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softly-mossy · 5 years

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OCtober day uhh 6. max is a sour sport about getting her ass handed to her. kinda-continuation from @roosting-n-writing‘s piece for ‘dance’

“She was at least kinda nice the first time around,” Max mutters. “So much for first impressions being accurate.”

Trouvaille heaves a worn-out sigh in agreement.

Hush glares daggers at a rock on the ground, hand to her head.

Max is still battered from their encounter earlier that day. Her cheek is blistered from where her rifle backfired (not that she blamed the rifle--why was she taking the rifle into account anyways? That...girl jammed it, that’s what went wrong). Her temple throbs from being clocked out by a coordinated fist. The rest of her just aches. Her ribs hurt when she breathes, her arms shake from fatigue, her legs trembled when she tried to stand.

So she sat.

She had managed to worm her way out from the Tenno’s capture, somehow. She wasn’t going to question how or what deity smiled down upon her for it to happen. An opening happened, she took it, and ran like hell.

Is Max mad she was beaten so easily? Is her dignity cracked, her self-esteem dampened? Yes; by the Queens yes, she is bitter! Once again her tiny stature works against her!

Is that all she was bitter about? Hell, no.

Max is more furious about what happened to Hush and Trouvaille.

Hush still delicately holds a hand to the crushed part of her head, still spitting fits of sparks occasionally. A few little cuts and nicks are visible on her arms and torso, though only one was particularly worrying. Something they’d have to get to a Relay to fix, since the Grineer didn’t have the knowledge nor the technology to repair a Warframe. Relays are typically chock-full of those willing to help.

Trouvaille sits gingerly, keeping any weight or pressure off his side from where he’d been kicked. His breaths are shallow and labored, but he remains diligently on guard. Max didn’t doubt that he’d still go into action if they were threatened.

Still, she fumes.

Oh, she’s in for it, she knows it. The first encounter, she at least got away unscathed and with the data they needed. This time, she had nothing but a sore body, a battered kubrow, and a sparking Warframe to prove anything had happened. Perfect opportunity for the other Hounds to finally unleash all the pent-up teasing and sneers they’d been holding back. Hell, Zus himself was probably going to give her a stern talking-to.

“Maxis?” Her communications link crackles.

Maybe if I don’t respond they’ll think I’m dead or something, and will leave me be, she glowers.

As if reading her mind, the voice continues. “I know you’re still kicking, kid. Don’t play the silent treatment with me.” It’s Dodge, thankfully. “But I can also tell you’ve taken a beating. Is it anything serious that requires attention before we can get to you?”

“Ah, no,” Max sighs. “Nothin’ too serious, I guess.”

“You’re not exactly being reassuring. What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? What a question, Dodge. “Lots.”

“We’re on our way to you three as we speak.” He pauses. “You’re expecting to get chewed out for failing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs.

“Don’t be. Zus will understand; you going into something with that ‘frame and dog is different than us heading in with a whole squad. He won’t berate you. Will he fret? Hell yes. But no judgement.”

The heavy weight on Max’s shoulders lifts a little. She heaves a sigh of relief. “But...what about--?”

“If any of the other Hounds, or any Grineer in general, give you hassle for your origins, they’ll have some answering to do. Zus, Buffy, the other Hounds, and myself included. You are not a dragging weight to this squad. You are a team member. Get that through your thick skull.” Dodge’s voice is stern, but fatherly. “Be there shortly. Don’t eat away at yourself while you wait.”

The link cuts.

#maxis #some writin #october

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