"The Mark" -Masks Challenge
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sga_flashficTitle: “The Mark” (1/1)
Author: Kristen999
Characters: John and Ronon -Gen
Rating: PG
Length 1128 words
Challenge: Masks
Summary:Sometimes the lies you believe will be your undoing.
Notes: Thank you to Everybetty for your swift beta. My interpretation of the challenge.
Sweat drips from between the wrinkles of my forehead, the saltiness stinging my eyes, but they remain locked on the unflinching ones before me. I bury the muzzle deeper into the temple of my hostage, hearing it crunch against bone. The human doesn't protest; never lets slip a single sound.
“I said, ‘Lower your weapon!’”
Dreadlocks and layers of animal leather and skins do little to conceal the girth of the beastlike warrior before me. “No,” he snarls with lips covered by wild facial hair.
The people of Atlantis have a mercenary among their ranks and it stalks closer, feeding off the adrenaline of life and death.
The pressure of the trigger doesn't have much give; any more and bits of skull and brain matter will splatter all over my uniform and decorate the sand beneath my boots. My eyes narrow; the Satedan's body displays the relaxed muscles of casualness, as if this happens every day of the week. I can taste the desire to fight radiating from the animal.
I hold all the cards, fingers on my weapon, my captive trying not to wiggle in my vice grip. “Drop your gun!”
The warrior’s voice growls out a reply. “I don't think so.”
Perspiration dampens my hair, causing an itch under the brim of my hat. The standoff makes my heart pound, yet my opponent shows no ill effects from the burning suns in the sky. The dust tickles my throat and it’s hard to control the urge to cough. My metal gun sizzles with heat and it feels like the skin of my hand is searing to it.
I feel the heart of my prisoner beat wildly through my restraining arm, his body rigid with muscles coiled, ready to strike at any second. These two ‘Lanteans picked off my team one by one until I was all that remained. Desperate measures led to even more ruthless tactics, until my blood swelled with renewed superiority...now though, a voice whispers inside my mind questioning who really holds the advantage.
The muscles in my arm ache, holding the commanding officer of Atlantis flush against me.
“I'll kill him,” I threaten again.
“Then go ahead, or your words are empty.”
I blink, surprised, admitting a weakness with my tell. The Satedan's expression never changes; there are no extra lines around his eyes, no facial twitch. Not a single drop of sweat rolls down his face. I wonder if those veins flow with ice.
I grind the gun unmercifully into the skull I want to blow apart so badly. The colonel winces but doesn't plead or grunt.
“You are a solider and you owe an oath to your leader. You will not let him come to harm.” I tighten my arm around the colonel until it crushes the man's ribs and forces all the air out.
“You're right. I am a soldier. And we’re trained not to let our emotions get in the way of duty. If you pull the trigger, you die.”
He says it so matter of factly. For the first time, I don't think my opponent is bluffing. There is no hesitancy in his voice, only confidence. The man's eyes don't even try to beseech his CO, or seek counsel. He just stands and waits, his breathing even and slow.
“You're bluffing!”
“Just shoot him, Ronon!”
Colonel Sheppard grunts when I savagely jab the gun into the flesh under his jaw to shut him up. “You want his blood on your hands?” I yell, dragging the CO of Atlantis towards the gate only a few feet away.
“It won't be on mine,” is the calmly spoken answer as this Ronon follows step by step, the barrel of his gun pointed right at me.
“You will not let the famous Colonel Sheppard die a useless death.”
This Ronon smiles, matching my retreat to salvation, the burden of keeping my hostage still difficult.
“Sheppard would never want me to submit to scum like you.”
Somehow it feels like our positions are reversed, my weapon shaking from the strain. The ‘Lantean does not fear the blood on my hands; he holds honor above weakness.
A great mistake has been made. Perhaps we've been misled, the ‘Lanteans do not quake over threats, do not value a single life above others, are not weak and corrupt.
They uphold a warrior's code and the defiance of both leader and subordinate is one to admire, though I will not allow the murderous Sheppard to live to fight another day.
The Satedan will not hesitate; will not bend to release his commander. Maybe the weak leadership of Atlantis has been exaggerated, blown up to larger than life by tall tales; they are indeed going to be a greater threat to fear. They are not as sympathetic as we've been told; there is no coddling over a single life. They're ruthless in nature and quite unyielding. It's worth much respect.
“You may win today, but I shall retain victory for the Genii.”
Dying now does not matter, if I can take out a menace without being stopped. My only regret is that my final act will not injure the beastly solider. If I cannot kill the man called Ronon, at least I can take with me the satisfaction of demoralizing his will. I'll die at the hands of a perfect warrior; someone who never doubts his actions or is haunted by them.
I hold my breath, finger squeezing the trigger, exacting a long sought out revenge.
Suddenly, my hostage shouts, “Now!”
I feel a jab to my middle, hear the swoosh of moving air when my would-be shield twists out of range. A pain rips through my chest, once, twice, then a third time. The sound of the shots is a sharp report as the ground comes up to meet me. I drop to my knees in a daze of shock and the fiery pain of my chest exploding. I list to the left defiantly, then my body crumples to the ground.
My gun is removed from jellylike fingers; the world spins and loses color. Hands inspect my clothes and the warriors who bested me loom over as I gasp in wet, choking breaths.
“You actually had me worried, Big Guy.”
“I wouldn’t have let him kill you.”
“Well, a signal or something woulda been nice.”
“You're alive.”
“Yeah...well... thanks.”
The words of my enemy garble in my head, a fondness and easy sarcasm so easily concealed. I could have made it.... could have called the bluff and returned to fight another day. How easily I'd been fooled.
My limbs grow cold, lungs unresponsive. I lay bleeding out while the two soldiers I had held in near awe try to keep me alive.
How gullible.
Author: Kristen999
Characters: John and Ronon -Gen
Rating: PG
Length 1128 words
Challenge: Masks
Summary:Sometimes the lies you believe will be your undoing.
Notes: Thank you to Everybetty for your swift beta. My interpretation of the challenge.
Sweat drips from between the wrinkles of my forehead, the saltiness stinging my eyes, but they remain locked on the unflinching ones before me. I bury the muzzle deeper into the temple of my hostage, hearing it crunch against bone. The human doesn't protest; never lets slip a single sound.
“I said, ‘Lower your weapon!’”
Dreadlocks and layers of animal leather and skins do little to conceal the girth of the beastlike warrior before me. “No,” he snarls with lips covered by wild facial hair.
The people of Atlantis have a mercenary among their ranks and it stalks closer, feeding off the adrenaline of life and death.
The pressure of the trigger doesn't have much give; any more and bits of skull and brain matter will splatter all over my uniform and decorate the sand beneath my boots. My eyes narrow; the Satedan's body displays the relaxed muscles of casualness, as if this happens every day of the week. I can taste the desire to fight radiating from the animal.
I hold all the cards, fingers on my weapon, my captive trying not to wiggle in my vice grip. “Drop your gun!”
The warrior’s voice growls out a reply. “I don't think so.”
Perspiration dampens my hair, causing an itch under the brim of my hat. The standoff makes my heart pound, yet my opponent shows no ill effects from the burning suns in the sky. The dust tickles my throat and it’s hard to control the urge to cough. My metal gun sizzles with heat and it feels like the skin of my hand is searing to it.
I feel the heart of my prisoner beat wildly through my restraining arm, his body rigid with muscles coiled, ready to strike at any second. These two ‘Lanteans picked off my team one by one until I was all that remained. Desperate measures led to even more ruthless tactics, until my blood swelled with renewed superiority...now though, a voice whispers inside my mind questioning who really holds the advantage.
The muscles in my arm ache, holding the commanding officer of Atlantis flush against me.
“I'll kill him,” I threaten again.
“Then go ahead, or your words are empty.”
I blink, surprised, admitting a weakness with my tell. The Satedan's expression never changes; there are no extra lines around his eyes, no facial twitch. Not a single drop of sweat rolls down his face. I wonder if those veins flow with ice.
I grind the gun unmercifully into the skull I want to blow apart so badly. The colonel winces but doesn't plead or grunt.
“You are a solider and you owe an oath to your leader. You will not let him come to harm.” I tighten my arm around the colonel until it crushes the man's ribs and forces all the air out.
“You're right. I am a soldier. And we’re trained not to let our emotions get in the way of duty. If you pull the trigger, you die.”
He says it so matter of factly. For the first time, I don't think my opponent is bluffing. There is no hesitancy in his voice, only confidence. The man's eyes don't even try to beseech his CO, or seek counsel. He just stands and waits, his breathing even and slow.
“You're bluffing!”
“Just shoot him, Ronon!”
Colonel Sheppard grunts when I savagely jab the gun into the flesh under his jaw to shut him up. “You want his blood on your hands?” I yell, dragging the CO of Atlantis towards the gate only a few feet away.
“It won't be on mine,” is the calmly spoken answer as this Ronon follows step by step, the barrel of his gun pointed right at me.
“You will not let the famous Colonel Sheppard die a useless death.”
This Ronon smiles, matching my retreat to salvation, the burden of keeping my hostage still difficult.
“Sheppard would never want me to submit to scum like you.”
Somehow it feels like our positions are reversed, my weapon shaking from the strain. The ‘Lantean does not fear the blood on my hands; he holds honor above weakness.
A great mistake has been made. Perhaps we've been misled, the ‘Lanteans do not quake over threats, do not value a single life above others, are not weak and corrupt.
They uphold a warrior's code and the defiance of both leader and subordinate is one to admire, though I will not allow the murderous Sheppard to live to fight another day.
The Satedan will not hesitate; will not bend to release his commander. Maybe the weak leadership of Atlantis has been exaggerated, blown up to larger than life by tall tales; they are indeed going to be a greater threat to fear. They are not as sympathetic as we've been told; there is no coddling over a single life. They're ruthless in nature and quite unyielding. It's worth much respect.
“You may win today, but I shall retain victory for the Genii.”
Dying now does not matter, if I can take out a menace without being stopped. My only regret is that my final act will not injure the beastly solider. If I cannot kill the man called Ronon, at least I can take with me the satisfaction of demoralizing his will. I'll die at the hands of a perfect warrior; someone who never doubts his actions or is haunted by them.
I hold my breath, finger squeezing the trigger, exacting a long sought out revenge.
Suddenly, my hostage shouts, “Now!”
I feel a jab to my middle, hear the swoosh of moving air when my would-be shield twists out of range. A pain rips through my chest, once, twice, then a third time. The sound of the shots is a sharp report as the ground comes up to meet me. I drop to my knees in a daze of shock and the fiery pain of my chest exploding. I list to the left defiantly, then my body crumples to the ground.
My gun is removed from jellylike fingers; the world spins and loses color. Hands inspect my clothes and the warriors who bested me loom over as I gasp in wet, choking breaths.
“You actually had me worried, Big Guy.”
“I wouldn’t have let him kill you.”
“Well, a signal or something woulda been nice.”
“You're alive.”
“Yeah...well... thanks.”
The words of my enemy garble in my head, a fondness and easy sarcasm so easily concealed. I could have made it.... could have called the bluff and returned to fight another day. How easily I'd been fooled.
My limbs grow cold, lungs unresponsive. I lay bleeding out while the two soldiers I had held in near awe try to keep me alive.
How gullible.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-08 11:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-09 10:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-09 01:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-09 10:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-09 01:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-09 10:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-09 05:11 am (UTC)LOL! Well done.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-09 10:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-10 10:29 pm (UTC)Or not, as the case may be.
Anyone playing poker with Ronon had best be able to count cards, that's all I can say.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-11 10:24 pm (UTC)Thank you