[ It started out as something that no one really bothered to look into or care about, as a virus that the human immune system could conquer and tuck away, something like the Epstein-Barr virus.
Something that traveled just as fast.
Chuck, at the time, hadn't thought much of it. No one really did. It was just another version of something like mono or the flu and while the flu was a big fucking problem in the States and all over the world, people tended to turn a blind eye to it despite the epidemic.
The problem was when it turned into something more. Something deadlier than the flu, something that traveled through easily through the the air, like dust in a beam of light from slightly parted curtains.
The virus mutated and swept through the populace, killing men and women and children alike. It was ruthless. It didn't care who you were or what color you were or where you came from - it took an infant as quickly as it took a political leader.
There were a select lucky few that were immune, those that had antibodies running through their veins, some kind of twisted and mutated version of the virus that didn't burn them from the inside out, that didn't rot their teeth and turn their skin a wrinkled, stinking, leaking, pus riddled grey.
A version that didn't reanimate them as walking corpses, intent on nothing but consuming everything in their path, devouring human and animal alike.
Humans resisted, as they are wont to do, but in the end, a virus that is so easily transmittable overcame them quickly, felling their numbers by the thousands.
Chuck's one of those 'lucky' immune (he thinks), him and his dad and a small resistance task force they've cobbled together out of sheer desperation. He can't say how he's immune, he only knows that when his mother was sick and decaying in front of his eyes, he and Herc never left her side, and never got sick.
They'd refused to take her into the quarantine camps, instead opting to hide out in their house and allow the large red X to be painted over the door and an armed guard in hazmats stood watch over all the houses of the infected.
When she died - and they had to make sure she did for fear of reanimation - they burned everything. The clothes, the bed, the house. They had nothing.
And then when the guns were turned on them because fear does horrible things to people, Herc pulled the same gun out he'd used to put a bullet in Angela's decaying brain, and told them they had a choice - let them go, or he shoots.
They were released and now here they are, holed up with Stacker fucking Pentecost and his ragtag group of humans trying desperately to survive. ]
[But it's something. They're alive. At least there's that, even if it's not exactly what they want. Herc for one will never forgive himself for not being present when his wife was attacked. For not being able to prevent her sickness and inevitable death. For not being able to protect his son from the loss of a mother. He can do a lot of things but apparently any of that was just too far from reach.
But he's a strong man. His son is a strong man. They'll manage on.
Some people aren't so lucky. Some people aren't so strong. They lack the unwavering resolve to just keep going. Some people are alone and don't have the need to carry on.
That's what happened to Raleigh Becket. His mom had died of cancer which seemed is some fucking morbid way a relief to the hell house the world had turned into these days. His father had gone and his siblings.. Well. Jaz was around somewhere and he and his brother has taken up arms to try and stop whatever this was. Not that they were doctors, but they could hold their own in a fight and once the dead were dead they weren't people anymore. They were monsters. And they needed to be stopped.
The Beckets? They were pretty good at stopping.
Until Yancy got hit in a raid on an ocean side shopping mall and they got trapped in a chokehold with the dead bearing down on them in every direction. It had been Raleigh's call which direction to go, he'd picked the hall, he'd triggered the horde and ultimately he'd gotten his brother killed.
And that kind of rash thinking isn't going to get you anywhere in a world like this. Not that Raleigh wanted to live after that. After watching his brother torn to pieces as he screamed. As Raleigh crammed himself into an air vent and opened fire but it was too late and he'd depinned a grenade. Yancy was gone and Raleigh cleared the mess, just barely surviving. Just enough to crawl back to Pentecost. But disobeying orders to go down there and save some civilians? That kind of disregard? Pentecost has no place for insubordination in his ranks and Raleigh had been quickly drummed out of the group.
He drifted for a while.. considered giving himself up for a while, letting the monsters claim him like they claim everyone else these days but he, unfortunately, seemed to have that small amount of self preservation which kept him from doing it.
In the end he worked with the government for a while, in a construction effort to contain the hot zone but it wasn't really working all that well and he'd found himself back in Pentecost's fold. Why, he isn't sure quite yet.. but he's here. So there's that at least.
Sat in the locker room of the high school the group has taken over and fortified, lovingly called the shatterdome. sterilized water is boiled three times and then, when he's sure it's safe, he takes a sip and begins the process of scrubbing blood and dirt and grime from his skin and clothes. He reeks. He's tired and thin and haggard. He's not much good to anyone to be honest no one trusts him to be. Not even him.]
The hell are you doin' here..
[He says quietly as he washes, to no one in particular but himself. Sat on the bench, shirtless as he works himself over with a washcloth.]
[ Chuck outwardly blames Herc, snarls that he should've fucking done something, anything, but deep down..
He knows that there wasn't a goddamn thing Herc could've done.
It happened too fast. There were too many the day Sydney was swarmed. There'd been an outbreak but they'd been assured time and again that it was secured and the mass public believed it because they're fucking sheep and they'll believe anything the media says.
Chuck knew better, even then. So did Herc.
Herc had to make a choice -- Angela was all the way across town and Chuck was in school by the base, and...
Fuck, he'd done what he thought was right at the time and all it got him was a lifetime of perpetual loneliness and a kid that fucking hates him.
Despite his best intentions, Chuck couldn't help but resent him for it, couldn't help but let the wound his mothers death left fester and rot inside of him, not unlike the disease that everyone feared so much.
It also means Chuck can't let himself forgive Herc - he knows everyone makes mistakes and fucks up but they don't, not anymore. No one can afford to fuck up these days. There's too much at stake and it sits bitter on his tongue like bile, throat burning in rage.
The entire lingering population of the world, for example.
It was dwindling in numbers, thousands still died daily, but they were doing all they could to contain the disease, bombing the areas that were swarmed with infected for the 'greater good'. There wasn't much else to be done.
Chuck does what he needs to do to ensure the survival of the human population. He has a vested interest in it, seeing as he happens to be one. He's lost everything to this war, to the disease and to the effort. He'd lost his mother and basically his father, too, because when Angela died Herc changed just as Chuck did. They hardened themselves and he'd thrown himself into Stacker's strike group, dragging his son along with him.
Chuck grew up learning how to be a fighter, how to soldier on when life is at its worst. He doesn't have time for insolence or disobedience because that is a good way to get yourself killed -- along with everyone else around you.
It's probably why he has such a problem with Raleigh showing back up. Chuck knew the story. He'd been younger when it happened but he wasn't stupid and word travels fast.
He avoids the man when he arrives, ignores him until they're forced to speak and even then it's sharp and quick, Chuck making an exit not because he's a coward, but because he can't stand to be in the presence of someone who took risks like that and got people killed.
Reminds him too much of Herc's fuckups.
Except the 'Dome is small - it's just a fortified high school - and the locker room is the best place to bath and relax.
Unless there's already someone in there you don't particularly like. ]
Dunno, mate.
[ His voice echoes off the wall, Australian lilt low and growly and aggressive. ]
Figure most of us are wonderin' the very same thing.
[Great. Of all the people to walk in of course it would be Chuck fucking Hanson. Raleigh tenses by instinct, looking up at the intruder, but it's a free country he guesses and so he just tries to shrug him off and return to what passes as a bath.
Can't catch a fucking break, can he.]
I'm just here to pull my weight, man.
[Nothing more, nothing less. He doesn't really try to defend himself. Pentecost is the one that brought him back. He didn't beg. He was doing just fine...awful..on his own. And he doesn't owe chuck anything.]
Is not the response he was expecting, especially with the jab he threw in.
He's momentarily stunned into silence as his mind whirls to process and come up with a proper rebuttal, but he's fucking tired and drained and his brain gives a great big fuck you and fucks off.
Great. ]
Do you even sleep?
[ If that's the best Chuck has maybe he needs to reevaluate his whole life. ]
[Going back to his business. He's getting better with his temper these days and Herc had mentioned Chuck was always looking for trouble. In the interest of not getting tossed out again he's trying to just play cool. Chuck can barb him all he wants. He deserves it.
And again, it's not like he owes the kid anything, but he still finds himself talking.]
Turns out being a chronic, unmedicated insomniac is helpful when the world is ending.
[Chuck has a point but Raleigh has been like this so long he doesn't know what functioning normally even feels like anymore. He makes a face but says nothing for another moment. Thinking.]
Wish I knew. You know how the Marshal is. He says jump, you do it. Said he was looking for people. Keep the numbers up.
[And it's helpful to have suicidal soldiers when you're planning kamikaze missions.]
That sounds like a question for him, not me. I just do what I'm told.
[Sometimes. Maybe. And with that Raleigh stands, turning to face Chuck.]
If you wanna fight about what happened with my brother just say so. Nothing you could say to me is anything I don't already know or think, myself. I don't know why I'm here. I don't know why I'm even still alive. But I am. I fucked up and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. So you wanna go, fine. Let's go, Chuck.
Yeah but I wasn't askin' him, was I. Was asking what changed for you
[ But, well. Maybe Raleigh doesn't have an answer. Maybe he just doesn't give a shit what happens anymore and Stacker said jump and Raleigh said fuck it.
Whatever the case, Chuck's feathers are ruffling and he takes a step closer. ]
We don't need to fight about it. Y'aleady know everything I have to say. You're gonna get us killed and I? I like being alive. This world is shit but I'd like to continue living in it, cause it's mine. Not theirs.
[And Raleigh nods because he can't argue with any of that. He doesn't want to die, either. Not really. He's already tried a few times and couldn't ever quite go through with it. Like he had some greater purpose to fulfill before he shuffled off his mortal coil. And knowing that, he considers his words for a moment and answers in earnest.]
If we fall then Yancy's death will have been for nothing.
[He licks his lips. Saying his name is still painful. Even now. An open, festering wound.]
I want to make sure there's a world to remember him. I want what you want. And I wanna win.
[A nod. He's not exactly sure what's happening right now, especially between them, but he seems to have staved off a fight. And that feels like a good thing.]
I was gonna..bottom half. [He makes a sort of awkward gesture at taking his pants off.]
[ Somehow. Chuck is feeling like his skin is too tight around muscle and bone, like he wants to stand under scalding water, let it pour on his face and chest and shoulders and leave him raw and tingling.
Can't really take a proper shower though; lack of running, clean water prevents that. Boiling works but it's not the same. ]
Yeah, I can take a hint.
[ He'll fuck off, come back later and do his own business. ]
[ Chuck does have a routine. He's finicky as fuck about it - but he needs structure. He needs some kind of stability in this chaos, and setting up a routine is something that provides small comfort.
[Because why not. They're guys. And never mind Chuck is attractive. Raleigh hasn't thought much about Hanky panky in the last half a decade. All this kinda kills your boner. He doesn't have the forethought to imagine if it didn't. If by some miracle he wasn't the last gay or bisexual man on earth. Unfortunately, he's pretty sure he might be the last one in this compound.
And here all he really needs is a good, thorough fucking. Someone to just push him down and stretch him open and fuck him like a sloppy whore.
Well shit. Maybe his sex drive isn't completely dead, after all.
We'll just ignore that for now, though, as he unbuckles his many belts and shoves his dirty jeans and briefs off. And if Chuck is looking, as curious men sometimes do, he gets a big 'ol eyeful of the heat Raleigh is packing. And oh, is he packing. And he fucking knows it as the thing is adorned with a silver stud right there on the end.
there's a reason or two he swaggers the way he does.]
[ Just ask, Becket boy. Chuck enjoys being in charge as much as he likes being pounded from behind.
Not that that's common knowledge. Not that he's had an opportunity.
Not that any of his partners are still alive.
At any rate, he just steps on the rest of the way and shrugs out of his coat and pulls his shirt off, stripping down without looking at Raleigh until the end.
That's when he gets the eye candy because godamn he hasn't been slacking on fitness and that's the biggest, fattest cock he's ever seen in his life and he's practically salivating at the sight.
[Oooh but he catches you peeking. You peek and something swells in Raleigh's chest and he can't help but smirk to himself. That's right, you little shit.
And he can't help the swagger as he re-wets his cloth with boiled water and slowly goes about washing the rest of his body. It feels good. And okay so maybe he peeks at Chuck a little bit, too. So sue him. Maybe he catches Chuck's eye at some point and smirks harder, quirking an eyebrow.]
[that's right. He sure does. Because Raleigh is looking him right in the eye with that smirk of his and then slowly standing up, semi hard, arms by his side, facing the other.
Chuck stares back at him defiantly, hands balling into his fists at his sides. He's shucked all of his clothing and stands there without shame, in all his furry glory.
He's not packing on pounds by any means - he's stocky and burly and looks more like a street brawler than anything else, but goddamn standing in front of Raleigh is like standing in front of some kind of Greek god. Such bullshit.
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theshatterdome2014-11-11 07:11 pm
no subject
Something that traveled just as fast.
Chuck, at the time, hadn't thought much of it. No one really did. It was just another version of something like mono or the flu and while the flu was a big fucking problem in the States and all over the world, people tended to turn a blind eye to it despite the epidemic.
The problem was when it turned into something more. Something deadlier than the flu, something that traveled through easily through the the air, like dust in a beam of light from slightly parted curtains.
The virus mutated and swept through the populace, killing men and women and children alike. It was ruthless. It didn't care who you were or what color you were or where you came from - it took an infant as quickly as it took a political leader.
There were a select lucky few that were immune, those that had antibodies running through their veins, some kind of twisted and mutated version of the virus that didn't burn them from the inside out, that didn't rot their teeth and turn their skin a wrinkled, stinking, leaking, pus riddled grey.
A version that didn't reanimate them as walking corpses, intent on nothing but consuming everything in their path, devouring human and animal alike.
Humans resisted, as they are wont to do, but in the end, a virus that is so easily transmittable overcame them quickly, felling their numbers by the thousands.
Chuck's one of those 'lucky' immune (he thinks), him and his dad and a small resistance task force they've cobbled together out of sheer desperation. He can't say how he's immune, he only knows that when his mother was sick and decaying in front of his eyes, he and Herc never left her side, and never got sick.
They'd refused to take her into the quarantine camps, instead opting to hide out in their house and allow the large red X to be painted over the door and an armed guard in hazmats stood watch over all the houses of the infected.
When she died - and they had to make sure she did for fear of reanimation - they burned everything. The clothes, the bed, the house. They had nothing.
And then when the guns were turned on them because fear does horrible things to people, Herc pulled the same gun out he'd used to put a bullet in Angela's decaying brain, and told them they had a choice - let them go, or he shoots.
They were released and now here they are, holed up with Stacker fucking Pentecost and his ragtag group of humans trying desperately to survive. ]
no subject
But he's a strong man. His son is a strong man. They'll manage on.
Some people aren't so lucky. Some people aren't so strong. They lack the unwavering resolve to just keep going. Some people are alone and don't have the need to carry on.
That's what happened to Raleigh Becket. His mom had died of cancer which seemed is some fucking morbid way a relief to the hell house the world had turned into these days. His father had gone and his siblings.. Well. Jaz was around somewhere and he and his brother has taken up arms to try and stop whatever this was. Not that they were doctors, but they could hold their own in a fight and once the dead were dead they weren't people anymore. They were monsters. And they needed to be stopped.
The Beckets? They were pretty good at stopping.
Until Yancy got hit in a raid on an ocean side shopping mall and they got trapped in a chokehold with the dead bearing down on them in every direction. It had been Raleigh's call which direction to go, he'd picked the hall, he'd triggered the horde and ultimately he'd gotten his brother killed.
And that kind of rash thinking isn't going to get you anywhere in a world like this. Not that Raleigh wanted to live after that. After watching his brother torn to pieces as he screamed. As Raleigh crammed himself into an air vent and opened fire but it was too late and he'd depinned a grenade. Yancy was gone and Raleigh cleared the mess, just barely surviving. Just enough to crawl back to Pentecost. But disobeying orders to go down there and save some civilians? That kind of disregard? Pentecost has no place for insubordination in his ranks and Raleigh had been quickly drummed out of the group.
He drifted for a while.. considered giving himself up for a while, letting the monsters claim him like they claim everyone else these days but he, unfortunately, seemed to have that small amount of self preservation which kept him from doing it.
In the end he worked with the government for a while, in a construction effort to contain the hot zone but it wasn't really working all that well and he'd found himself back in Pentecost's fold. Why, he isn't sure quite yet.. but he's here. So there's that at least.
Sat in the locker room of the high school the group has taken over and fortified, lovingly called the shatterdome. sterilized water is boiled three times and then, when he's sure it's safe, he takes a sip and begins the process of scrubbing blood and dirt and grime from his skin and clothes. He reeks. He's tired and thin and haggard. He's not much good to anyone to be honest no one trusts him to be. Not even him.]
The hell are you doin' here..
[He says quietly as he washes, to no one in particular but himself. Sat on the bench, shirtless as he works himself over with a washcloth.]
no subject
He knows that there wasn't a goddamn thing Herc could've done.
It happened too fast. There were too many the day Sydney was swarmed. There'd been an outbreak but they'd been assured time and again that it was secured and the mass public believed it because they're fucking sheep and they'll believe anything the media says.
Chuck knew better, even then. So did Herc.
Herc had to make a choice -- Angela was all the way across town and Chuck was in school by the base, and...
Fuck, he'd done what he thought was right at the time and all it got him was a lifetime of perpetual loneliness and a kid that fucking hates him.
Despite his best intentions, Chuck couldn't help but resent him for it, couldn't help but let the wound his mothers death left fester and rot inside of him, not unlike the disease that everyone feared so much.
It also means Chuck can't let himself forgive Herc - he knows everyone makes mistakes and fucks up but they don't, not anymore. No one can afford to fuck up these days. There's too much at stake and it sits bitter on his tongue like bile, throat burning in rage.
The entire lingering population of the world, for example.
It was dwindling in numbers, thousands still died daily, but they were doing all they could to contain the disease, bombing the areas that were swarmed with infected for the 'greater good'. There wasn't much else to be done.
Chuck does what he needs to do to ensure the survival of the human population. He has a vested interest in it, seeing as he happens to be one. He's lost everything to this war, to the disease and to the effort. He'd lost his mother and basically his father, too, because when Angela died Herc changed just as Chuck did. They hardened themselves and he'd thrown himself into Stacker's strike group, dragging his son along with him.
Chuck grew up learning how to be a fighter, how to soldier on when life is at its worst. He doesn't have time for insolence or disobedience because that is a good way to get yourself killed -- along with everyone else around you.
It's probably why he has such a problem with Raleigh showing back up. Chuck knew the story. He'd been younger when it happened but he wasn't stupid and word travels fast.
He avoids the man when he arrives, ignores him until they're forced to speak and even then it's sharp and quick, Chuck making an exit not because he's a coward, but because he can't stand to be in the presence of someone who took risks like that and got people killed.
Reminds him too much of Herc's fuckups.
Except the 'Dome is small - it's just a fortified high school - and the locker room is the best place to bath and relax.
Unless there's already someone in there you don't particularly like. ]
Dunno, mate.
[ His voice echoes off the wall, Australian lilt low and growly and aggressive. ]
Figure most of us are wonderin' the very same thing.
[ He would be shirtless. ]
no subject
Can't catch a fucking break, can he.]
I'm just here to pull my weight, man.
[Nothing more, nothing less. He doesn't really try to defend himself. Pentecost is the one that brought him back. He didn't beg. He was doing just fine...awful..on his own. And he doesn't owe chuck anything.]
I'll be done in a minute.
no subject
[ he's gonna get them all killed, fuck.
And...eh. It's free enough. Chuck can't stop the has been from being in here. ]
Don't leave on my account, mate.
[ He gives Raleigh a thorough once over, brows up. ]
Looks like y'could use a good scrub.
no subject
What, you wanna help?
[Asked with a quirked eyebrow and a lopsided smirk as he continues to wipe the dirt from his arms.]
Been on overnight fence duty and then out in the gardens all day. Bound to get a little messy.
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Is not the response he was expecting, especially with the jab he threw in.
He's momentarily stunned into silence as his mind whirls to process and come up with a proper rebuttal, but he's fucking tired and drained and his brain gives a great big fuck you and fucks off.
Great. ]
Do you even sleep?
[ If that's the best Chuck has maybe he needs to reevaluate his whole life. ]
no subject
[Going back to his business. He's getting better with his temper these days and Herc had mentioned Chuck was always looking for trouble. In the interest of not getting tossed out again he's trying to just play cool. Chuck can barb him all he wants. He deserves it.
And again, it's not like he owes the kid anything, but he still finds himself talking.]
Turns out being a chronic, unmedicated insomniac is helpful when the world is ending.
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[ Just saying.
He leans against the door and folds his arms, watching every move Raleigh Becket makes. ]
So you're Pentecost's bright idea. What's the plan, then..?
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Wish I knew. You know how the Marshal is. He says jump, you do it. Said he was looking for people. Keep the numbers up.
[And it's helpful to have suicidal soldiers when you're planning kamikaze missions.]
no subject
[ Five. Fucking. Years. Chucks eyes flash and he shifts, dropping his arms in order to hook his thumbs in his waistband. ]
What's changed?
no subject
[Sometimes. Maybe. And with that Raleigh stands, turning to face Chuck.]
If you wanna fight about what happened with my brother just say so. Nothing you could say to me is anything I don't already know or think, myself. I don't know why I'm here. I don't know why I'm even still alive. But I am. I fucked up and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. So you wanna go, fine. Let's go, Chuck.
no subject
[ But, well. Maybe Raleigh doesn't have an answer. Maybe he just doesn't give a shit what happens anymore and Stacker said jump and Raleigh said fuck it.
Whatever the case, Chuck's feathers are ruffling and he takes a step closer. ]
We don't need to fight about it. Y'aleady know everything I have to say. You're gonna get us killed and I? I like being alive. This world is shit but I'd like to continue living in it, cause it's mine. Not theirs.
no subject
If we fall then Yancy's death will have been for nothing.
[He licks his lips. Saying his name is still painful. Even now. An open, festering wound.]
I want to make sure there's a world to remember him. I want what you want. And I wanna win.
no subject
And that's bullshit. Chuck's mum mattered. They all did. Yancy too.
He seems satisfied with Raleigh's answer and crams his hands into his pockets. ]
Good. Glad you feel that way.
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I was gonna..bottom half. [He makes a sort of awkward gesture at taking his pants off.]
Need to wash my clothes..
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Can't really take a proper shower though; lack of running, clean water prevents that. Boiling works but it's not the same. ]
Yeah, I can take a hint.
[ He'll fuck off, come back later and do his own business. ]
no subject
Ah-
I mean. I'm not bashful. If it ruins your schedule or whatever.
[And Chuck seems to always be on a schedule doing something]
Doesn't bother me any.
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He exhales, and turns back to face Raleigh. ]
Don't bother me if it doesn't bother you.
[ He's already peeling out of his shirt. ]
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Strip.
[Because why not. They're guys. And never mind Chuck is attractive. Raleigh hasn't thought much about Hanky panky in the last half a decade. All this kinda kills your boner. He doesn't have the forethought to imagine if it didn't. If by some miracle he wasn't the last gay or bisexual man on earth. Unfortunately, he's pretty sure he might be the last one in this compound.
And here all he really needs is a good, thorough fucking. Someone to just push him down and stretch him open and fuck him like a sloppy whore.
Well shit. Maybe his sex drive isn't completely dead, after all.
We'll just ignore that for now, though, as he unbuckles his many belts and shoves his dirty jeans and briefs off. And if Chuck is looking, as curious men sometimes do, he gets a big 'ol eyeful of the heat Raleigh is packing. And oh, is he packing. And he fucking knows it as the thing is adorned with a silver stud right there on the end.
there's a reason or two he swaggers the way he does.]
no subject
Not that that's common knowledge. Not that he's had an opportunity.
Not that any of his partners are still alive.
At any rate, he just steps on the rest of the way and shrugs out of his coat and pulls his shirt off, stripping down without looking at Raleigh until the end.
That's when he gets the eye candy because godamn he hasn't been slacking on fitness and that's the biggest, fattest cock he's ever seen in his life and he's practically salivating at the sight.
Ahem.
Back to business. ]
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And he can't help the swagger as he re-wets his cloth with boiled water and slowly goes about washing the rest of his body. It feels good. And okay so maybe he peeks at Chuck a little bit, too. So sue him. Maybe he catches Chuck's eye at some point and smirks harder, quirking an eyebrow.]
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Almost everyone.
Enough for it to not be weird.
He can't help himself - it's been a while and Raleigh's fucking gorgeous. His cock is huge and Chuck wants to get on his knees and suck it.
Smirk all you want, big boy. Chuck sees you looking too. ]
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Your move.]
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Shit.
Chuck stares back at him defiantly, hands balling into his fists at his sides. He's shucked all of his clothing and stands there without shame, in all his furry glory.
He's not packing on pounds by any means - he's stocky and burly and looks more like a street brawler than anything else, but goddamn standing in front of Raleigh is like standing in front of some kind of Greek god. Such bullshit.
He can't help but be half hard, too. ]
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