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Whumptober #9 & #22 (Biggles)
Actually following the calendar is overrated.
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No. 9: “Learning everything ain’t what it seems, that’s the thing about these days.”
Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You’re a liar.”
"Why didn't you tell them?" Biggles demanded. His voice was crisp, but his hands were careful as he untied Algy from the bonds securing him to the pipe in the cellar.
"What makes you think I didn't?" Algy's voice was slurred but cocky, with that particular smug got you there, don't I? quality that had always made Biggles want to thump him when they were younger.
Algy's legs wobbled on taking his weight, so Biggles slung Algy's arm over his shoulders. "Because they were down here pummeling you for information you didn't have, rather than interfering with me."
"I don't look that much like you. Insult to me, really ... I'd have said something, but I felt it'd be in poor taste to point out their mental infirmity."
But they both knew that it was a deliberate diversion, that Algy had played along with the deception to give Biggles a chance to get away, and that he would have gone on doing his best well-practiced Biggles impersonation no matter how many hits he took. Biggles was very gentle helping him up the stairs.
"Anyway," Algy said, his head lolling sideways on Biggles's shoulder, and his arm around the narrow, wiry shoulders was halfway to a hug. "We both knew you'd come back."
No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”
Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”
It was far from the first time Erich had been in a smash-up, but the suddenness of it was what he could never get used to. He lost a little time, came back to himself dangling upside-down from the seatbelt. His mouth tasted like blood.
There were torch beams dancing through the window, cut into a thousand shards by broken pieces of shattered safety glass. A vaguely familiar voice said, "We run him off the road and then we rescue him? How much sense does that make?"
"We can't in good conscience drive off without checking to make sure no one's hurt." That was Bigglesworth's voice, and in some distant, dazed way, Erich hated how a part of him relaxed, somehow, at the sound of it.
"This other fellow's dead." That was Lacey again, voice unexpectedly solemn. "Careful -- Biggles, don't rush, mind the broken glass there --"
The torch beam danced in Erich's eyes. He squinted, tried to move a hand to shield his face and discovered that his right arm had become trapped under the seat belt somehow, tangled and numb. The sheer helplessness of it panicked him in a way the smash itself hadn't, and the next thing he understood clearly was Bigglesworth's level voice saying, "Careful, careful, support his legs, Algy. Von Stalhein, it's all right, we've got you."
"Whether we want you or not," Lacey said. "Are we arresting him? I suppose you're going to say he didn't do anything, such as shoot at us and try to run us down."
"The driver's dead, and I don't see any guns except the one in his hand. Erich's only a passenger. We're not like his bosses, to arrest a man based on hearsay and who he keeps company with."
"I'd say his company itself is pretty damning, actually --"
The arguing passed over Erich's head. He was dimly aware of being helped to lie down on grass, and covered with a coat that smelled of Bigglesworth's cigarettes and aftershave. He still couldn't make sense of things; it was all too dizzying, and he closed his eyes. Vaguely he was aware of a careful hand using a dampened handkerchief to wipe the stickiness of blood off his face.
--
No. 9: “Learning everything ain’t what it seems, that’s the thing about these days.”
Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You’re a liar.”
"Why didn't you tell them?" Biggles demanded. His voice was crisp, but his hands were careful as he untied Algy from the bonds securing him to the pipe in the cellar.
"What makes you think I didn't?" Algy's voice was slurred but cocky, with that particular smug got you there, don't I? quality that had always made Biggles want to thump him when they were younger.
Algy's legs wobbled on taking his weight, so Biggles slung Algy's arm over his shoulders. "Because they were down here pummeling you for information you didn't have, rather than interfering with me."
"I don't look that much like you. Insult to me, really ... I'd have said something, but I felt it'd be in poor taste to point out their mental infirmity."
But they both knew that it was a deliberate diversion, that Algy had played along with the deception to give Biggles a chance to get away, and that he would have gone on doing his best well-practiced Biggles impersonation no matter how many hits he took. Biggles was very gentle helping him up the stairs.
"Anyway," Algy said, his head lolling sideways on Biggles's shoulder, and his arm around the narrow, wiry shoulders was halfway to a hug. "We both knew you'd come back."
No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”
Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”
It was far from the first time Erich had been in a smash-up, but the suddenness of it was what he could never get used to. He lost a little time, came back to himself dangling upside-down from the seatbelt. His mouth tasted like blood.
There were torch beams dancing through the window, cut into a thousand shards by broken pieces of shattered safety glass. A vaguely familiar voice said, "We run him off the road and then we rescue him? How much sense does that make?"
"We can't in good conscience drive off without checking to make sure no one's hurt." That was Bigglesworth's voice, and in some distant, dazed way, Erich hated how a part of him relaxed, somehow, at the sound of it.
"This other fellow's dead." That was Lacey again, voice unexpectedly solemn. "Careful -- Biggles, don't rush, mind the broken glass there --"
The torch beam danced in Erich's eyes. He squinted, tried to move a hand to shield his face and discovered that his right arm had become trapped under the seat belt somehow, tangled and numb. The sheer helplessness of it panicked him in a way the smash itself hadn't, and the next thing he understood clearly was Bigglesworth's level voice saying, "Careful, careful, support his legs, Algy. Von Stalhein, it's all right, we've got you."
"Whether we want you or not," Lacey said. "Are we arresting him? I suppose you're going to say he didn't do anything, such as shoot at us and try to run us down."
"The driver's dead, and I don't see any guns except the one in his hand. Erich's only a passenger. We're not like his bosses, to arrest a man based on hearsay and who he keeps company with."
"I'd say his company itself is pretty damning, actually --"
The arguing passed over Erich's head. He was dimly aware of being helped to lie down on grass, and covered with a coat that smelled of Bigglesworth's cigarettes and aftershave. He still couldn't make sense of things; it was all too dizzying, and he closed his eyes. Vaguely he was aware of a careful hand using a dampened handkerchief to wipe the stickiness of blood off his face.