"I don't know how you survived that plane crash, but I've never been one to question providence; I'm Atlas, and I aim to keep you alive."
Indie ( Atlas / Fontaine ) RP blog
nsfw; mun & muse 20+
no i am a gross cockroach and no one cna convince me otherwise buT STILL YOU ARE LOVELY and I will gladly share my bread with you
actual footage of me dying
Without hesitation the boy shook his head. He didn’t know where Hesita Chambers was, though he did briefly wonder why there was more then one chamber and why they were all called Hesita. As far as being looked after— it depended on your definition. Jack had clothes on his back and he’d always been fed. He just also had managed to slip away from the lab and run away after they had forced him to be marked on his wrists for his continual strain on their patience.
"I don’t have a home." He finally said. It wasn’t a sad tone. Closer to a factual, impersonal statement. Said as easily as one might say, ‘water is wet’ or ‘grass is green’. He didn’t think of the lab as home. He’d not for a while.
"Can I be here now? If I promise to be good and do what you say?"
Gaze slipping off into the middle distance, Atlas faltered, mouth left hanging open as he fought to construct an appropriate response. At least the bother of sending someone to dump the kid back on his doorstep had been taken care of. What he really didn’t need, however, was the fingers of a needy child clutching at his pant leg at all hours, every day of the damn week. People sure weren’t lying when they said hindsight was 20/20 – life would’ve been much easier for him if he’d just left the weeping bastard to the mercy of the splicers back where he’d found him. That’s where random acts of kindness got you, no matter how fake or forced they happened to be. Saddled with a clingy little burden.
“Not like there’s anywhere else we can keep ya…” he spoke at long last. God, there really were no alternatives to letting the brat stick around. He’d be branded a heartless thug if he dared throw the kid out onto the lawless streets, even worse if he took on the task of getting rid of him on his own.
Inwardly, he swore. Pretty fucking loudly too. Outwardly, all Jack got was another smile.
“Sorry about your home, boyo, but you’re welcome t’stay as long as y’d like. Everyone here would be happy t’have ya.”
"I’m sure he did, pet, but if you’d be so kind as t’wait till you’re in private t’solve your little disputes that’d be grand — that’s a good lass.”
It was almost amusing just how quickly Ronny changed his tune when the position was swapped, now trapped and at Atlas’s mercy with little room to retaliate. As if a switch had been flipped, his attitude towards the other man transformed into something desperate and pathetic. His playing around instead of killing them at the start had left an open window for Atlas to turn things around, which he had taken without hesitation. The former host gasped for air more as those hands around his throat only tighten gradually, or it sure damn well felt like it. The lack of oxygen was only making Ronny panic even worse, struggling about beneath the weight and letting out noises close to whines.
His teeth clench together to fight back another pained noise as his broken hand throbs and aches, making no attempts to move it now. It hurt like hell and without ADAM, he couldn’t recover from it and he wouldn’t get a chance unless the bastard decided to give him mercy. That or he somehow managed to break free and escape before he was killed. The words just made him sneer, obviously not fond of being taunted at all. Ronny tries not to let his anger overwhelm him, because one wrong move could mean his life and he wanted to get free. At whatever cost it was, he needed to.
The splicer frowns as Atlas begins to speak up again, especially at his lack of interest in keeping him alive or using his help. It had been a long shot to begin with, but doing some nasty rat’s bidding wouldn’t be a big deal if he got ADAM and his life in return. From the looks of things, he’d be lucky to get either one. “…I’m not useless. I can help you. Protect you or … or kill for you. I’m good at finding things and getting places quickly! T-think about it, yeah?” His voice is low as he’s struggling to speak between gasps for air and the uncomfortable strangling feeling. It wasn’t so easy to beg for your life when you’re being choked out, but he managed well enough.
Now really. Was a life of servitude honestly worth the breath he was fighting for? Common splicer thug turned Atlas’ personal bootlicker all because he’d gone and made the biggest mistake of his life. A fitting punishment, surely, but if word got out that the man was going soft in his old age then what good would it really be doing him? Practically invited every brute and maniac in this dump of a town to take their chances and should they lose? Simply beg nice and sweet for a scrap of mercy and skip merrily off with their freedom. What were the odds of this one coming back to him even once after his release? It was all an act – it had to be. Creatures like him did nothing but lie through their rotting, yellow teeth. Anything said to have them wriggle out like worms from beneath a bird’s claw, get them closer to their next hit. The only kind of mercy Atlas could see himself giving the poor bastard was the courtesy of snapping his neck before he thought up a far more delightful way of making him pay for his crimes.
“That’s a fine proposition you’re makin’ an’ all, but how do I know vermin like you’s gonna stick to it?” Upper lip curling, he eased his grip a fraction, enough to let the man speak and little else. Lucky to be getting that much, to tell you the truth.
“An’ y’look pretty useless from where I’m sittin’, brother, I’m awfully sorry t’say. How ‘bout I make this quick an’ put you out of yer misery once an’ for all, would y’like that? Bloke like you must be pretty feckin’ suicidal t’go after me an’ think he’d come out on top – don’t that jus’ sound crazy t’you?”
"Probably, aye — but you’re goin’ t’have t’be more specific about which her you’re talkin’ about, love.”