Discovered in Temptation
Mar. 9th, 2007 10:06 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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discoveredinaljAvarice and lust to apostrophise this episode of our journey.
Contrary Virtue
Part Eight
It had been a small town of antique beauty.
Now it was a bizarre hybrid, the quaint old houses, shops and fountains maimed by explosive destruction, the new buildings temporary, ugly and utilitarian, designed for defensibility.
Survivors went about their daily lives with stoic determination.
The petroleum companies' crews appeared blatantly aware of their supreme station at the top of the food chain.
Villains of all varieties wore their weapons openly in the daylight.
The place was very much the worse for war wear, having deteriorated even over the span of mere weeks.
Bodie grimaced. He was plagued by doubts. Getting out of the country, then away from the continent would have been comparatively easy for him, travelling solo. Safely decamping with RD wouldn't be so simple.
The place was crowded and chaotic. People from remote areas, uprooted by the turmoil, had gathered near the ports, seeking shelter, solace, supplies. Many wished to flee the place altogether.
It was a jostling, antagonistic setting. RD responded with a tense posture and a toxic visage. Bodie would have confiscated his weapons for his own benefit, but the proximate danger was far too great for that.
"Easy, mate. Stand down," Bodie repeatedly muttered in his ear. Occasionally he slung an arm over his shoulder, massaging the bunched muscles. "You and me, we can take on any of this lot, anytime. They're not likely to tangle with us. Much easier pickings about, see?"
The martial stance was all very well, out in the roadway. But eventually they'd have to act the part of tame, civilised young gentlemen. If that had ever been a part of RD's repertoire, likely the persona was pulverized to irreconcilable fragments in his current consciousness.
"Hmm. Tell you what. Think of that little bloke we just met. The mongoose sentry, remember him? He's trying to impress the ladies that he's parlour material. Playing with the toddlers, jouncing of infants on his knee, taking an interest in knitting socks and crocheted doilies, that sort of image. Think mongooses."
A small smile tugged at the corner of RD's lips.
"Tha's it. Now you won't mind a bit if I nudge you in the ribs to remind you, time to time, right?"
RD patted Bodie comfortingly on his forearm, just above a clenched fist.
Startled, Bodie consciously relaxed his own defensive posture. He chuckled. "Time for a change of pace. Been watching each other's backs. This while, we'll have to watch each other's fronts as well."
He winked, and RD nodded acknowledgment.
Bodie was pleasantly surprised to discover near the centre of town, a steamer line with its booking office open for business. It was hunkered down in the sole remaining corner of a warehouse. A couple of thin walls of iron plate had been added to form a sort of room with a mostly intact patchwork roof. A painted sign, rescued from the ruins of the former office and nailed in place over a gaping hole in the front of the establishment, served double duty, keeping out most of the windblown sand, and identifying the proprietor.
He was a mousy, balding, middle-aged man. Dressed like an accountant, he nevertheless had a pistol butt visible under the edge of his waistcoat.
"There's no currency kept on the premises, nor fuel, nor food," he declared prosaically as they entered the place. "No valuables at all."
"Good afternoon," Bodie nodded politely. "We'd like to purchase passage for two."
"Destination?"
"Ultimately, England. But we'll settle for anywhere your ship's bound, if there's a likely connection home at the other end."
"Company policy is, women and children have priority. Even if you've paid for passage, you may be displaced at the last minute in favour of late arrivals."
Bodie contemplated this additional insecurity before nodding agreement. "Understood."
"All transactions are on a cash-only basis. European or American currency is acceptable. Domestic is not."
"That shouldn't prove a problem."
The proprietor licked his lips as if suddenly coming in view of a grand meal.
"Valid passports to be presented at time of ticket purchase."
"Ah." Bodie patted his pockets doubtfully. "We haven't got them on us at the moment. Fearing highway robbery, you understand, sir."
"Oh, what a pity. I have exactly two tickets left, with the ferry leaving for the ship this very evening. And the next departure occurring who-knows-when?"
The mousy man squinted avariciously at Bodie.
Bodie reached into the riveted jeans pocket snugged over his hip and drew out a coin between two fingers. He dropped it onto the desk top with a bell-like ringing clink.
It twirled symmetrically before it settled. The golden glitter of the Krugerrand shone seductively.
"Sir," Bodie continued in melted toffee tones. "In honour of your bravery for remaining at this dangerous last outpost of civilisation, a small token. We would take it most kindly if you would sell us our tickets now. And we'll certainly have our documents about us when we embark this evening."
The bit of tawny gold disappeared in a twinkling.
Contrary to reasonable expectation, the clerk, having accepted the bribe, now became more difficult. His suddenly harsh tones were all business as he mentioned classes of berths, the cost thereof. It seemed as if the witnesses of his sin were now held at arms length with just a hint of loathing, as if they alone were responsible for his immorality.
Bodie could tell by the man's shifting eyes that he was formulating the ticket costs as he went along in the negotiation, gauging to the nicest degree just how desperate the younger men were, how much he could squeeze from his customers and skim off the top to keep for himself. In this setting, it was to be expected. Disaster situations brought out the worst in some basically opportunistic people. On this fellow, the glossy veneer of civilisation had rubbed away fairly easily, leaving a core of dross revealed.
They concluded the deal. The tickets Bodie accepted were no more than receipts with the man's signature, jotted on a water stained sheet of company letterhead in a strangely precise script, the last vestige, perhaps, of the man's prior proper personage.
"Mind you have current legal passports ready at embarkation. Be forewarned, it's nothing to do with our Company. The local authorities will arrest you in the act of fraudulent identification, and our Captain will cooperate fully. Bribery won't work, since they have only to take you into custody and confiscate your possessions before effecting your permanent disappearance."
Bodie resisted sneering at the man, who appeared to be grasping at a mere comparative virtue, the triviality of his personal vice, in contrast to the monstrous evil of others he'd mentioned.
RD, however, appeared to be contemplating seizure and sound cudgelling of the clerk.
Bodie grabbed his mate by the arm and dragged him out into the cleansing beams of sunshine.
He shook his head affectionately, gazing into RD's fiery countenance. "Lord love us, what an avenging angel of doom you look. Just like one of the Thrones, attacking injustice, tearing at it with both hands."
RD bit his lip apologetically and hung his head.
Bodie patted him on his imperfect cheek. "Makes me wonder what you were before this. Maybe not a soldier, hey?"
RD swallowed convulsively, the spasms of his throat generating a rasp and a click. "K-, k-, k-," he sounded out a papery dry noise. "Cop."
Bodie's eyes popped open wide at the revelation. His head canted in assessment. "Adds up. Skilled fighter, wicked sense of righteous indignation, possessed of a soft centre, hidden in the depths."
He left his hand clenched around a tense triceps, though the grip had taken on an aspect of encouragement and support.
As they resumed walking, Bodie muttered in an undertone. "If such a vermiform turd as that last feller has developed canine teeth, I hate to think what our next one'll be like. The documents expert I mentioned, remember? Since he's always been a nasty wad of snot, since his natal day. Well, we shall just brace ourselves for the worst, eh? Clearly, we can't proceed without our exit papers in order."
RD stopped suddenly to confront him. He tapped Bodie on the chest, repeatedly, emphatically.
"What, what? Me alone do you mean? Leave without you? Naw. Where'd be the fun in that?'
RD pouted while petting Bodie's shoulders solicitously.
"It'll sort out okay. Just take events in turn, and we'll deal with them, you and me."
Bodie directed their steps away from the town and into a remote patch of forest that grew denser and darker as they proceeded into it. The building, when they came across it, was an odd sight.
It had been, in its distant past, a church.
The structure itself seemed mysteriously well preserved, as if enshrouded in a field of invulnerability. The only evidence of conflict was a fallen crucifix, tumbled to rest head down in the soil. It was one of those garishly painted primitive symbols that depicted an abundance of thorn-pierced bloody flesh and agonized anatomical contortions. And some mocking human hand had planted lilies around the crown-turned-base, as if to imply the intentional posture of the piece.
As the two men approached cautiously, the solid door to the edifice was flung open with a loud clash.
An exceedingly tall, narrow being emerged, like a trail of smoke issuing off a funeral pyre.
"Beauteous Bodie, darling!" It exclaimed in an ill-mated alto tremolo, before leaning down to insinuate its syrupy tongue into Bodie's ear.
Before a reply could be formed, the entity exclaimed further. "And what lovely tidbit have you brought me? Gifts upon the altar, in exchange for unimaginable favours to be rendered. I can scarcely contain myself already."
Bodie cast a corner-eyed glimpse aside. RD's murderous glare was all he'd anticipated, with rapid escalation to imminent explosive force.
Bodie murmured to himself. "The Angel of the Throne encounters Mammon over Tea. All of us, mere mortals, should seek cover at once."
Alas, he thought it unlikely he'd have the opportunity to follow his own sound advice.
Title: Contrary Virtue
Author: asymphototropic [attracted toward the light but never quite arrives]
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, the author does not own "The Professionals"
Contrary Virtue
Part Eight
It had been a small town of antique beauty.
Now it was a bizarre hybrid, the quaint old houses, shops and fountains maimed by explosive destruction, the new buildings temporary, ugly and utilitarian, designed for defensibility.
Survivors went about their daily lives with stoic determination.
The petroleum companies' crews appeared blatantly aware of their supreme station at the top of the food chain.
Villains of all varieties wore their weapons openly in the daylight.
The place was very much the worse for war wear, having deteriorated even over the span of mere weeks.
Bodie grimaced. He was plagued by doubts. Getting out of the country, then away from the continent would have been comparatively easy for him, travelling solo. Safely decamping with RD wouldn't be so simple.
The place was crowded and chaotic. People from remote areas, uprooted by the turmoil, had gathered near the ports, seeking shelter, solace, supplies. Many wished to flee the place altogether.
It was a jostling, antagonistic setting. RD responded with a tense posture and a toxic visage. Bodie would have confiscated his weapons for his own benefit, but the proximate danger was far too great for that.
"Easy, mate. Stand down," Bodie repeatedly muttered in his ear. Occasionally he slung an arm over his shoulder, massaging the bunched muscles. "You and me, we can take on any of this lot, anytime. They're not likely to tangle with us. Much easier pickings about, see?"
The martial stance was all very well, out in the roadway. But eventually they'd have to act the part of tame, civilised young gentlemen. If that had ever been a part of RD's repertoire, likely the persona was pulverized to irreconcilable fragments in his current consciousness.
"Hmm. Tell you what. Think of that little bloke we just met. The mongoose sentry, remember him? He's trying to impress the ladies that he's parlour material. Playing with the toddlers, jouncing of infants on his knee, taking an interest in knitting socks and crocheted doilies, that sort of image. Think mongooses."
A small smile tugged at the corner of RD's lips.
"Tha's it. Now you won't mind a bit if I nudge you in the ribs to remind you, time to time, right?"
RD patted Bodie comfortingly on his forearm, just above a clenched fist.
Startled, Bodie consciously relaxed his own defensive posture. He chuckled. "Time for a change of pace. Been watching each other's backs. This while, we'll have to watch each other's fronts as well."
He winked, and RD nodded acknowledgment.
Bodie was pleasantly surprised to discover near the centre of town, a steamer line with its booking office open for business. It was hunkered down in the sole remaining corner of a warehouse. A couple of thin walls of iron plate had been added to form a sort of room with a mostly intact patchwork roof. A painted sign, rescued from the ruins of the former office and nailed in place over a gaping hole in the front of the establishment, served double duty, keeping out most of the windblown sand, and identifying the proprietor.
He was a mousy, balding, middle-aged man. Dressed like an accountant, he nevertheless had a pistol butt visible under the edge of his waistcoat.
"There's no currency kept on the premises, nor fuel, nor food," he declared prosaically as they entered the place. "No valuables at all."
"Good afternoon," Bodie nodded politely. "We'd like to purchase passage for two."
"Destination?"
"Ultimately, England. But we'll settle for anywhere your ship's bound, if there's a likely connection home at the other end."
"Company policy is, women and children have priority. Even if you've paid for passage, you may be displaced at the last minute in favour of late arrivals."
Bodie contemplated this additional insecurity before nodding agreement. "Understood."
"All transactions are on a cash-only basis. European or American currency is acceptable. Domestic is not."
"That shouldn't prove a problem."
The proprietor licked his lips as if suddenly coming in view of a grand meal.
"Valid passports to be presented at time of ticket purchase."
"Ah." Bodie patted his pockets doubtfully. "We haven't got them on us at the moment. Fearing highway robbery, you understand, sir."
"Oh, what a pity. I have exactly two tickets left, with the ferry leaving for the ship this very evening. And the next departure occurring who-knows-when?"
The mousy man squinted avariciously at Bodie.
Bodie reached into the riveted jeans pocket snugged over his hip and drew out a coin between two fingers. He dropped it onto the desk top with a bell-like ringing clink.
It twirled symmetrically before it settled. The golden glitter of the Krugerrand shone seductively.
"Sir," Bodie continued in melted toffee tones. "In honour of your bravery for remaining at this dangerous last outpost of civilisation, a small token. We would take it most kindly if you would sell us our tickets now. And we'll certainly have our documents about us when we embark this evening."
The bit of tawny gold disappeared in a twinkling.
Contrary to reasonable expectation, the clerk, having accepted the bribe, now became more difficult. His suddenly harsh tones were all business as he mentioned classes of berths, the cost thereof. It seemed as if the witnesses of his sin were now held at arms length with just a hint of loathing, as if they alone were responsible for his immorality.
Bodie could tell by the man's shifting eyes that he was formulating the ticket costs as he went along in the negotiation, gauging to the nicest degree just how desperate the younger men were, how much he could squeeze from his customers and skim off the top to keep for himself. In this setting, it was to be expected. Disaster situations brought out the worst in some basically opportunistic people. On this fellow, the glossy veneer of civilisation had rubbed away fairly easily, leaving a core of dross revealed.
They concluded the deal. The tickets Bodie accepted were no more than receipts with the man's signature, jotted on a water stained sheet of company letterhead in a strangely precise script, the last vestige, perhaps, of the man's prior proper personage.
"Mind you have current legal passports ready at embarkation. Be forewarned, it's nothing to do with our Company. The local authorities will arrest you in the act of fraudulent identification, and our Captain will cooperate fully. Bribery won't work, since they have only to take you into custody and confiscate your possessions before effecting your permanent disappearance."
Bodie resisted sneering at the man, who appeared to be grasping at a mere comparative virtue, the triviality of his personal vice, in contrast to the monstrous evil of others he'd mentioned.
RD, however, appeared to be contemplating seizure and sound cudgelling of the clerk.
Bodie grabbed his mate by the arm and dragged him out into the cleansing beams of sunshine.
He shook his head affectionately, gazing into RD's fiery countenance. "Lord love us, what an avenging angel of doom you look. Just like one of the Thrones, attacking injustice, tearing at it with both hands."
RD bit his lip apologetically and hung his head.
Bodie patted him on his imperfect cheek. "Makes me wonder what you were before this. Maybe not a soldier, hey?"
RD swallowed convulsively, the spasms of his throat generating a rasp and a click. "K-, k-, k-," he sounded out a papery dry noise. "Cop."
Bodie's eyes popped open wide at the revelation. His head canted in assessment. "Adds up. Skilled fighter, wicked sense of righteous indignation, possessed of a soft centre, hidden in the depths."
He left his hand clenched around a tense triceps, though the grip had taken on an aspect of encouragement and support.
As they resumed walking, Bodie muttered in an undertone. "If such a vermiform turd as that last feller has developed canine teeth, I hate to think what our next one'll be like. The documents expert I mentioned, remember? Since he's always been a nasty wad of snot, since his natal day. Well, we shall just brace ourselves for the worst, eh? Clearly, we can't proceed without our exit papers in order."
RD stopped suddenly to confront him. He tapped Bodie on the chest, repeatedly, emphatically.
"What, what? Me alone do you mean? Leave without you? Naw. Where'd be the fun in that?'
RD pouted while petting Bodie's shoulders solicitously.
"It'll sort out okay. Just take events in turn, and we'll deal with them, you and me."
Bodie directed their steps away from the town and into a remote patch of forest that grew denser and darker as they proceeded into it. The building, when they came across it, was an odd sight.
It had been, in its distant past, a church.
The structure itself seemed mysteriously well preserved, as if enshrouded in a field of invulnerability. The only evidence of conflict was a fallen crucifix, tumbled to rest head down in the soil. It was one of those garishly painted primitive symbols that depicted an abundance of thorn-pierced bloody flesh and agonized anatomical contortions. And some mocking human hand had planted lilies around the crown-turned-base, as if to imply the intentional posture of the piece.
As the two men approached cautiously, the solid door to the edifice was flung open with a loud clash.
An exceedingly tall, narrow being emerged, like a trail of smoke issuing off a funeral pyre.
"Beauteous Bodie, darling!" It exclaimed in an ill-mated alto tremolo, before leaning down to insinuate its syrupy tongue into Bodie's ear.
Before a reply could be formed, the entity exclaimed further. "And what lovely tidbit have you brought me? Gifts upon the altar, in exchange for unimaginable favours to be rendered. I can scarcely contain myself already."
Bodie cast a corner-eyed glimpse aside. RD's murderous glare was all he'd anticipated, with rapid escalation to imminent explosive force.
Bodie murmured to himself. "The Angel of the Throne encounters Mammon over Tea. All of us, mere mortals, should seek cover at once."
Alas, he thought it unlikely he'd have the opportunity to follow his own sound advice.
Title: Contrary Virtue
Author: asymphototropic [attracted toward the light but never quite arrives]
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, the author does not own "The Professionals"
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no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 05:28 pm (UTC)And he said another word! Yay! *claps excitedly*
I can't wait to read more!
no subject
Date: 2007-03-10 09:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-11 03:38 am (UTC)Oh, and I tagged you for the "five favorite fics" meme. You can see what it's about at my lj here: http://myrebelcat.livejournal.com/
no subject
Date: 2007-03-10 02:22 am (UTC)Thanks so much too for including the meerkats/suricates in your tale. I've been huge fans of them ever since I saw a nature documentary where one poor meerkat was mortally wounded in a battle with some other creature and two of his mates stayed behind after the colony had moved on, so the little guy wouldn't die alone. It broke my heart.
Which you better not do with this story! ;-)
Thank you. Write more soon. Please.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-10 09:59 pm (UTC)Thanks for the kind comment.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-10 08:30 am (UTC)I'm just loving this..
no subject
Date: 2007-03-10 10:04 pm (UTC)Glad you're enjoying the ficcage. Thanks for the lovely reply.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-10 11:08 pm (UTC)Hmm, back to civilization? I just loved this description. And RD pouting and petting and tapping .. "Skilled fighter, wicked sense of righteous indignation, possessed of a soft centre, hidden in the depths." Yup, nailed him, you and Willem both.
Loving it.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-11 02:35 am (UTC)RD has concern for his Bodie as a first priority.
And Sweet Willem has taken on the pleasure of RD's company for the long haul, too. Discovering gradually the full identity of his mate is the pleasure of the mystery. And we still have to consider how the heck RD got displaced from England to Africa.
[rubs hands gleefully. should be interesting, what?]
no subject
Date: 2007-03-11 04:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-11 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-12 12:33 am (UTC)