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ajremixTitle: Roll the Bones: Nothing
Fandom: Skip Tracers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 655
Characters: Balt
In Response to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
oc_speedfic’s falling challenge
Summary: Set two years before the series starts.
Balt doesn’t really know when he regains consciousness- only knows he’s conscious in the vague way he can recognize being cognitive. He was aware in stages. Probably the first he’s aware of is that he can’t feel his fingers which leads to an awareness that his arms are bound awkwardly behind his back from elbow to wrist. After sometime (or immediately after, he might’ve lost track of cognition briefly) he’s simultaneously aware of the taste of blood in the back of his throat and the inability to breathe out of his nose.
His legs are cramping. Sharp pain prickles all the way up to his brain as he shifts. Or tries to. He’s crouched over his knees and it’s too cramped to move. When he shifts back on his heels Balt can feel something solid pressing against his shoulders and back, the same as he twists side to side. There’s no light to see by and when Balt lowers his head back down to the ground he can feel only the slightest movement of air. So obviously they want him alive if not just for a little longer. Try as he might Balt can’t hear anything or see anything.
Sensory depravation. He’s been in something like this before when he was being trained in case he ever became captured. Balt hadn’t known they had the technology to create something like this. He think either he was out long enough for them to build it or they were planning his capture for some time. That brings up other questions.
How did they even know? Balt had been careful with what he’s said and what he’s done. Anything he’s written down documenting what he’s observed with the guerillas and the village is done in a pictographic language that’s been dead for 200 years. The chances of any of them knowing it is fairly impossible. Even after his initial report, before he had even moved to this current village, Balt has spent three months establishing a routine before he attempted any other communication with the outside world and all the transmissions he’s made were no more than 8 seconds long. None of the operatives knew each other so there was no chance one of them could have named him.
The muscles in Balt’s neck are getting sore as he tries to keep the blood from rushing to his head. He doesn’t know when he realizes it- in the darkness seconds are eternities and even heartbeats are years between –but the only sound he knows is that of his own rasping breathing and pained groans as he shifts on legs gone numb. In due time even those turn to white noise that disappear into his head. As he lowers his head the sudden sensation of falling comes over him.
He panics- had he blacked out? Had they decided he was needless and threw him from the gorge? How long had he been falling before he realized? –his body jerks in alarm and needles explode along his legs and the falling abruptly stops. Heart pounding, Balt’s head swings from side to side, trying to see something- anything –but only finding that same unbroken darkness. It was his imagination, he realizes. Sensory depravation in extended periods can result in anxiety, hallucinations, depression- he just imagined that he was falling.
Right. It wasn’t actually anything. I haven’t moved.
Balt’s breathing halts for a moment as he realizes he said that out loud. “Hey.” He says into the emptiness. His voice is faraway and weaker than he recalled. “Hey.” He says again, desperation starting to well up out of his panic. “Hey! Let me out! Let me out of here!” His tongue is thick and trips over his words and between his teeth and Balt doesn’t know if those words were even intelligible or if he had even said them in the right language.
“Let me out.” He tells the walls hoarsely. “Someone.”
Fandom: Skip Tracers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 655
Characters: Balt
In Response to:
oc_speedfic’s falling challengeSummary: Set two years before the series starts.
Balt doesn’t really know when he regains consciousness- only knows he’s conscious in the vague way he can recognize being cognitive. He was aware in stages. Probably the first he’s aware of is that he can’t feel his fingers which leads to an awareness that his arms are bound awkwardly behind his back from elbow to wrist. After sometime (or immediately after, he might’ve lost track of cognition briefly) he’s simultaneously aware of the taste of blood in the back of his throat and the inability to breathe out of his nose.
His legs are cramping. Sharp pain prickles all the way up to his brain as he shifts. Or tries to. He’s crouched over his knees and it’s too cramped to move. When he shifts back on his heels Balt can feel something solid pressing against his shoulders and back, the same as he twists side to side. There’s no light to see by and when Balt lowers his head back down to the ground he can feel only the slightest movement of air. So obviously they want him alive if not just for a little longer. Try as he might Balt can’t hear anything or see anything.
Sensory depravation. He’s been in something like this before when he was being trained in case he ever became captured. Balt hadn’t known they had the technology to create something like this. He think either he was out long enough for them to build it or they were planning his capture for some time. That brings up other questions.
How did they even know? Balt had been careful with what he’s said and what he’s done. Anything he’s written down documenting what he’s observed with the guerillas and the village is done in a pictographic language that’s been dead for 200 years. The chances of any of them knowing it is fairly impossible. Even after his initial report, before he had even moved to this current village, Balt has spent three months establishing a routine before he attempted any other communication with the outside world and all the transmissions he’s made were no more than 8 seconds long. None of the operatives knew each other so there was no chance one of them could have named him.
The muscles in Balt’s neck are getting sore as he tries to keep the blood from rushing to his head. He doesn’t know when he realizes it- in the darkness seconds are eternities and even heartbeats are years between –but the only sound he knows is that of his own rasping breathing and pained groans as he shifts on legs gone numb. In due time even those turn to white noise that disappear into his head. As he lowers his head the sudden sensation of falling comes over him.
He panics- had he blacked out? Had they decided he was needless and threw him from the gorge? How long had he been falling before he realized? –his body jerks in alarm and needles explode along his legs and the falling abruptly stops. Heart pounding, Balt’s head swings from side to side, trying to see something- anything –but only finding that same unbroken darkness. It was his imagination, he realizes. Sensory depravation in extended periods can result in anxiety, hallucinations, depression- he just imagined that he was falling.
Right. It wasn’t actually anything. I haven’t moved.
Balt’s breathing halts for a moment as he realizes he said that out loud. “Hey.” He says into the emptiness. His voice is faraway and weaker than he recalled. “Hey.” He says again, desperation starting to well up out of his panic. “Hey! Let me out! Let me out of here!” His tongue is thick and trips over his words and between his teeth and Balt doesn’t know if those words were even intelligible or if he had even said them in the right language.
“Let me out.” He tells the walls hoarsely. “Someone.”
