Tuesday: Unlikely Rescue
Jul. 5th, 2011 08:01 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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medjai_trowa here again (I know, I'm a couple of minutes early and I'm hoping the mods will forgive that teeny few minutes because the radio just said that traffic was a pig on my commute :-( )So who loves it when one of the team races in, guns blazing or fists flying to rescue the rest of the team who have been temporarily inconvenienced by the bad guys? What if it wasn't Jack O'Neill in the sniper's eyrie? What if it was Daniel Jackson? What if BA came riding to the rescue piloting a chopper? Or maybe Gibbs surprises Callen and manages to hack an electronic lock using a netbook?
Important rule-y bit:
No more than 5 prompts in a row, no more than 3 per fandom. If someone answers a prompt, you may prompt again.
No spoilers in your prompts until 1 week after the original air/publication date.
If your fill contains spoilers, or you think it potentially could count as a spolier, please make sure sufficient space is left (with a warning) so that people can bypass it.
Please make sure that your prompts are in the following format:
Stargate SG1, Jack/Daniel, "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
A-Team, BA/Murdock, "Airborne Ranger, fool."
NCIS/NCIS:LA, Gibbs/Callen, hacking a lock with a netbook
I'm looking for prompts that make the rest of the team sit up and go "How the hell did that happen?" Enjoy!
tag: unlikelyrescue
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no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:19 am (UTC)Fill: Not As Elegant As A Scalpel
Date: 2011-07-05 09:16 am (UTC)The buyer sneered. "Clumsy, perhaps, in such indelicate paws as yours," he scoffed, "but in trained hands, far more elegant than any blaster." As punctuation, he slashed the glowing blade in front of Mal; the captain's holster smoldered, and his pistol fell to the floor. The two mercenaries at the door glanced at each other, but neither lowered their own firearms to pick it up. "Still," the buyer continued, "while the quality of your merchandise is unacceptable at best, I might consider merely confiscating your contraband in the name of the Alliance Militia and letting you go -"
"I don't think that's an acceptable solution," Mal started.
"- If you or one of your ruffians can best me in a duel," the buyer finished. "Otherwise, I think you'll make a lovely set of corpses." He lowered his energy sword for the first time since he'd drawn it.
Carefully, Simon spoke up. "Terms of the duel?"
"What the gou shi are you doing?" Mal hissed over his shoulder. Simon waved him off.
The buyer blinked slowly, then chuckled. "Normally, I'd insist on a duel to the death, but for you and your pretty face - first blood." He tilted his head, a gleam in his eye. "I much prefer the idea of you living the rest of your life with my scar across your cheek."
"I accept." Simon stepped clear of Mal and Zoe, hands still raised. "Provided I get a blade of my own."
"Of course." With practiced nonchalance, the buyer tossed a second hilt with the long, dangling wire towards him; Simon caught it by the end of the hilt and fumbled for the button. The crackling light crawled up the wire, straightening it, and Simon shifted his feet into a fencer's stance.
"En garde!" The buyer lunged; Simon stepped backwards, and the blow swung short. His return thrust was caught on the tip of the buyer's blade at the last millisecond, and the swords spat sparks against each other, vibrating madly. Simon found himself backing up again, almost up against Mal again, before his blade pulled free. The buyer frowned for the first time, and tried a simpler thrust; Simon parried, sending up another shower of crackling motes. Their feet wove complex patterns against the cold concrete floor as they paced around each other, feinting and drawing back again.
"Not bad for a soft-handed civilian," the buyer sniffed.
Simon shrugged. "I'm a bit out of practice -"
The buyer dove in with a wild slash before Simon finished speaking. The doctor's blade came up and caught the other just in front of the hilt; he flicked his wrist, and the energy fields broke apart just enough for him to dart forward. The buyer yelped, nearly drowning out the sound of cloth, hair, and flesh sizzling against the energy blade.
"Touché," Simon stated, drawing the sword back to a ready position.
The buyer shook his head, and flicked the switch on his own blade. "Fair touch," he admitted. The wire still glowed alarmingly as it drooped. "Guards, let them go. Don't touch anything."
Simon handed the hilt to one of the mercenaries, and followed Mal out into the warm night air.
"You're not going to let them just keep the cargo, are you, sir?" Zoe asked mildly as they paced down the side street into the market, the stalls standing empty in the dark.
"Of course not," Mal scoffed. "At least, not without paying." He swung up into the passenger seat of the mule. "When'd you learn to fight like that?"
"Fencing lessons in middle school," Simon explained, clambering into the back. "It was that or ballroom dancing."
Mal nodded. "Good choice." He ran one finger along the ruined holster and turned back to Zoe. "I think we might be more persuasive if we could out-shoot him, too."
"Getting Jayne, sir," she replied, giving Simon one last thoughtful glance before returning her attention to the narrow streets.
Re: Fill: Not As Elegant As A Scalpel
From:Re: Fill: Not As Elegant As A Scalpel
From:Re: Fill: Not As Elegant As A Scalpel
From:Re: Fill: Not As Elegant As A Scalpel
From:Re: Fill: Not As Elegant As A Scalpel
From:Re: Fill: Not As Elegant As A Scalpel
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:35 am (UTC)Inception, Arthur/Eames + Ariadne, Arthur's unconcious, Eames has a gun to his head and a broken arm, and Ariadne has to talk their way out of this
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Date: 2011-07-05 07:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:38 am (UTC)Glee, Puck/Kurt, "I thought I was the knight in shining armor?"
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Date: 2011-07-05 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 06:59 pm (UTC)"I'm sorry?" he hears Grodin say in his accented voice, bringing him back to the present.
The man points his decorated staff at Peter. "You have been chosen to test your tribes worthiness to enter the ancestral tomb." The leader looks back, calling up a muscled warrior. "You will fight Kro'n'dar and must draw first blood to prove yourself."
The warrior comes to stand next to the tribal leader, standing a full head above the man, and bows in appreciation. Rodney watches as Grodin doesn't even blink, and instead just stares intently at his opponent, then returns the bow.
Before Rodney can object, Sheppard steps forward. "Now hold on just a minute," he says, stepping between the two men who are about to battle. He's about to object to the process and offer himself up, but he sees Teyla give him that look (which tells him to not even try). Instead, he turns to the scientist. "Are you sure about this, Peter?" John asks.
Barely breaking eye contact with his opponent, Grodin pulls his shirt over his head, muscles already covered in a light sheen of sweat from the midday sun, and hands his shirt over to Sheppard. He just nods at the military man, then takes a step forward to fight the tribal warrior.
After circling each other for a few moments, Peter takes advantage of an ill-timed lunge from the warrior before connecting with a solid punch to the larger man's chin, splitting the warrior's lip. He celebrates with a modest smile when the warrior realizes he's been beaten (as evidenced by the trickle of blood on his chin), and bows in recognition of the better man's skills.
~*~*~
The group enters the lab, Rodney basically speechless, Teyla grinning, Grodin still shirtless, and Sheppard slightly flustered over the whole incident. The remaining Marines and scientists beam at Grodin with reverence. "You know, you can..." Rodney gestures wildly with his hands at Peter. After a beat, he finishes, "...put your shirt on anytime."
Grodin finally concedes, pulling the shirt on. It doesn't change how flustered Rodney is, though, now watching how the shirt fits over Peter's broad shoulders, tight around his biceps.
John decides he's seen all he needs to. "You're drooling, Rodney," he stage whispers, causing Rodney to fluster even more.
"But... But..." Rodney starts, trying to articulate. After a moment, he's able to gather his thoughts. "He's a scientist," which earns him a nod from Grodin and a 'duh!' look from Sheppard. "Scientists aren't supposed to be that hot." He turns to Sheppard, face still agog. "You're not that hot," which earns him a dope-slap.
"What are scientists supposed to look like, then?" John asks, rolling his eyes.
Considering his answer carefully, Rodney replies, "I don't know... Zelenka? Or maybe Kavanaugh?"
John deadpans back at Rodney. "You're a scientist Rodney. You're saying you look like Kavanaugh?"
Rodney tsks. "Uuh, no! I'm the exception that proves the rule."
Teyla, John, and Peter all stop, turn to Rodney, and give him a look, which makes Rodney roll his eyes. "Fine," he concedes. "Studly McHotPecs over there and I are the exception that proves the rule."
(no subject)
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Date: 2011-07-05 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-13 11:00 pm (UTC)Sometimes Nate has even wondered if maybe she was more dangerous than Eliot. Sure, Eliot could probably cause a larger body count without even messing up his hair, but he didn't. He'd left that part of himself in the past by choice and even when the team was threatened he approached the problem with the percision of a knife rather than a bomb.
He'd started that train of thought to comfort himself. Eliot was in trouble. He'd been caught. He needed rescue. For all he treated Parker like a little sister he'd understand that sending her in was the best course of action.
But now Nate is sitting in Hardison's van, listening as the thief approached the mark, remembering *now* that before the team, before Leverage, at the job's end Parker would have to meet with her fence or client or someone who was more than willing to take her loot without paying if given the chance to shoot her.
"You have what belongs to me." She said, her voice flat. It wasn't cold, there wasn't enough of anything behind it to make it cold, but he shivered despite himself. "I want him back."
There was quiet, the mark making an offering, or a threat.
A beep.
"This is a dead man's switch for the five bombs I put in this building." She stated. "One of your men may leave. He will bring my team mate to me. We walk out of here together." A pause. A distant explosion men screaming. "Four bombs left."
Minutes tick by. Parker says nothing. Noise over the coms. Parker lets out a breath slightly longer than the others. A moment later they can hear the very distinctive sound of Eliot's forced steady breathing from when he's injured but not badly enough to keep him from functioning properly.
"I got him." She says just as Hardison manages to get a visual. A half second later a series of explosions ring over the comms and they watch as the warehouse turns into a ball of fire, Parker and Eliot limping away from the wreck.
Nate wonders if he should say something. Actually exploding the building hadn't been part of the plan. Hell, using actul explosives hadn't been part of the plan.
"They hurt him," Is all Parker says and Nate admits whatever he might say wouldn't matter. When it came to people hurting the team, especially Eliot, Parker was easily the most dangerous.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 07:57 am (UTC)Fill: Another Day at The Office
Date: 2011-07-05 02:12 pm (UTC)Either cell reception’s shit, or the battery on Danny’s phone is dying, because Kono has to yell to be heard over the crackle of static. “Are either of you hurt?”
There’s another burst of static, something muted that sounds a little like screaming, and then worse. Silence. Kono doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until she turns, bangs her hip on a corner of the table, and it all goes out in a huff. She sets her phone down, puts it on speaker so she can finish pinging their GPS. “Danny, answer me, are you hurt?”
“We’re okay,” the answer comes nearly a full two minutes later, and it’s Steve, not Danny, doing the talking. “Danny’s gonna need a medic, but we’re okay.”
(Which makes no sense, because why would they need a medic if they’re okay? But Steve knows what he’s talking about, so Kono nods—not like he can see her, but it gives her a moment to focus, clear her head—and goes with it.)
The table beeps then, bringing up their location. She plans on having a very serious talk with them later, because they were supposed to be in Haleiwa, not a quarter of the island away in the middle of the mountains. “Move,” she says, pointing her hands like they can see her. “There’s a clearing about a thousand yards east of you, I want you standing on the edge of it when I get there in thirty minutes.”
“Okay, thanks.” Reception goes fuzzy once more then, so Kono makes him repeat her instructions back to her, just in case. “One thousand yards east, thirty minutes. Understood, Kono.”
She can see them before the helicopter lands, forty minutes later, and the fact that she can clearly make out the blood on Danny’s leg and the way that his kneecap looks, even from this far out, has her scanning the treeline behind them, gun in hand, safety off.
“You’re late,” Danny says, face scrunched tight in pain as they climb aboard, “Steve said you’d be here in half an hour.”
Kono grins. “Brah, I’m ten minutes late. You want I should leave, you can walk back to the office?”
“My hero,” Danny amends, and then the doctor advances on him with a syringe half-full of Demerol, and then he just laughs for a while.
Re: Fill: Another Day at The Office
From:Re: Fill: Another Day at The Office
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 08:01 am (UTC)That’s the Last Time
Date: 2011-08-31 03:32 am (UTC)“So you stopped me potentially twisting my ankle or breaking a nail, and in the process you broke two ribs and your wrist?”
Sophie pouts up at him, and would have crossed her arms out of indignation if her ribs hadn’t been wrapped and her wrist wasn’t throbbing quite so much. “That’s the last time I try to rescue you, Eliot. Just you see,” she says with her fiercest scowl. That’s all she gets out before she has to stop and wheeze painfully for a minute.
Eliot sets down the china cup of perfectly-made Lady Londonberry tea on the bedside table, within reach, right where she can reach it without leaning over and hurting herself. He leans over and kisses her cheek chastely. “Thanks, Soph,” he whispers. His stubble scratches her cheek, making her close her eyes at the sensation.
She’s tired. She can feel him pulling the silk covers up around her shoulders, careful not to jostle any of her injuries, and then he’s gone.
“Anytime,” she says softly. Her last thought before she lets sleep pull her under is to wonder if he heard it.
Her bedroom door shuts soundlessly.
How's that for a turnaround? Bet you didn't expect that.
Re: That’s the Last Time
From:Re: That’s the Last Time
From:Re: That’s the Last Time
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 08:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 08:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 08:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-05 08:26 am (UTC)No Fill
Date: 2011-07-06 12:50 am (UTC)