. And the recent memory he finds there, the reason for all this:
Cold drink in hand, pleasantly buzzed with his crew until somebody makes a joke and it's not so pleasant anymore - "...first time I've seen a soulmate being made to stick around", "..you're a real catch, Captain...", "...taking bets for when that thing comes off? I'll start with ten seconds, and that's if soldier boy stops to grab his things on the way out-". He laughs along, ha ha ha, fury and embarrassment mounting, still pressing on his thoughts long after the topic changes, turning into something about how Crius is counting down the seconds, laughing at him in secret as if this fucked-up thing could ever lead to more, angered into impulsive action, fueled by insecurity-
In reality, Ricoβs fists uncurl. He wraps his right hand around his index finger of his left hand.
He can't risk hurting Crius physically. But what he can do is make him feel it. This has gone on long enough.
There's a perfectly calm, crystal clear moment in his mind as he braces himself, and that's the only warning Crius gets before he wrenches it back as far as it can go. There's a sharp crack, and he howls out loud. White-hot pain radiates from the break, and Rico gags in pain as he squeezes down tighter on it and grinds the edges of the broken bones against each other. Humiliation, resentment, violation-
GET. OUT. NOW.]
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[Out he does indeed get, Crius' hold on Rico's thoughts and the connection both snapping like a brittle branch. And even with him completely separated from the other, the finger on Crius' corresponding hand throbs red hot in sympathy with Rico's own injury. As it fades, his own woes start becoming apparent and the nausea he was experiencing comes back full force.
He stumbles to his feet and to the bathroom, only just making it in time not to evacuate his stomach all over the floor. He finishes with a groan and flushes, then leans his head back against the bulkhead. With his system cleared out he feels more sober than he was before, but not so clear that the hungover aftereffect of overexerting himself doesn't mix with the queasiness of the liqour.
Why did he do this again?
Right, Rico. He sighs and pounds- more knocks, really- his fist against the floor.]
Morus.
[Foolish. Idiot. And he includes himself in that statement as much as he does one Captain Rico Dredd. They just went head to head- quite literally- over Rico's insecurity. And as much as he wants to place all the blame on Rico, he could have figured a way out of the room and dealt with consequences later, or he could have been patient and waited for Dredd to come to him. Instead he chose to be just as childish and pick a fight.]
We really were made for each other, weren't we?
[The words are accompanied with a short laugh, and after a minute he gets up. He can still feel the nosebleed going but he does nothing to stem it or clean it up, instead opting to find his communicator. He could simply reinstate the bond, but with his pounding head he isn't sure it's a good idea. Instead, he finds where Rico is on his very limited contact list and sends out another message.]
Get your finger fixed.
[Then, a minute later.]
I would not simply leave like that.
ηΏ desertpowered ηΏ
HA. That's good. If you're not pulling my leg here.
Messiah figure sounds like a fun thing to be. But a lie that large, you're in danger of biting off more than you can chew. How the hell did you pull that one off without choking on it?
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Well, I wouldnβt say itβs all fun, or an easy thing to be. Thereβs a lot of responsibility wrapped up in it, too, and I wouldnβt say I havenβt choked on it - just not yet.
But a dealβs a deal. Now I want to hear your end.
ηΏ thecanarylives ηΏ
[What can Rico do in ten minutes? Try and think of a game plan that will result in 1) no boots up his ass and 2) Sara not leaving with everything that she came for, including him on board because he's a sucker for violence and her.]
Sara, if we're still pretending you're listening to a single word I'm saying and you're not about to rope me into committing arson and/or murdering a lot of dangerous people with you, mind grabbing some trash bags on the way?
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you make it sound like itβd be your first time.
and yes, I do mind.
ηΏ tobesomeone ηΏ
[Yeah, this definitely fits the bill of "something you don't want the Department finding out about". The way Rico's head is spinning and he can't even get off the floor while he's heaving, it's got to be an ugly interaction between alcohol and something else in his system that he doesn't actually remember taking. Can't remember a good chunk of the night either, which is a shame because he sure would love an answer to the mystery of the "minor" stab wound in his shoulder and the half-a-broken-handcuff swinging around his left wrist.
Not official issue, at least. It's so cheap that it rattles. So all things considered, it isn't the worst way to come to your senses on a Friday night. But it's definitely not the top three either.]
you get paid in pleases now?
[That means stay in your lane, Reyes. Rico would rather shoot his own jaw off than say something like that right now, and they both know it. He'd better not be dangling that in front of him, because that's not the best idea.]
as long as you're running you could try running faster
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okay a very small handful of people know who he is but shh)[So Rico goes on a bender and now Reyes has to clean it up? He's starting to think this 'friendship' with the law might not be worth the trouble. Double edged sword since breaking things off would probably have the Judge coming after his ass.]
Wouldn't mind some credits, but I'm not holding my breath.
[So dramatic! No need to shoot anything. Don't be such a baby.]
Would make me run faster probably.
[He is actually looking for his location believe it or not. Talking to Rico is a way to keep him awake and focused if he actually is 'dying'. If he keeps replying then that means he's not dead.]
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ηΏ legislatory ηΏ
And I'm sure only half of it will be true. Don't worry, you'll have the benefit of the doubt. Since we're friends and all.
[Sarica's making the party sound better by the minute, isn't he?]
Then again, maybe I should worry. You people are insane.
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While you're among us, you should know that we prefer to call it, 'inspired'.
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ηΏ astrogator ηΏ
Well, that depends. How many pages is your booty call contract?
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ηΏ beatitudes ηΏ
[Goddamn you might carry more of a sting if Rico hadn't already damned himself to hell a long, long time ago. And how many lives has Arthur taken for the sake of coin? It's just funny, is all.]
You really shouldn't drink so much, Arthur.
[Was it Rico? Was it not? Who knows. He should really stop playing with the man like this, it's not a very nice thing to do.]
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And it is true that it can't always helped. Lawmen and guards alike brought down for doing their legally ordained jobs. Still people, still humans, despite equal truth Arthur has never taken the life of a civilian.
The Van der Lindes are not notoriously wanted criminals because they kill without impunity. They're wanted because they know how to piss the men off who fund the government most, who represent modernization and industrialism and expansion into the west. They're a threat to progress.
If a man, who is not ordinarily a thief, by law, can be hung for stealing a bag of flour to feed his family? Or a boy who takes a rancher's horse? Then isn't the United States government killing for less reason than coin?
Coin, he himself, idealistically and foolishly gives to those worse off and holds onto to feed and clothe the people he runs with, wanting so desperately to make wrongs out of his hands right. He has no other talents or capabilities. It's too late now. It was too late as soon as his life began. Rico could call him a despicable fool more blatantly, and Arthur would accept it and keep on as he is, because the wall has been at his back since then. What else has he to offer?]
What I do ain't none of your damn business.
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ηΏ commanderforehead ηΏ
Alright. Can we talk about any of your questionable decisions after that?
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ηΏ courier5 ηΏ
[That's because Conner would be right. He's pulled that one before.]
So very.
You know me, Connie. I'm always looking for something interesting to do.
ty for moving!
Got a bounty on a mother Deathclaw. Could use another gun or in your case - bait.
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ok I laughed
she knows his type! ya know the just TO WATCH IT BURN kind of guy XD
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not gonna lie I keep LOLing
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ηΏ courier5 ηΏ
[Is that so. Rico has no love lost for the Legion either. He doesn't insult Conner's intelligence by asking are you sure? Instead-]
Tell me about your friend. Who were they?
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ηΏ beatitudes ηΏ
[Now Arthur is asking the right questions.]
I'll be nice. Only Anna.
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Then⦠would you talk to them for me? Please?
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ηΏ tillman ηΏ
[Is this crossing some professional line? Maybe. But Dredd clearly doesnβt give a fuck. Mostly heβs just tickled pink he got the deputy to jump to it.
Heβs got something to prove. Rico could use that. And will, if he goes through with the nomination. His attention lingers over the sent picture of the stitched wound, analyzing the angle and depth and where the stitches disappear into his skin - that was a bottle, alright. He tuts.]
Youβve got potential. Maybe.
[βControl, can you get me Deputy Gator Tillman of Stark Countyβs most recent report of an encounter with a methhead? β¦haha yeah, that one. Thanks.β]
Tell me how you took him down.
[he asks idly, scanning the received report. Gator hasnβt mentioned it was a man who stabbed him in their conversation yet, if heβs sharp enough to catch that.]
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maybe, my ass.
[ he quirks a brow when him is mentioned, but he figures that dredd's already got some form of information on it. roscoe barnes, forty-two, stabbing in gator's side. a meth head and general thorn in gator's side for dealing and distributing without tillman permission. ]
broke his ankle with my boot, popped him in his meth mouth.
he's going away for a long ass fucking time.
[ especially if his father gets his way. ]