Freak

== Revised text ==
Date/Timing: 4 May 2017
Setting: Anchorage Shatterdome; Anchorage, USA
.
"Hey, Sergio," greets Yancy, hunched over a mug of tea.
Sergio drops his tray on the mess table, slides in next to him. "Greetings, Becket." Picks up his fork. "See Logan Jones introduced himself."
Yancy raises an eyebrow—ish.
"Word travels fast." Stabs his pasta. "Didn't I warn you about him?"
"Yeah, you did," Yancy sighs. "I didn't recognize him and he said some fucked up things to Raleigh." Deep breath. "I let him get to me."
Sergio grunts around his mouthful.
"How—" Swallows. "Why'd they make him a Ranger?"
"The reason's written all over you."
"Oh."
"He was dangerous as hell when he showed up at the Academy and training's made him even more so."
Yancy blinks a couple of times. "He learned all that on the fly?"
"That he did," says Sergio. "Not everyone has a Mémé." Queues a mouthful of vegetables. "Checked his rep with some RAAF buddies: used to be a street fighter." Chews.
Yancy grabs a bite, too.
Sergio swallows. "Kid had a knack for getting run out of fight clubs for 'excessive violence', then his brother dragged him to the Corps."
"Good lord—" Sits straighter. "Raleigh's gonna challenge him."
"Already did."
Yancy grays.
Sergio checks his watch. "You've got about five minutes to make the Kwoon before the fight starts."
Yancy makes the entire trip at a dead sprint, skids to a halt beside Raleigh.
«I gave that asswipe thirty minutes to show.»
Yancy wraps him in a hug.
Raleigh buries his face in Yancy's shoulder, shaking with anger.
«Keep your guard up. This guy's—»
«Gonna get everything he deserves.»
«Yeah, he probably is.»
«Still think /la canne'll do the trick?»
«With a French quarterstaff.»
Raleigh likes this.
«See if a street fighter can keep up with Mémé's training.» Yancy presses a kiss to Raleigh's crown— «And speak of the devil.» Spins him around, excuses himself to the sidelines.
Raleigh straightens his spine. "Rules are simple, Jones: last twenty minutes with me—"
"Only twenty?" smugs Logan, pulling off his boots and socks. "I won't even be warmed up!"
"—in whatever style you like." Raleigh takes up his favorite staff, gives it an experimental heft, and steps onto the mats with his bare feet.
Logan stands, strips to a tank top, rolls tattooed shoulders. "You sure you wanna give me a handicap, seeing what I did to your better half?"
Raleigh concentrates on his footwork.
"Aw, Jack, he doesn't wanna be my fwiend. I'm /hurt."
Raleigh cracks his neck, shoulders, and back in one smooth roll, sets his feet for a long fight.
Logan heaves a disgusted sigh, makes a show of inspecting the staffs on display. "Bruises alright or do I have to play nice?"
"Planned on leavin' a few."
"Awe/some." Logan grins nastily as he picks a light, mid-length one, stretches with it over his head. "This'll be fun, won't it?"
Raleigh waits, silent.
Logan lashes out—
Raleigh shifts his weight—
—misses the back of Raleigh's knee by the barest whisker—
—spins the staff into a whistling blur and strikes—
/THWACK
—grunts, lands a blow on Raleigh's ribs, slides out of reach. "You pull that shot?" he demands.
"Won't make that mistake again."
"Good." Smirks, edges closer. "I do believe it's your turn."
Raleigh mercilessly drives Logan back and forth across the mats, exploiting Logan's height with moves he couldn't pull off against shorter opponents like Yancy or his Mémé.
Logan's equally relentless, not wasting an ounce of energy as he pounds at Raleigh.
Some of their blows crack against staffs, others slip past guards to smack muscle. They both hit the mat repeatedly, tripped by clever sweeps or knocked down by punishing impacts. Even so, both quickly regain their feet and resume battering each other.
Raleigh ducks a vicious thrust, drums Logan's hip, finishes with a strike which has a good deal of weight behind it.
His staff creaks dangerously.
Raleigh spins away, takes a deep breath.
"Uh oh~! Don't tell me you're getting tired /already! We've still got four minutes!"
Raleigh blinks at him.
Logan circles idly, taps the side of his head with his staff. "Family gift: mental stopwatch."
A smile full of knives creeps across Raleigh's face. "That the only mental 'gift' you've got?"
"Well, I /did bend a spoon once—"
"How 'bout your last fitness assessment? They call you for another psych eval?"
Logan's eyes narrow.
‒Gotcha, asshole.‒ Out loud, Raleigh sneers, "Touchy subject? Worried about losing your Jaeger?"
"Not—" Logan swings overhand. "—particularly." Smashes down on Raleigh's shoulder—
Raleigh blocks, shoves Logan away. "I wonder if you've got a younger brother. I'm sure he'd /love to hear what you have to say about me."
Logan channels a shrug into another shot at Raleigh's ribs.
"Imagine, wontcha, someone implying your brother's not right in the head—"
"No need to imply."
Cheers around the margins yield to uncomfortable murmurs.
Raleigh spits, "That shit eats away at him, cuts deeper every time some asshole repeats it."
Logan whacks at Raleigh, every strike chipping away at Raleigh's guard. "Heard this song—"
"Your baby brother keeps hearing that voice say he isn't right, isn't normal, he's a complete freak. /You hear people say it behind his back and, when you defend him—/like you should—'Oh, you're such a /good brother. You're shouldering such a /burden with that brother of yours.'—"
"You aiming to /talk me to death?"
"I'm not done!" Raleigh roars, a flurry of vicious blows driving Logan back onto the defensive. "And they keep it up: call him 'Short Bus', 'Rain Man', 'special brain', a cheater for getting something he worked his ass off for! Well, guess what?! He's done with it!"
Logan blocks across his body—
Raleigh slashes downward with all his strength, snaps both staffs in half.
The crowd stares in horrified silence.
Logan whistles. "Didn't—"
"That's what you get!" Raleigh shouts as he drops the shattered staff. "I deal with that shit every damn day of my life. So fuckin' /think next time you wanna pick a fight." Spins on his heel. "C'mon, Yan. I'm done with this asshole."
"Lucky for him you are, I think," smugs Yancy.
Logan rolls his eyes makes a mocking 'talk, talk, talk' gesture.
Raleigh storms to the edge of the mats, pulls on his socks and boots, slings his arms around Yancy's neck as soon has he stands.
Yancy touches his forehead to Raleigh's. «Good job, kid.»
«Thanks.»
They separate, join the crowd leaving the Kwoon.
«You need Medical to check you over?»
«Nah. He doesn't hit hard. Let's go—»
""Oi! Beckets!""
Raleigh and Yancy turn together.
Jackson jogs up to them, fists tightly clenched.
Yancy and Raleigh tense.
Jackson forces his hands open. "You leave our brother outta this," he growls. "He's already had a /lifetime worth of shit because of us and he's still just a little kid." Pulls himself up to his full height. "You wanna pick on someone, come looking for me, yea? Logan and I can take care of ourselves, but the kid's outta bounds. Understand?"
Raleigh drops his eyes. "I'm sorry about dragging your other brother into this. I was trying to give Logan a taste of his own nastiness." He sags against Yancy, sighs, "Didn't seem to work at all."
Jackson crosses his arms. "Because screaming and beating on each other is a /great way to communicate."
Yancy snorts. "Fair 'nuff. Now, I'm sure you've heard this before, but Logan's an asshole."
"Nope, that's /completely new. Thanks for sharing."
Yancy rolls his eyes. "Look, Raleigh's had enough of that shit said to him. If we can't get that message through Logan's thick skull, maybe you can."
"You honestly think he listens to me. 'm flattered."
Raleigh blinks. "But you're—"
"Anything else?" Jackson taps a foot.
"Well," says Yancy, "if you come across a Jumphawk pilot with a 'Becket' name tape, run."
Jackson raises an eyebrow.
"He's our uncle and ex-U.S. Special Forces. If he hears what Logan said to Raleigh, you're /both in for a world of hurt."
"I'll keep that in mind." He turns away, marches off.
Raleigh and Yancy exchange a glance.
Yancy shrugs. "You hungry?"
"I could eat a /pony."
"You're gonna be disappointed, then." Grins. "Pretty sure there's no actual meat in the 'meatloaf' they've got in the mess today."
Raleigh snorks, shoulder-checks Yancy hard enough to stagger him.
Yancy playfully shoves back.
Raleigh laughs.
== Original text ==
Freak
(Beckets Bite Back: One)
4 May 2017
Anchorage, United States
Raleigh growls when he sees Yancy's split lip.
Yancy tries for a light tone. "Hey, you should see that Aussie bastard. I broke his nose an' then I punched it again. Wouldja believe the asshole's one of Vulcan Specter's Rangers?" Yancy mumbles as Raleigh carefully wipes away the blood and tapes his lip. "The younger one. Logan."
«I'm gonna kick his ass, Yan. Take him down in the Kwoon with la canne and make sure every breath he draws is fuckin' painful for a fuckin' month. If I end up in Med Bay, fine, but he'll think twice about messin' with anyone close to me again,» Raleigh snarls in French as he rubs a salve on Yancy's bruises and their link boils with Raleigh's fury.
"Whoa, no! I've heard about these guys from Tendo. You hurt this one an' the other one'll hand you your ass," Yancy protests as Raleigh presses him into his bunk as he feels the ache from his bruises. "Kinda like us," he adds with a wry smile.
"Bring it. They should know better than t' harass a fellow Ranger," Raleigh states coolly, pulling his temper in and
attempting to calm down. "What he said was messed up, Yan."
"Then report him. It's bad enough I fought him out there in th' snow," Yancy points out reasonably.
"I'm sorry, Yan, but ...." Raleigh grits his teeth. ―He hurt you an' I'm gonna level his ass at least once because of it. I'm sick of people making cracks at you because of me. I'm done with it!― Raleigh finishes over the link, allowing his frustration to surface.
―Alright, alright. If you see him before the day's out, then sure. If not ... Don't engage him,― Yancy concedes with ill-disguised relief.
―Fine an' only because you asked me not to, okay?―
―Okay, kiddo.―
Raleigh walks to clear his head, his expression emptying his path of Icebox personnel. Stomping out to the Cold War bunker doesn't help much so he turns around, heading for the Jaeger Bays and Gipsy Danger. Raleigh slips past the security cameras and curls up in the smallest space in her Conn-pod to relax.
""Mini Becket's definitely upset. I wouldn't wanna be the person who made him that way,"" says one of [Danger's] techs.
""Heard it was a Vulcan Specter pilot who started it."" The quiet reply comes from the cable mechanic who likes to sit with Raleigh when he crochets.
""Well, he better watch it. Those Beckets are ferocious if you go after one of their own an' the J-Hawk Becket will happily tie 'em to the blades an' make 'em sick,"" the techie snorts dryly.
Raleigh grins at her words as he works on a plan for dealing with Logan Jones.
Using the stealth training Charlie taught him and Yancy when they were younger, Raleigh slinks down the hallways of the Icebox intent on his target.
He spots Logan in the Drift Science labs with his brother, Jackson. Both of them listen to something Doctor Lightcap's expounding on with serious expressions.
Waiting is the easy part; Raleigh has a Game Boy with Pokémon to pass the time.
The consultation takes exactly twenty minutes and Raleigh's mapped out a hit pattern for Logan when the brothers leave for Hermann's office. He knows, logically, they're just in there to discuss Vulcan's AI, but the possibility they could hurt his friend has his hackles up.
Sergio D'onofrio spots him patiently waiting in the hall. "Becket, what are you doing?"
"Waitin' for that stronzo, Logan. I owe him a punch to the face plus an ass-kicking," he admits with a sneer in the guy's general direction.
"Whoa. Mini Becket, you're not much for attacking people out of the blue. What gives?" Sergio's pretty chill normally but Raleigh's pretty sure the man will understand his rage.
"Logan started some shit I'm gonna finish. Lemme put it this way, Sergio: he called me Rain Man in front of my brother an' implied that I'm ... not all there ...." He trails off.
Sergio's suddenly very interested. "He say anything about [Cait]?" The light voice doesn't quite hide the emotion behind the question.
"No, but I wouldn't put it past the bastard to target you for a fight. He's an underhanded shit," Raleigh hisses as the brothers leave Hermann's office with grins. "Hey!"
They turn at different times.
Not fully synced yet, Raleigh notes.
"'sup Short—"
"Kwoon. Now," Raleigh snaps out, his voice sharp as an Alaskan blizzard. "Unless you're not up for a round, Logan?"
"'m always up for—"
The second Jones sets a hand on his brother's shoulder.
Logan shrugs it off.
Jackson frowns.
"Then it's on. You got ten minutes to show up." Raleigh turns a flawless about-face and stalks away without looking back.
Yancy's already there when Raleigh steps into the Kwoon. They hug and press affection and mutual disgust down the link. Raleigh buries his face in Yancy's shoulder, his body shaking with the anger coursing through him. ―I gave that asswipe ten minutes to show.―
―Ten minutes is more than enough time to find the Kwoon. It's the first thing on the potential Ranger tour,― Yancy quips.
―La canne?― Raleigh asks. ―Think that'll do the trick?―
―French quarterstaff and la canne. See if he can keep up with Mémé's training,― his brother purrs with a smirk as they separate in time to see the Jones brothers arrive.
"Rules are simple, Jones. Last twenty minutes with me," Raleigh barks as he steps onto the mats with his bare feet, selects his favored staff, and hefts it to test the weight. "Whatever style you like." He cracks his neck, shoulders, and back in one smooth roll, setting his feet for a long fight. "First hit's a freebie."
"Bruises alright 'r do I hafta play nice?" Logan makes a show of inspecting the staves on display.
"Planned on leavin' a few."
"Awesome." Logan's nasty grin from the morning reappears as he picks a short, heavy staff, stretches with it over his head. "This'll be fun, won' it?"
Raleigh waits, silent.
Logan lashes out, misses the back of Raleigh's knee by the barest whisker.
Raleigh shifts his weight just so, spins the staff until it's a whistling blur and strikes with a blank expression.
THWACK
Logan grunts but keeps moving, landing a shot on Raleigh's ribs in nearly the same place Raleigh'd hit him.
Raleigh mercilessly drives Logan back and forth across the mats, exploiting Logan's height with moves he can't pull off against shorter opponents like Yancy or his Mémé.
Logan's relentless, not wasting an ounce of energy as he pounds at Raleigh.
Some blows crack against staffs, others slip past guards to smack muscle. They both hit the mat repeatedly, tripped by clever sweeps or knocked down by punishing impacts. Even so, both quickly regain their feet and resume battering each other.
Raleigh ducks a vicious thrust, drums Logan's hip, finishes with a heavy strike with a good deal of weight behind it on his right leg. His staff creaks dangerously as he spins away, careful not to break the man's bones. La canne can kill and Raleigh's held back for safety's sake.
He uses every technique at his disposal, making sure every hit leaves bruises that'll last for weeks. He knows just how hard to swing, having learned on the receiving end of his Mémé's training.
Raleigh's been pacing himself but Logan's not running out of steam—not even breathing hard—despite all the bruises he must have and his heavy staff. So Raleigh decides to give him a taste of his own medicine.
"How'd your last assessment go, Logan? They call you for another psych eval?"
Logan's hands tighten on his staff.
‒‒Gotcha.‒‒ Raleigh's grin's as nasty as Logan's was. "Touchy subject? Worried about losing your Jaeger?"
Logan smashes overhanded for Raleigh's shoulder.
Raleigh blocks, shoves Logan away. "I wonder if you've got a younger brother. I'm sure he'd love to hear what you have to say about me."
No reaction from Logan—
But at the edge of the mat Jackson tenses.
"Imagine, wontcha, someone implying your brother's not right in the head an' he's there to hear it. It's not much, y'know, but it digs into his mind. It eats away at him, cuts deeper when some asshole says it again a week later when you're not there."
Jackson checks a motion toward the mat. "Shut it, Becket!" he yells.
Logan channels a shrug into another shot at Raleigh's ribs. "Heard this song before."
The audience starts looking really uncomfortable.
"I'm not done!" Raleigh roars, driving Logan back onto defense. "Your baby brother keeps hearing that voice say he isn't right, isn't normal, 's a complete freak. You hear people say it behind his back and, when you defend him? 'Oh, you're such a good brother. You're shouldering such a burden with that brother of yours.' But they keep it up; Short Bus, Rain Man, special brain. He's a cheater for getting something he worked his ass off for! Well, guess what?! He's done playing your games!"
Raleigh slashes downward with all of his strength, snaps both staves in half as he gulps lungfuls of air. If looks could kill, Logan would definitely be dead.
The gathered techs and Anchorage Rangers watch Raleigh in
horrified silence.
Logan whistles. "Din't—"
"That's what you get!" Raleigh shouts as he drops the shattered staff. "I deal with that shit every damn day of my life. So fuckin' think next time ya wanna pick a fight, asshole. C'mon, Yan. I'm done."
Bzzzzzzzz.
"And you're done," Yancy adds.
Raleigh pulls on his socks and his boots, slings his arm around Yancy as they touch foreheads.
"Think about what you say, Logan, cause sometimes it's not welcome," Yancy tosses over his shoulder as they leave the Kwoon.
"Oi! Beckets!"
Raleigh and Yancy turn together.
Jackson jogs up to them, fists tightly clenched. "Ye two leave our brother outta this," he growls. "He's already had a lifetime worth 'a shit 'coz 'a us 'n he's jest a li'l kid. Ye wanna pick on someone, come lookin' fer me, ay?" He forces his hands open. "Logan 'n I kin take care 'a ourselves, but th' kid's outta bounds. Understand?"
Raleigh looks down. "I apologize for what I said. Didn't mean to get your other brother involved. I was tryin' to give Logan a taste of his own nastiness ... Didn't seem to work at all." He sighs heavily, pressing against Yancy as the anger drains out of him. Raleigh catalogs the streak of graphite and charcoal along the heel of Jackson's right hand. He perks up. "You draw?"
Jackson frowns, wipes his hand on his trousers.
Something this Jones doesn't want anyone to know about, then.
"Rals, do I gotta watch for bits of stray charcoal again?"
Yancy grumbles as he tilts Raleigh's face from side-to-side, checking for bruises. "Don't get me wrong, Jackson, but your brother's an asshole."
Jackson crosses his arms. "Heard that song before."
"I'm sure you have. But Raleigh's had enough of that shit said to him. If we can't get that message through your brother's thick skull maybe you can."
"Nothin' goes through that skull. People've tried."
Yancy snorts. "Well, if ya come across a J-Hawk pilot with a Becket name tape, run."
"Why's that?"
"He's our Uncle an' ex-Special Forces. If he catches wind of what your brother said t' Raleigh ... you'll wake up dangling over chummed waters with sharks below an' no idea how ya got there," Yancy warns with a shrug as he continues checking Raleigh over without so much as a by-your-leave. "Jus' keep an eye out for him."
Category:Ficlet
Category:Icing and Heat storyline
Category:Anchorage Shatterdome (setting)
Category:Yancy's POV
Category:Raleigh's POV
Category:Yancy
Category:Yancy (ficlet)
Category:Sergio
Category:Sergio (ficlet)
Category:Raleigh
Category:Raleigh (ficlet)
Category:Logan
Category:Logan (ficlet)
Category:Meme (mention)
Category:Jackson
Category:Jackson (ficlet)
Category:Derek (mention)
Category:Ranger Body Art (mention)
Category:Raleigh has Asperger's Syndrome
Category:Logan's internal clock
Category:Charlie (mention)
Category:Ficlets with images