puddingpunter

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

That took me too friggin long.

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

The goddamn smell of it nearly made him throw up and ruined any hope he had of passing out.

Perfluorocarbon. A chemical compound that was somehow both a godsend in the medical field and simultaneously an abomination mankind should have never been allowed to touch. Blood substitutes for transfusions. Optical operations. Tattoo removals. Enhanced gas exchange. Lung injury treatments due to aforementioned ability. It had many benefits for modern medicine, some currently in practice and some only in theory until they could be approved for human use, but its notorious nickname as 'liquid oxygen' is what made chills run up Icarus' spine. Chemical warfare. Amplified torture. Having a substance viscous enough to mimic drowning but oxygenated enough to keep it's victim alive made waterboarding ten times worse than it already was.

Icarus did not fear death. Nor did he mind pain. In his line of work, one quickly became used to it after forcibly building up a tolerance via both occupational hazards and condemnation to such discomfort in training.

But he would rather death than to become the next Kiki Camarena.

Platt, as Icarus decided to call the man before him due to his semblance to the actor Oliver Platt, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The bearded man took his time smoking a few puffs, and then addressed Icarus. "Good, you're still awake. I was not sure where I left my salts."

At some point during Icarus' "interrogation" he'd been moved from the room his captors originally dragged him into, and onto a bathroom farther down a dark corridor. They'd also taken the chair from him but wisely bound his wrists behind his back. He'd been left alone for the past god-knows-how-long, all the while fidgeting with his hands; his new visitor had a bucket down by his feet. Icarus immediately recognized it as the source of the perfluorocarbon stench.

"I am going to make this very simple for you. I will kill you. My boss knows who you are. My boss also understands your stubbornness and does not wish to waste anymore resources on you so now I am allowed to do as I please. I am taking the liberty of giving you a chance to pick when you die, however. If you give me something useful I will grant you an immediate death. Your friend does not have this privilege so do not attempt to negotiate on her behalf."

Icarus said nothing and for a long moment, Platt stared straight at him while taking another drag from the cigarette in his fingers. "Very well." Icarus had anticipated the bucket being brought closer but his attention was so focused on it that he'd completely missed the cigarette, brushing it off as Platt simply reaching to grab him, until he felt the burn of it smolder into his already-injured cheekbone. Icarus jerked his head back, screaming, and Platt kept pushing until the paper thing was a crumpled up completely. Icarus didn't have a chance to recover before his head was abruptly shoved into the bucket. He knew struggling was pointless but he couldn't help it, instincts kicking in and forcing him to fight back despite the futility. Eventually he had to take a breath. The second the perfluorocarbon ran down his throat, he choked on a coughing fit. It rapidly filled his lungs and Icarus had to heave to get anything going in or out. The change in density made respiration difficult and his head go light. For a few seconds there was peace when his body finally adjusted. Then his head was yanked back up again.

"Do you know what lingchi is?" His perfect accent and enunciation of the Mandarin term caught Icarus totally off guard. Who the hell was he? The sudden realization that Platt was lying hit Icarus like train. Platt wasn't going to kill him anytime soon regardless of what Icarus did. He was going to let Icarus believe that was the plan and drag this out for as long as he could. Now he understood; death would not be welcomed until Platt permitted it. Platt would go on and on until Icarus either succumbed to his injuries or his mind finally snapped.

Fine then. Bring it on.

Platt was in his face again. "Of course you do, who am I kidding." He laughed then, and released his hold on his victim's hair. Icarus fell on his side then subsequently hacked up everything filling his lungs in an ugly cacophony of wheezing and vomiting. Tears streamed down his face as residual goo stung his eyes, blurring his vision. Platt began to roll up his sleeves. "I'll tell you something. The longest survivor of a live flaying lasted six whole fucking days. You know how long the salted one did?" He roughly smacked Icarus' face as if to grab his attention. "Four. You probably knew that, too."

Icarus squinted in the dim lighting, trying to get a better look at his captor. Then it clicked.
"Danylo Dog Butcher." Shit, one of Asimov's right-hand men.
"Good morning, Icarus the Fallen. You live well up to your reputation, not ten minutes and you already identify me. You have given Mister Asimov quite a headache. I am honored to be able to see you in the flesh. Unfortunately you are also quite dirty so I will refrain from shaking your hand."

Platt -well, Danylo- didn't seem surprised. A hint of amusement but otherwise no indication of how he felt about being recognized. Icarus knew Danylo wasn't the man's real name but that was what he went by. He had a feeling he also suspected where the rest of the pseudonym came from... As if reading his mind, Danylo said, "Would you like to see my dogs? Beautiful creatures. All of them minimum thirteen generations of the finest champion lines. Not that garbage show-line bullshit, I mean actual champion line. Well rounded working breeds. Do you know how magnificent it is to be able to see a dog do what it was made for?"

Icarus continued worrying at his left thumb.

"Not one of them has ever eaten kibble. I feed them only the finest meats God has to offer. They probably eat better than you." He chuckled and stepped forward to haul Icarus upright by his shirt. "Let's go meet them. They love people."

His thumb snapped.

Fortunately the sound of his basal joint and metacarpal fracturing was muted due to the small size of the broken bones involved but Icarus couldn't help hissing from the pain. He struggled in Danylo's grasp. Danylo moved pick up Icarus off the floor but by then Icarus had already managed to free his left hand from his binds. Icarus grabbed Danylo's leg and pulled, taking advantage of the natural bend in his knee. Danylo instantly fell down to kneel and Icarus moved to pull his captor into a headlock. Danylo was a large man but was by no means out of shape. With a quick whip forward, Icarus found himself flipped forward straight over Danylo and flat onto his back. The concrete floor knocked the wind out of him. Danylo used the opportunity to scramble to his feet and out of reach. He pulled a knife from one of his pockets as Icarus staggered upright. The men began to circle each other. Danylo feigned a a jab forward and laughed when Icarus jerked back clumsily. His vision was hazy, footwork off and form incorrect- hell, he could barely stand upright. A car wreck and the several subsequent beatings severely impeded his ability to fight so if he was careful and lucky then maybe, just maybe...

Fumbling with his belt, Icarus pulled it out from the loops in his pants and held both ends on each fist. Danylo chose to change their rotation direction from counter-clockwise to clockwise and for a few more cycles they continued that way. Finally, Icarus stepped forward to force Danylo in the opposite direction, and lashed out. The metal end of the belt whooshed past Danylo's head, as anticipated, but in turn Danylo had stepped right into the bucket of perfluorocarbon that had been sitting there forgotten for the past several minutes. The Dog Butcher staggered and that's when Icarus moved in. He kicked out, the base of his shoe hitting Danylo straight in the abdomen. Danylo hunched forward and groaned but did not fall. Icarus quickly wrapped both end of the belt around his hands and lurched forward to wrap them around Danylo's neck. He twisted, pulled, and put out a leg to push against Danylo. Naturally, Danylo grasped at the leather around his throat in an attempt to pull it off all the while screaming angrily. His shouts were cut off into gasping. Icarus pulled harder and Danylo retaliated by lashing out with the knife still in his hand. The blade hit it's mark, a large gash tearing up the side of Icarus' thigh. Before Danylo could strike again Icarus leaned to the side and shoved Danylo away, releasing him. Still stunned from the lack of adequate oxygen, Danylo was too slow to move out of the way when Icarus kicked at his head. His head swung straight into the wall but that apparently only made him angrier.

Icarus took a wobbly step back as Danylo got up again. And then Danylo laughed. Icarus braced himself, expecting the other to charge, but was met with another stab of pain- this time in his shoulder as Danylo's knife came flying at him. Icarus screamed, losing his grip on the belt, and that's when Danylo decided to charge. He swung out with an uppercut. Icarus stepped back to dodge, just barely missing. Again, and again, and again. Finally Danylo had him nearly backed against the wall. Icarus pulled the knife from his shoulder and held it up, both arms shaking. He was beginning to grow dizzy.

Danylo laughed again. "That's it? You disappoint me. Think fast." He jabbed at Icarus and smiled when the man flinched. "Come on. Do something. Move, move." Danylo did this several more times, each hitting only air. Malicious play. He was toying with him. Icarus made the mistake of trying to go at him with the knife but was consequently knocked over with a harsh hit directly at his ear. He went down hard, knife skittering away somewhere out of sight. Danylo seized the opportunity to get on top and pin him by the throat. He pulled his arm back, and punched hard. Icarus was nearly knocked unconscious, blackness beginning to seep in the edges of his vision. Danylo prepared himself for another blow.

He failed.

In a last ditch effort to save himself, Icarus miraculously managed to grab the handle of the empty pail laying nearby and knocked it against Danylo's temple. The thin metal receptacle pathetically caved in upon impact but had done it's job long enough for Icarus to swing once more. Danylo fell to the side, a trickle of red staining the side of his head. Icarus sat up, held the bucket with both hands, and screamed as he brought it down on Danylo's neck. There was a crunch, and then no more. Danylo didn't move.

Icarus left.

⁝ 🇵​🇦​🇱​🇦​🇨​🇪​ 🇦​🇹​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​ 🇪​🇳​🇩​ 🇴​🇫​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​ 🇷​🇴​🇦​🇩​​ ⁝

"Yep, you found me. Destiny works in mysterious ways" Auium hummed in confirmation. The place she called home was specifically chosen to make locating her extremely difficult (if not entirely impossible). The strategic hiding spot was in itself a challenge to access even by the few who did know where to look so Auium had no idea how either the prince or the witch stumbled upon her humble abode but she wasn't going to start asking questions now. She would simply remain appreciative.

"Now come along, we have much to discuss. There is a lot to cover and I need you to tell me what's been happening so far." She grabbed the prince's hand and lead him inside, simultaneously gesturing for the woman accompanying said prince to follow. Cleyo followed not far behind their two new guests and made sure to secure the doors. "Oh goodness me, I've nearly forgotten! I'm so sorry, you're soaking wet!" Auium released the prince and then scampered off to find something to help dry them off, the gentle echo of her hooves against the floor gradually growing quieter as she disappeared down a corridor. Cleo spoke up. "Please, make yourselves at home. I cannot imagine it was very comfortable outside, with the rain and whatnot. Can I get you anything to drink? Are you hungry?" If he had to guess Cleyo would bet he already knew the answers but he didn't wish to surrender formalities quiet yet. After all, at least one of the people standing before him was a royal and neither were close acquaintances, only strangers. Auium returned then with two towels and handed one to each guest. Without further ado, she turned to the woman. "So, who might you be?"

Rebirth

I SWEAR I'M ALIVE AND LOYAL, BUT AWFULLY LATE AS ALWAYS.

Rebirth

_{🇨​ 🇭​ 🇮​ 🇪​ 🇫​ 🇵​ 🇪​ 🇹​ 🇹​ 🇾​ 🇴​ 🇫​ 🇫​ 🇮​ 🇨​ 🇪​ 🇷​ 🇦​ 🇷​ 🇱​ 🇴​ 🇰​ 🇪​ 🇾​ 🇪​ 🇸​ 🇦​ 🇰​ 🇦​ ·· 🇴​ 🇿​ 🇾​ 🇲​ 🇦​ 🇳​ 🇩​ 🇮​ 🇦​ 🇸​ ··}

Twelve hostiles, six hostages. An unfavorable 2:1 ratio. Arlo mindlessly rubbed the side of his jaw as he poured over the facts bouncing around in his head. To some people six hostages meant six tries until you failed the mission but Arlo had a tendency to look at it from another perspective, slightly more pessimistic albeit also leaning closer towards realistic in his opinion; six extra ways to fuck up. He disliked the fact where the main objective seemed to be the elimination of the insurgents but rather than stand up and risk getting written up for insubordination by criticizing his superior, Arlo instead opted for exercising the benefit of the doubt and went with the interpretation; your priority is to terminate the threats, but captures are a bonus as opposed to terminate targets primary, hostage retrieval secondary. Ah yes, he adored his over-thinking brain.

Next thought, the breach. Arlo knew nearly nothing about his partner except that she was seated not far from himself. He could actually see her from here and could easily start a conversation, if he so chose, without the need to get up. Okay so there was his partner but... what about the plan? They'd been informed that their rendezvous point would be an oil refinery but without a blueprint map layout it would be difficult to gauge the structure's layout (thus openings to avoid or good spots to find cover). Where were the hostiles? Where were the hostages? Arlo thought back to Lieutenant Major McTavish's monologue, he's mentioned the structure's office block. Okay fine so that would likely be closer towards the center as opposed to the layout's outer perimeter. Should this be a stealth breach so they could focus on securing the hostages first or one meant to attract the hostiles and draw them away from the hostages while the team inevitably picked them off one by one? 'Screw this' he thought to himself. Arlo stood, stretched, and approached Ms. Carson AKA Outsider. He selected an empty seat right beside her and plopped himself down. "Ozymandias, at your service" he introduced, sticking out a hand to shake. "So, first impressions, what do you think? Of the scenario, not me." He added the clarification quickly in order to avoid an awkward assessment.

Name Change Request

May I please have my username changed to puddingpunter?

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

He heard it before he saw them. He's been preparing to round the corner up ahead when there was the screech of tires, the stench of burnt rubber filling his nostrils. Then driver's side of his vehicle was suddenly caving in on him.

Icarus had known something bad was going to happen the moment they turned off the public streets and into the shadows of dimly lit neighborhood roads. The hairs along the back of his neck stood up. He knew -he knew!- he should have stopped right then and there. Turned the car around and gone with another plan. But it had taken him goddamned months to be able to get this close to Asimov's men, and he feared he'd lose all traces and be back to square one if he lost sight of them now. So he curled his fingers tighter onto the steering wheel and stubbornly pressed on. Look where that got him.

Hacking up a wet cough, Icarus assessed the situation. He was still in his seat, a good sign, but the pressure building in the front of his face and the acrid taste of blood in his mouth suggested he may have broken his nose. Seemed the airbags had failed him... He groaned and tried moving his head to look around. Crazy what sort of things an automobile accident can cause the human body. All that metal, all that leather. Tempered glass, reinforced seat belts. And for what? One would think that in this day and age, vehicles would be sturdy enough to protect their passengers but alas, it seemed mankind was evolving much too slowly to keep up with the advancement of their technology. Still moved around like beads in a tin can if jarred too much. More specifically he'd been t-boned and Icarus only knew this because the impact hadn't knocked him out. Yet. He felt he was on the verge of losing consciousness but stubbornly refused to go lax. Still slouched forward over the steering wheel, Icarus grunted and sat up. The obnoxious blaring finally stopped when he lifted his chest off the horn but there was still that aggravating bright light to his side. Squinting, he put his hand up to shield his eyes from the high-beams. The Hummer that had charged him backed up a few feet before it stopped once more. Doors on both sides opened up and out stepped three dark-clad figures. Icarus undid the seat belt and dove to floor space beneath the passenger seat, ducking just in time to avoid the rain of bullets piercing the thin metal barrier between him and them.

Icarus opened his door and fell out with a thud, clawing at the frost-hardened ground to put the car between himself and his assailants. Usually he enjoyed the cold but now the snow falling from the darkened sky above made it hard for him to see what he was doing. It make his breath form white puffs and his fingers tremble just a little too much. 'Shit.' He pulled out the Glock from his belt and peeked under the vehicle; one to his right and the other two on his left. Okay, this was doable. He decided to file out the single first and crawled closer, practically getting under his car. Icarus pointed the gun. 'One. Two. Three...' He squeezed the trigger and the second his quarry dropped, aimed the finishing shot at the man's head. The other two backed away from the car and attempted to split up. Icarus rolled out from beneath his car and got up into a crouch before moving closer to the front end. He popped up and quickly fired two more rounds, downing a second man. The third fired back but in that moment exposed himself, allowing Icarus to take his last shot.

He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he was forced to cough. Icarus rose and sheathed his gun.

A forth figure approached from behind and pulled him into a headlock.

He threw his head back and was granted a satisfying crack as bone met bone but that did little to loosen the grip around his neck. Icarus tucked his chin in, leaned back, braced his hands, and dropped his weight to throw the other off-balance. His opponent countered with a kick to the bend of his leg and a tightened choke. Icarus gave a cry and was forced to kneel. His vision began to go black. Becoming more desperate with each passing second he risked grabbing for the knife sheathed at his ankle and slashed backwards. That momentarily won him his freedom before his head was promptly smashed into the car's headlight. Stunned, he slumped to the ground. Icarus could feel himself being hauled up and tossed over a shoulder but could do nothing about it. A few steps later and he was unceremoniously dropped into the boot of the Hummer before being tied up and locked in there.

Humiliating.

The rest of the hour -at least that's how long it felt- passed in a blur. Icarus floated between in and out of consciousness. The black pit swallowing him whole made it difficult to discern between the two but the occasional bump in the road (his driver seemed to specifically be swerving for those, the bastard) helped him differentiate. Finally it seemed they'd come to a stop. The trunk was popped open and a sack pulled over his head before he was yanked out and dragged along. He was moved indoors, somewhere below ground level past a labyrinth of doors and corridors. He knew they'd reached their destination when they eventually arrived at a room that stank of moldy air and death. Literally. Whether their were decomposing bodies or a waste bucket in here somewhere he was unsure but the stench was enough to make him gag. It was revolting. Icarus was pushed ahead and forced into a chair before being tied down. The sack was removed. He looked around and counted five angry strangers. Oh shit, when did she get here? Icarus quickly looked away, not wanting his captors to start jumping to conclusions. If they decided to try using her against him then things would get really ugly really fast.

Icarus cleared his throat before speaking in the mother tongue. "Thank you. Now I can look you in the eye before I spit." He did just that, blood and phlegm staining the front of his attire. He missed terribly and was rewarded with a strike to the gut but that was worth it, in his opinion. Another hit, this time from a figure to his side, before the one who'd brought him here spoke up.

"What is your name?"
"Some say I look like a 'Dorian'. I don't see it."
Another hit. He stifled a pained groan.
"Who sent you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." That earned him a meaty hand covering his nose and mouth. He struggled feebly but they didn't let up until tears started streaming down his cheeks.

Oh this was going to be fun.

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

_{Ｄｅａｔｈ ｉｓ ｔｈｅ ｏｎｌｙ ｇｏｄ ｗｈｏ ｃｏｍｅｓ ｗｈｅｎ ｙｏｕ ｃａｌｌ．}

info.

_{• special agent #1863, "Icarus"
• born Sepehr Farshad سپهر فرشاد
• legally dead
• birthed Iran, raised England}

_{punctual, kempt, old-fashioned gentleman •
bronze skin, black hair, grey eyes •
tall, lithe, lean •
speaks 13 languages •}

_{references: x, x}

trivia.

_{• dislikes dogs}

_{listens to lofi music •}

_{• enjoys his coffee obscenely sweet}

_{favorite flower is the wall iris •}

_{• collects old books}

_{rides dressage •}

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

<sub>❝I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.❞

❝I do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, her heirs and successors, according to law. So help me God.❞</sub>

Rebirth

_{"I am literally the last thing standing between you and god so shut the fuck up and be a good patient or I'm giving you a fast pass."}

_{「arlo keyes」 「male」 「thirty-four」 「the doctor」}

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙻 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴

_{‣ ⁝ ꜱ ᴛ ᴀ ᴛ ꜱ ⁝}

_{o c c u p a t i o n Field Medic
r a n k Chief Petty Officer
s p e c i a l t i e s medical treatment and hand-to-hand
y e a r s e n l i s t e d 6 years
c a l l s i g n Ozymandias}

_{‣ ⁝ ғ ɪ ᴇ ʟ ᴅ s ᴏ ғ ᴇ x ᴘ ᴇ ʀ ᴛ ɪ s ᴇ ⁝}

_{p i l o t i n g ☆☆☆☆☆
no formal training
m a r k s m a n s h i p ★★☆☆☆
passed basic training
s t r a t e g i s t ☆☆☆☆☆
no formal training
d e m o l i t i o n ☆☆☆☆☆
no formal training
c h e m i c a l w a r f a r e ☆☆☆☆☆
no formal training
w e a p o n s h a n d l i n g ★★☆☆☆
passed basic training
c l o s e c o m b a t ★★★★☆
passed basic training; educated in advanced self-defense prior to military training
n e g o t i a t i o n ★☆☆☆☆
no formal training; wields a natural talent for deescalation
f i r s t a i d ★★★★★
fully qualified emergency medical technician; knowledgeable in pharmaceutics}

_{‣ ⁝ ʙ ɪ ᴏ⁝}

_{Born on Milshin, Arlo was birthed by an underage mother who left him to be raised by someone more suitable for child-rearing (i.e. his aunt and uncle). He grew up alongside his cousin, Dorian. Arlo originally had no plans to join the army and worked numerous jobs throughout his teenage years, both for pocket money and in an attempt to figure out what he liked. During his second year in college Arlo discovered his love for medicine, health, and anything to do with the human body. Arlo graduated with a PhD in psychology but after a few months of work he decided he wanted more. Following a tentative trial-and-error period, Arlo finally enlisted with the RAS military on his 28th birthday.}

_{‣ ⁝ ᴍ ɪ ꜱ ᴄ ᴇ ʟ ʟ ᴀ ɴ ᴇ ᴏ ᴜ ꜱ⁝}

_{speaks in what can only be described as an archaic West-American dialect with an equally antiquated South-African accent}

_{‣ ⁝ ʀ ᴜ ᴍ ᴏ ʀ s⁝}

_{he's ambidextrous || he once worked as a bouncer and was thrown through a window || he used to be an infamous surgeon back in his home city || he's met numerous celebrities across the galaxy || he's allergic to seafood || he can play the piano || he had a speech impediment || he has a secret piercing || he was once homeless for a month}

_{‣ ⁝ ᴀ ᴘ ᴘ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ ⁝}

_{dark green eyes || brown hair || cleft chin || 5'10" || 183 lbs}

_{references: x, x, x}