title: interrupting
fandom: starfighter
subject: cain
word count: 567
rating: R
warnings: adult language
notes: ( ಠ‸◢) haters gonna hate
097. interrupting
"You might be the best fighter on the station, Cain.. but you're still a piece of shit!"
Praxis' accusation stings the way no other physical force in this fight has before, and though he may be handicapped with the loss of eyesight on his left periphery, he's so far proven himself to be a worthy opponent.
There's blood in Cain's mouth; he can't tell where it came from, either his nose or his lips - he doesn't fucking care. The mere idea that someone could make him bleed... he slides his hand down to the outside of his left boot and draws out a pocketknife, small but gleaming with cruel intentions.
He doesn't feel pain even though it's still hard to breathe from having the wind forcibly knocked out of him. Cain lunges, the knifes blade pointedly aimed at the fighter in front of him. He grits his teeth when the initial swipe misses. So close!
gut him.. gut him.. GUT HIM!
The anger is primeval - threaten or be threaten, kill or be killed. It doesn't matter that Praxis is a brother, another fighter enlisted to serve under the same alliance's cause, Cain just wants him dead.. or damn near close to.
"I'm going to cut your other eye out Praxis!" he snarls it like a promise.
And just as he's about to try again, the alarm sounds. Every level of starbase is rigged with intercom systems set to go off in case of an emergency. Red alerts are the most serious and no matter what a soldier may be doing at the time of the first alert call out, they are responsible for responding immediately.. if able.
"Che.." Cain glares at the l.e.d. lighting as it flashes along the edge of the nearest exit leading to the launch hanger. He doesn't have time for this, he was so fucking close!
Instead of following his baser instincts and ignoring the call in favor of maiming the man before him, Cain quickly hunches back down and replaces the knife along the loosened fabric inside his boot. This will have to wait till later.
Both Cain and Praxis respond to the call despite the fact that the one-eyed fighter is still technically exempt due to recent injury. Neither says a word while running down the long hallways leading to their ships. Tensions remain high, but only for personal vindications that must be put on hold until after the latest threat of enemy attacks are dealt with. Cain sucks any remaining blood from the wound in his mouth to the back of his throat and spits it out contemptuously at Praxis' feet. He receives a glare for this action, but it's never been in his nature to feel the least bit apologetic for any terrible deed he's ever committed.
They separate as they rush into the final air lock, Praxis grabs a helmet and moves into the next room while Cain has to take a moment to discard his civilian clothing before zipping himself into an emergency plugsuit. As he slides his arm into the vinyl like material of the suit, he can't help but think about how good it's going to feel when he can finally settle their little dispute.
But there's no telling whether or not Praxis' new found disability won't be the thing that kills him in battle first.. Cain can only hope for his sake.