[fic]Balloons 8
Oct. 17th, 2010 08:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keTitle: Balloons
Rating: none
Pairings: 39, past Sanzo/Koumyou
Genre: AU WAFF
Wordcount: 50k, total.
Warnings: Koumyou is dead. Also, before the pairings squick you out, for the purposes of this fic Koumyou was never Sanzo's father figure. Might contain wacky adventures.
Summary: Sanzo hates the park, Hakkai, Gojyo, people and the world. He likes his OCD and his job as a professional Internet troll. He likes his unapologetic, rampant atheism. The universe sets out to prove him wrong.
Author's Note: Very loosely based on the (awesome and amazing) movie Up! This is actually a “light” version of the bunny – the original explored the pitfalls of reincarnation and crushed your soul.
The story is finished and will be posted whole over the next three weeks, maybe a little more (there is sixteen chapters, total). Doing it like this, because a/ I need a pick-me-up right now, and b/ have internet issues, posting the whole thing in one go would be a pain, c/ I figure this will make reading easier for you. So, enjoy!
Betaed bykispexi2, who graciously stepped in to help. <3 Thank you, hun!
The balloon was vividly orange. Sanzo, if he arched his back, could see its brightness against the blue sky, and it was a sight to behold. The few clouds that littered the sky were far in the distance, awkward little sheep on the azure pasture.
“That’s just great,” Sanzo said, sinking to join Hakkai on the bottom of the basket.
“It’s not so bad. The view is fantastic.” Gojyo grinned at them both. “Seriously, I understand Hakkai, but the hell you are doing down there?”
Sanzo said nothing. The truth was that he, too, had altophobia; he just hid it better than Hakkai. He hated planes, hated anything that flew. How that squared with to his frequent skydiving expeditions, he wasn’t sure. He had been very vocal when the idea had first been brought to his attention and it had been only Gojyo’s mindless tenacity that ensured that he had made the leap. It had clicked, to his surprise, he’d been weightless and free for a few minutes, after being weighed down by the world every minute of every day, so it’d seemed only sensible to repeat the experience.
Hakkai exchanged a couple of words with their unfortunate pilot, reporting his findings in a very brief and telling “We’re not landing till we’re landing.”
“That makes sense. I wouldn’t wanna land before we land. It could hurt and we’re fresh outta chutes.” Gojyo leaned against the edge of the basket and grinned at the open flame overhead. “Hey, what is the kid doing?” he asked suddenly, with such a tone of panic in his voice that Sanzo followed his gaze before he could think about it.
It didn’t seem fair that his heart stopped when he saw Goku perched comfortably on the edge of the gondola with his feet hanging over the side. The red balloon was hovering overhead, swaying gently in the breeze, and Goku was beaming at it, as though it was telling him secrets. Dug was standing on his hind legs at Goku’s side, tongue lolling out and paws on the rim. It seemed like hours, to Sanzo, the five seconds it took Gojyo to cross the gondola, wrap his arms around Goku’s midsection and pull him inside.
“Hey, what gives!”
“Are you trying to get yourself kicked off the ride?”
“I was just sitting!”
“Did you not get the memo? We are airborne!”
Goku turned his enormous eyes onto Gojyo, setting Sanzo’s blood on fire because Gojyo’s arms were still around him. “I thought we might be, yeah.”
“What the hell possessed you to do that, then?” Gojyo asked, finally, at long fucking last, letting go.
“I don’t mind heights.”
“You don’t see heights.”
“I didn’t mind heights even when I could see.”
“That’s no reason to risk your life like that,” Hakkai said, using his gently admonishing tone that had the effect of turning a sane man into a contrary monster in under three minutes.
Goku looked down. “Sorry. I didn’t think it was all that dangerous.” Of course, Sanzo mused, Goku was the exception to a great many human rules. The notion of him having otherworldly origins was swiftly moving out of the land of theory and into the realms of certainty.
“Where are we going?” Goku asked meanwhile, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. The balloon Sanzo had given him still bobbed about his head, like a fiery red halo.
“We don’t really know. There is a projected landing site, but that’s about all I know. Of course it all depends on the winds and minute weather changes.” Hakkai kept his eyes closed as he said this, which made him seem snide and disinterested, which he wasn’t at the time. The tricky thing about Hakkai, however, was that this was his disposition a lot of the time – his plastic smile disguised the sneering well enough, but Sanzo, while hopeless at interaction, knew a thing or two about reading people, particularly people he knew well.
It was odd how his skill failed so utterly with Goku. Either there was some serious acting skill at work there, or he was a genuinely simple and kind person. Sanzo kept expecting evidence to back up the former, because the latter seemed too weird. How does one live to see (allegedly) twenty-six, become blind and not jaded, even a little, Sanzo wondered.
Then, unexpectedly, a surprising thought occured to Sanzo: he’d met in his life very few people who weren’t politicians or children or spouses of politicians. It might just be that there was a whole world of decent, honest people that had just passed him by while he sneered at the hypocrisy and mendacity of everyone in his social circle.
Koumyou had been honest, in his own peculiar way, but Sanzo attributed it to his general all-around weirdness. The guy had eaten Marmite by the spoonful, for fuck’s sake.
Sanzo’s wandering eyes trailed onto Gojyo, and he had to snort. Gojyo was, and Sanzo would shoot himself for saying this out loud, a blessing, a fact made all the more poignant by Koumyou’s death. He was a good bloke, an all-around decent guy, who burped and was inappropriate and wasn’t scared to tell Sanzo he was being a dick and a moron. He was also the first member of the working class Sanzo referred to by his first name, which had to count for something.
Sanzo came out of his reverie to yet another lungful of dog breath. Dug’s eyes were boring into him with serious questions like “where is my treat?” and “don’t you have treats for me?” written in them in block capitals.
“Is this going to be a common occurrence?” Sanzo asked no one in particular, trying to edge away from the dog and finding Hakkai in his way. “Because in that case Dug needs to brush his teeth.”
“Aww, someone has a new friend!”
“You -- can it.”
“What? What’s going on?” Goku asked plopping down to sit beside his dog.
“Dug smelled smoke, so naturally he came to see if Sanzo’s head wasn’t overheating. ‘cause of all the thinking,” Gojyo said.
“Sanzo’s thinking?” Goku asked, and he sounded so innocently amused Sanzo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He settled for getting indignant.
“Just because you never do it, doesn’t mean no one does.”
“Dug likes Sanzo,” Goku said. Dug agreed by licking his face and barking.
“Oh joy, my life is now complete. A dog approves.”
“I said he likes you. I never said nothing about approving,” Goku retorted to Gojyo’s amusement. Even Hakkai cracked a smile.
“I like Goku,” Hakkai said, when the two morons relocated to the other side of the gondola and started something that in most civilised places would be called a fight, but considering their track record it was a mere conversation.
“And I care about this, because?”
“Sanzo, please.” Hakkai’s eyebrow indicated that this was a time for serious, honest conversation, and that there was no escaping it, because Hakkai would follow him around the two by two basket and talk, until Sanzo gave in and talked back. There was also the hint that the phrase’s intended meaning ran closer to “bitch, please,” but this Sanzo ignored for the sake of his sanity.
“Jesus fuck. What?”
“So I have noticed you seem fond of Goku,” Hakkai said in the same way people might say “So I noticed you like the colour blue.”
“He’s a useless monkey.” When Hakkai said nothing but raised the brow a little higher, Sanzo sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”
“I am merely expressing my approval.”
“Thank you. I need your approval to live.”
“No, you don’t. I am going to give it all the same.” Hakkai risked a glance at the balloon overhead, and smiled. “He’s good for you.”
“So are bananas and I don’t hear you yapping about those.”
“Bananas don’t make you smile.”
“He certainly doesn’t make me smile,” Sanzo hissed, because this was preposterous.
“Indeed.” Hakkai smirked. “I am going to drop the subject now, content in the knowledge that it has burrowed into your brain to a satisfactory degree. How about the weather?”
And so Sanzo spent the next hour discussing the cloud formation up ahead, hoping the droning would eventually drown out the voice, which had been missing and presumed dead since Koumyou had died.
“Any chance we’re going to catch up to those?” Gojyo asked when the novelty of giving the finger to someone and having them completely ignore the offence wore off.
“We were just debating that. Sanzo is of the opinion that the clouds travel at least as fast as we do, so there is no conceivable way we can catch them. I however, remain unconvinced.”
“Fascinating. I’m gonna go sit in the other corner.” Gojyo went back to Goku and Dug, and Sanzo couldn’t blame him. He was dying to escape too, but considering his options, he was better off staying where he was. His crush on Koumyou had been slow in development, and it had taken Hakkai to finally clue him in. Sanzo had no desire to repeat the aptly named inappropriate blushing incident.
******
They travelled through the sky at a lazy pace, soaking up what felt like all the sunlight, from morning, through high noon all the way to that special time between midday and sunset when even the colour black was shining and bright. Their round shadow slid over the trees and the plains, occasionally stretching into an ellipse when the ground sloped. Every now and then a bird would level with them, give them the stink eye, and disappear back into the blue. The swarm of balloons they left behind at the meadow was following them now, but far enough to make any kind of chase unnecessary. Down on the ground people were looking up and pointing, and the occasional car stopped to allow its passengers a moment of wonder at the technology that had lifted men above the clouds.
Sanzo started searching for weaponry, because poetry only started forming in his mind when he was utterly bored, and such boredom as he was experiencing now could only be alleviated by a suicide attempt.
“I’m hungry,” Goku said. He’d kicked off his shoes sometime during the flight, and amused himself for an hour or so by wiggling his toes in the wind. He really was a stupid monkey.
“It shouldn’t be long now,” Hakkai said, giving his watch a cursory glance. “It’s been over five hours, and Julio said we’d be landing inside of six.”
No wonder Sanzo was bored. He hadn’t gone this long without typing an acrimonious comment or otherwise doing something besides sitting in forever.
Fortunately, that was the moment when the pilot said something Spanish, too quickly for even Hakkai to catch, though the inflection told Sanzo it was the local variation of “fuck”. Sanzo got up to peer over the edge of the gondola, only to discover yet another military truck following them closely, and by the looks of it, the guys manning the shooting stations had harpoons.
“What the everloving mother of fuck,” he said, bringing the rest of his merry party to his spot, though for what reason Goku turned up, he had no idea.
“What? What’s going on?”
“We seem to be in trouble.”
“Again?” Goku gave a moment’s consideration to the unseen threat. “I hope they have food.”
“That’s the best you can do? I hope they have food?”
“Well, we are getting caught, yeah? I mean, you all seem pretty tense and all, so I assume that’s happening. I just hope they feed us. I’m hungry.”
“What planet is he from?” Gojyo asked of Sanzo, who shrugged.
“How should I know? I’m not an astronomer.”
They were close enough to hear voices now, at least get the gist of what the yelling on the ground meant, so when Julio killed the flames that kept them afloat, the basket filled with the oppressive silence that always accompanied impending doom. Even Dug decided to keep his mug shut for the time being, only deciding on barking again when they hit the ground and the soldiers surrounded them with guns at the ready.
“You are not earning points for originality, I hope you realise,” Hakkai said when they were ushered into the truck.
“Originality is the priority of any military, clearly.” Sanzo surprised himself by grabbing Dug and hoisting him into the back of the truck. He followed up this act of kindness with grabbing Goku’s hand and pulling him up too, sending his brain into a temporary coma caused by niceness.
“What were you expecting them to do, a dance?” Gojyo grinned at the female-shaped soldier, earning himself a glare and an order to shut up.
“That could spice things up,” Goku said, feeling around for a bench. “This is kinda repetitive.”
“Bonus points for additional syllables,” Sanzo muttered, still in shock.
“Oh? What’s the points gonna get me?”
“The way things are going?” Gojyo started to put on his most lecherous grin, prompting a vicious hiss from Sanzo. He caught himself in time, following the comment with a weak “I’m guessing free food.”
Goku brightened, which, given his natural disposition, meant he started emitting electromagnetic waves within the visible range. “Oooh, worth the effort then!”
******
Yet another ride in the back of a truck, all the more boring for the presence of what Sanzo guessed were paramilitaries, because there were no crests on their uniforms and frankly no discernible reason for any country’s military to engage in a kidnapping. Certainly not in South America, unless Sanzo’s knowledge of the current politics was even poorer than previously realised. Conversation was stilted, though from the few sparse words he heard, Sanzo discerned that all the soldiers hailed from the Isles, which made even less sense.
Then again, Sanzo mused as he looked around. I’m in a car with a cripple, a dog, an evil overlord and his minion, just like the setup to a bad knock-knock joke. You couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried.
Goku had dozed halfway through the ride, sliding down the bench and landing on Gojyo’s lap. He spent the rest of the trip blissfully oblivious to the pointlessness of everything, only waking up when Dug started barking in response to one of the soldier coming too close.
“What?” Goku shot off the bench as if bitten. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re still kidnapped,” Sanzo said. “We have no idea where we are.”
“I’m hungry.”
“That’s a shocking news item.”
The truck stopped and the soldiers opened the door to reveal more soldiers. It was shaping to be a splendid evening, fun for all involved.
“Inside,” one of the soldiers barked, ushering the whole group through a hidden doorway in the wall, hidden by a preposterous amount of foliage. Sanzo froze just looking at it, because that much wet plant meant insects and insects were not a good thing. Thankfully – or not, because knowing Hakkai there would be Hell to pay – Goku’s hand inexplicably found his and they stepped through the threshold blind, Sanzo by virtue of closing his eyes. He felt no touch of the slimy and planty nature as they walked, only the movement of air, so hopefully the curtain had been moved for his benefit.
He dared to look again when the fresh scent of the jungle breeze disappeared in favour of artificially filtered air, the like of which could be found anywhere from Vancouver to Canberra. He relaxed, if only a fraction. This was more homey.
They were led to a holding cell, a tiny hole in the wall, no more than seven by seven feet. Someone was about to open their mouth and make a comment, when Gojyo was shoved in headfirst and the door was bolted.
“I really must protest,” Hakkai started, when they stopped by the next door and he was impolitely invited to enter.
“Write a complaint,” was the suggestion before the door closed in his bespectacled face.
Goku’s hand tightened around Sanzo’s, but of course that was of little, if any, help, and when the third cell was opened, Sanzo was unceremoniously shoved inside. Thankfully without the dog, who would have been insufferable, judging by the high-pitched whine he let out when he lost Sanzo from his sight.
This was just great, Sanzo thought, sliding onto the futon placed in the corner of the cell. Fucking brilliant. Now they were alone, separated, and in barren concrete rooms, where they would starve to death before anyone rescued them. There must have been a hundred similar doors in the corridor, and God knew how many corridors, meaning there might have been a truckload of other prisoners, held for no goddamned reason.
Yeah, they were all doomed.
Sanzo lay down and stared at the ceiling. It was as empty as the rest of the room, nothing but grey concrete and an iron grille. “Fuck,” Sanzo said out loud. There was a little sink in the corner of the room, a toilet and the futon. Nothing else, except for the grille, with large, inviting screws.
Sanzo closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, the grille was still there. He had spare change in his pockets, including pennies, so he was obliged to at least try to get the damned thing unscrewed.
He gave it a little more time, because as uneventful as the trip had been, sitting still in the presence of armed soldiers was surprisingly tiring, and his back had built up a bit of a tension ache. The futon was no less comfortable than the one he used at home, so it was no surprise then that when he allowed his mind to drift for just a moment, the next thing he remembered was the doors opening and the smell of food wafting inside.
His brain must have borrowed some lower functions from either the monkey or the mutt, because his mouth started watering before the guns pointed in his direction allowed for the rational part of it to catch up and realise there was food and that it smelled good.
The soldier put a tray on the floor and before Sanzo could make a move in its direction he was out, the two guns at the door disappeared and the door closed. “What did you think I was going to do, shoot you?” Sanzo asked, reaching out to pull the tray towards him.
Not for the first time during this madcap adventure, he surprised himself by how hungry he was. The cook they had slaving in this place was worth whatever they paid him, possibly more. It did raise some interesting questions, but for once Sanzo discovered that his higher functions weren’t as high as he liked to pretend sometimes, and that they could be easily drowned out by hunger.
The tray included a bowl of thick soup, which didn’t yield a single eyeball when stirred, so Sanzo ate it without qualms. He hesitated when he arrived at the pie-shaped dessert, because nothing which looked that plastic could possibly be edible, so he finished the meal by helping himself to a glass of water from the sink. He had to fight his gag reflex, because his brain chose that moment to wake up and remind him what dangers lay in drinking tap water in tropical countries, but fortunately his inner survivor was more of a warrior than his inner mysophobe.
Not too long after that there was a tapping on the door and again three soldiers, with guns at the ready, let themselves in to collect the tray. “Where’s the knife?” the soldier on point asked, and automatically the guns behind his back rose to attention.
Sanzo returned his glare, full force. “I don’t know. Under the thing you call pie, perhaps?”
It was, but if the venomous gaze he got was any indication, he would find no friends in this corner of the world, not any time soon. “I never called it a pie,” the soldier said as he left, taking the tray with him.
Sanzo rolled his eyes at the empty room. As soon as the lock clicked shut, he was up on the sink, balancing on one foot, with the other braced against the wall opposite, while Sanzo started unscrewing the grille with a penny.
TBC
Rating: none
Pairings: 39, past Sanzo/Koumyou
Genre: AU WAFF
Wordcount: 50k, total.
Warnings: Koumyou is dead. Also, before the pairings squick you out, for the purposes of this fic Koumyou was never Sanzo's father figure. Might contain wacky adventures.
Summary: Sanzo hates the park, Hakkai, Gojyo, people and the world. He likes his OCD and his job as a professional Internet troll. He likes his unapologetic, rampant atheism. The universe sets out to prove him wrong.
Author's Note: Very loosely based on the (awesome and amazing) movie Up! This is actually a “light” version of the bunny – the original explored the pitfalls of reincarnation and crushed your soul.
The story is finished and will be posted whole over the next three weeks, maybe a little more (there is sixteen chapters, total). Doing it like this, because a/ I need a pick-me-up right now, and b/ have internet issues, posting the whole thing in one go would be a pain, c/ I figure this will make reading easier for you. So, enjoy!
Betaed by
kispexi2, who graciously stepped in to help. <3 Thank you, hun!The balloon was vividly orange. Sanzo, if he arched his back, could see its brightness against the blue sky, and it was a sight to behold. The few clouds that littered the sky were far in the distance, awkward little sheep on the azure pasture.
“That’s just great,” Sanzo said, sinking to join Hakkai on the bottom of the basket.
“It’s not so bad. The view is fantastic.” Gojyo grinned at them both. “Seriously, I understand Hakkai, but the hell you are doing down there?”
Sanzo said nothing. The truth was that he, too, had altophobia; he just hid it better than Hakkai. He hated planes, hated anything that flew. How that squared with to his frequent skydiving expeditions, he wasn’t sure. He had been very vocal when the idea had first been brought to his attention and it had been only Gojyo’s mindless tenacity that ensured that he had made the leap. It had clicked, to his surprise, he’d been weightless and free for a few minutes, after being weighed down by the world every minute of every day, so it’d seemed only sensible to repeat the experience.
Hakkai exchanged a couple of words with their unfortunate pilot, reporting his findings in a very brief and telling “We’re not landing till we’re landing.”
“That makes sense. I wouldn’t wanna land before we land. It could hurt and we’re fresh outta chutes.” Gojyo leaned against the edge of the basket and grinned at the open flame overhead. “Hey, what is the kid doing?” he asked suddenly, with such a tone of panic in his voice that Sanzo followed his gaze before he could think about it.
It didn’t seem fair that his heart stopped when he saw Goku perched comfortably on the edge of the gondola with his feet hanging over the side. The red balloon was hovering overhead, swaying gently in the breeze, and Goku was beaming at it, as though it was telling him secrets. Dug was standing on his hind legs at Goku’s side, tongue lolling out and paws on the rim. It seemed like hours, to Sanzo, the five seconds it took Gojyo to cross the gondola, wrap his arms around Goku’s midsection and pull him inside.
“Hey, what gives!”
“Are you trying to get yourself kicked off the ride?”
“I was just sitting!”
“Did you not get the memo? We are airborne!”
Goku turned his enormous eyes onto Gojyo, setting Sanzo’s blood on fire because Gojyo’s arms were still around him. “I thought we might be, yeah.”
“What the hell possessed you to do that, then?” Gojyo asked, finally, at long fucking last, letting go.
“I don’t mind heights.”
“You don’t see heights.”
“I didn’t mind heights even when I could see.”
“That’s no reason to risk your life like that,” Hakkai said, using his gently admonishing tone that had the effect of turning a sane man into a contrary monster in under three minutes.
Goku looked down. “Sorry. I didn’t think it was all that dangerous.” Of course, Sanzo mused, Goku was the exception to a great many human rules. The notion of him having otherworldly origins was swiftly moving out of the land of theory and into the realms of certainty.
“Where are we going?” Goku asked meanwhile, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. The balloon Sanzo had given him still bobbed about his head, like a fiery red halo.
“We don’t really know. There is a projected landing site, but that’s about all I know. Of course it all depends on the winds and minute weather changes.” Hakkai kept his eyes closed as he said this, which made him seem snide and disinterested, which he wasn’t at the time. The tricky thing about Hakkai, however, was that this was his disposition a lot of the time – his plastic smile disguised the sneering well enough, but Sanzo, while hopeless at interaction, knew a thing or two about reading people, particularly people he knew well.
It was odd how his skill failed so utterly with Goku. Either there was some serious acting skill at work there, or he was a genuinely simple and kind person. Sanzo kept expecting evidence to back up the former, because the latter seemed too weird. How does one live to see (allegedly) twenty-six, become blind and not jaded, even a little, Sanzo wondered.
Then, unexpectedly, a surprising thought occured to Sanzo: he’d met in his life very few people who weren’t politicians or children or spouses of politicians. It might just be that there was a whole world of decent, honest people that had just passed him by while he sneered at the hypocrisy and mendacity of everyone in his social circle.
Koumyou had been honest, in his own peculiar way, but Sanzo attributed it to his general all-around weirdness. The guy had eaten Marmite by the spoonful, for fuck’s sake.
Sanzo’s wandering eyes trailed onto Gojyo, and he had to snort. Gojyo was, and Sanzo would shoot himself for saying this out loud, a blessing, a fact made all the more poignant by Koumyou’s death. He was a good bloke, an all-around decent guy, who burped and was inappropriate and wasn’t scared to tell Sanzo he was being a dick and a moron. He was also the first member of the working class Sanzo referred to by his first name, which had to count for something.
Sanzo came out of his reverie to yet another lungful of dog breath. Dug’s eyes were boring into him with serious questions like “where is my treat?” and “don’t you have treats for me?” written in them in block capitals.
“Is this going to be a common occurrence?” Sanzo asked no one in particular, trying to edge away from the dog and finding Hakkai in his way. “Because in that case Dug needs to brush his teeth.”
“Aww, someone has a new friend!”
“You -- can it.”
“What? What’s going on?” Goku asked plopping down to sit beside his dog.
“Dug smelled smoke, so naturally he came to see if Sanzo’s head wasn’t overheating. ‘cause of all the thinking,” Gojyo said.
“Sanzo’s thinking?” Goku asked, and he sounded so innocently amused Sanzo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He settled for getting indignant.
“Just because you never do it, doesn’t mean no one does.”
“Dug likes Sanzo,” Goku said. Dug agreed by licking his face and barking.
“Oh joy, my life is now complete. A dog approves.”
“I said he likes you. I never said nothing about approving,” Goku retorted to Gojyo’s amusement. Even Hakkai cracked a smile.
“I like Goku,” Hakkai said, when the two morons relocated to the other side of the gondola and started something that in most civilised places would be called a fight, but considering their track record it was a mere conversation.
“And I care about this, because?”
“Sanzo, please.” Hakkai’s eyebrow indicated that this was a time for serious, honest conversation, and that there was no escaping it, because Hakkai would follow him around the two by two basket and talk, until Sanzo gave in and talked back. There was also the hint that the phrase’s intended meaning ran closer to “bitch, please,” but this Sanzo ignored for the sake of his sanity.
“Jesus fuck. What?”
“So I have noticed you seem fond of Goku,” Hakkai said in the same way people might say “So I noticed you like the colour blue.”
“He’s a useless monkey.” When Hakkai said nothing but raised the brow a little higher, Sanzo sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”
“I am merely expressing my approval.”
“Thank you. I need your approval to live.”
“No, you don’t. I am going to give it all the same.” Hakkai risked a glance at the balloon overhead, and smiled. “He’s good for you.”
“So are bananas and I don’t hear you yapping about those.”
“Bananas don’t make you smile.”
“He certainly doesn’t make me smile,” Sanzo hissed, because this was preposterous.
“Indeed.” Hakkai smirked. “I am going to drop the subject now, content in the knowledge that it has burrowed into your brain to a satisfactory degree. How about the weather?”
And so Sanzo spent the next hour discussing the cloud formation up ahead, hoping the droning would eventually drown out the voice, which had been missing and presumed dead since Koumyou had died.
“Any chance we’re going to catch up to those?” Gojyo asked when the novelty of giving the finger to someone and having them completely ignore the offence wore off.
“We were just debating that. Sanzo is of the opinion that the clouds travel at least as fast as we do, so there is no conceivable way we can catch them. I however, remain unconvinced.”
“Fascinating. I’m gonna go sit in the other corner.” Gojyo went back to Goku and Dug, and Sanzo couldn’t blame him. He was dying to escape too, but considering his options, he was better off staying where he was. His crush on Koumyou had been slow in development, and it had taken Hakkai to finally clue him in. Sanzo had no desire to repeat the aptly named inappropriate blushing incident.
******
They travelled through the sky at a lazy pace, soaking up what felt like all the sunlight, from morning, through high noon all the way to that special time between midday and sunset when even the colour black was shining and bright. Their round shadow slid over the trees and the plains, occasionally stretching into an ellipse when the ground sloped. Every now and then a bird would level with them, give them the stink eye, and disappear back into the blue. The swarm of balloons they left behind at the meadow was following them now, but far enough to make any kind of chase unnecessary. Down on the ground people were looking up and pointing, and the occasional car stopped to allow its passengers a moment of wonder at the technology that had lifted men above the clouds.
Sanzo started searching for weaponry, because poetry only started forming in his mind when he was utterly bored, and such boredom as he was experiencing now could only be alleviated by a suicide attempt.
“I’m hungry,” Goku said. He’d kicked off his shoes sometime during the flight, and amused himself for an hour or so by wiggling his toes in the wind. He really was a stupid monkey.
“It shouldn’t be long now,” Hakkai said, giving his watch a cursory glance. “It’s been over five hours, and Julio said we’d be landing inside of six.”
No wonder Sanzo was bored. He hadn’t gone this long without typing an acrimonious comment or otherwise doing something besides sitting in forever.
Fortunately, that was the moment when the pilot said something Spanish, too quickly for even Hakkai to catch, though the inflection told Sanzo it was the local variation of “fuck”. Sanzo got up to peer over the edge of the gondola, only to discover yet another military truck following them closely, and by the looks of it, the guys manning the shooting stations had harpoons.
“What the everloving mother of fuck,” he said, bringing the rest of his merry party to his spot, though for what reason Goku turned up, he had no idea.
“What? What’s going on?”
“We seem to be in trouble.”
“Again?” Goku gave a moment’s consideration to the unseen threat. “I hope they have food.”
“That’s the best you can do? I hope they have food?”
“Well, we are getting caught, yeah? I mean, you all seem pretty tense and all, so I assume that’s happening. I just hope they feed us. I’m hungry.”
“What planet is he from?” Gojyo asked of Sanzo, who shrugged.
“How should I know? I’m not an astronomer.”
They were close enough to hear voices now, at least get the gist of what the yelling on the ground meant, so when Julio killed the flames that kept them afloat, the basket filled with the oppressive silence that always accompanied impending doom. Even Dug decided to keep his mug shut for the time being, only deciding on barking again when they hit the ground and the soldiers surrounded them with guns at the ready.
“You are not earning points for originality, I hope you realise,” Hakkai said when they were ushered into the truck.
“Originality is the priority of any military, clearly.” Sanzo surprised himself by grabbing Dug and hoisting him into the back of the truck. He followed up this act of kindness with grabbing Goku’s hand and pulling him up too, sending his brain into a temporary coma caused by niceness.
“What were you expecting them to do, a dance?” Gojyo grinned at the female-shaped soldier, earning himself a glare and an order to shut up.
“That could spice things up,” Goku said, feeling around for a bench. “This is kinda repetitive.”
“Bonus points for additional syllables,” Sanzo muttered, still in shock.
“Oh? What’s the points gonna get me?”
“The way things are going?” Gojyo started to put on his most lecherous grin, prompting a vicious hiss from Sanzo. He caught himself in time, following the comment with a weak “I’m guessing free food.”
Goku brightened, which, given his natural disposition, meant he started emitting electromagnetic waves within the visible range. “Oooh, worth the effort then!”
******
Yet another ride in the back of a truck, all the more boring for the presence of what Sanzo guessed were paramilitaries, because there were no crests on their uniforms and frankly no discernible reason for any country’s military to engage in a kidnapping. Certainly not in South America, unless Sanzo’s knowledge of the current politics was even poorer than previously realised. Conversation was stilted, though from the few sparse words he heard, Sanzo discerned that all the soldiers hailed from the Isles, which made even less sense.
Then again, Sanzo mused as he looked around. I’m in a car with a cripple, a dog, an evil overlord and his minion, just like the setup to a bad knock-knock joke. You couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried.
Goku had dozed halfway through the ride, sliding down the bench and landing on Gojyo’s lap. He spent the rest of the trip blissfully oblivious to the pointlessness of everything, only waking up when Dug started barking in response to one of the soldier coming too close.
“What?” Goku shot off the bench as if bitten. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re still kidnapped,” Sanzo said. “We have no idea where we are.”
“I’m hungry.”
“That’s a shocking news item.”
The truck stopped and the soldiers opened the door to reveal more soldiers. It was shaping to be a splendid evening, fun for all involved.
“Inside,” one of the soldiers barked, ushering the whole group through a hidden doorway in the wall, hidden by a preposterous amount of foliage. Sanzo froze just looking at it, because that much wet plant meant insects and insects were not a good thing. Thankfully – or not, because knowing Hakkai there would be Hell to pay – Goku’s hand inexplicably found his and they stepped through the threshold blind, Sanzo by virtue of closing his eyes. He felt no touch of the slimy and planty nature as they walked, only the movement of air, so hopefully the curtain had been moved for his benefit.
He dared to look again when the fresh scent of the jungle breeze disappeared in favour of artificially filtered air, the like of which could be found anywhere from Vancouver to Canberra. He relaxed, if only a fraction. This was more homey.
They were led to a holding cell, a tiny hole in the wall, no more than seven by seven feet. Someone was about to open their mouth and make a comment, when Gojyo was shoved in headfirst and the door was bolted.
“I really must protest,” Hakkai started, when they stopped by the next door and he was impolitely invited to enter.
“Write a complaint,” was the suggestion before the door closed in his bespectacled face.
Goku’s hand tightened around Sanzo’s, but of course that was of little, if any, help, and when the third cell was opened, Sanzo was unceremoniously shoved inside. Thankfully without the dog, who would have been insufferable, judging by the high-pitched whine he let out when he lost Sanzo from his sight.
This was just great, Sanzo thought, sliding onto the futon placed in the corner of the cell. Fucking brilliant. Now they were alone, separated, and in barren concrete rooms, where they would starve to death before anyone rescued them. There must have been a hundred similar doors in the corridor, and God knew how many corridors, meaning there might have been a truckload of other prisoners, held for no goddamned reason.
Yeah, they were all doomed.
Sanzo lay down and stared at the ceiling. It was as empty as the rest of the room, nothing but grey concrete and an iron grille. “Fuck,” Sanzo said out loud. There was a little sink in the corner of the room, a toilet and the futon. Nothing else, except for the grille, with large, inviting screws.
Sanzo closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, the grille was still there. He had spare change in his pockets, including pennies, so he was obliged to at least try to get the damned thing unscrewed.
He gave it a little more time, because as uneventful as the trip had been, sitting still in the presence of armed soldiers was surprisingly tiring, and his back had built up a bit of a tension ache. The futon was no less comfortable than the one he used at home, so it was no surprise then that when he allowed his mind to drift for just a moment, the next thing he remembered was the doors opening and the smell of food wafting inside.
His brain must have borrowed some lower functions from either the monkey or the mutt, because his mouth started watering before the guns pointed in his direction allowed for the rational part of it to catch up and realise there was food and that it smelled good.
The soldier put a tray on the floor and before Sanzo could make a move in its direction he was out, the two guns at the door disappeared and the door closed. “What did you think I was going to do, shoot you?” Sanzo asked, reaching out to pull the tray towards him.
Not for the first time during this madcap adventure, he surprised himself by how hungry he was. The cook they had slaving in this place was worth whatever they paid him, possibly more. It did raise some interesting questions, but for once Sanzo discovered that his higher functions weren’t as high as he liked to pretend sometimes, and that they could be easily drowned out by hunger.
The tray included a bowl of thick soup, which didn’t yield a single eyeball when stirred, so Sanzo ate it without qualms. He hesitated when he arrived at the pie-shaped dessert, because nothing which looked that plastic could possibly be edible, so he finished the meal by helping himself to a glass of water from the sink. He had to fight his gag reflex, because his brain chose that moment to wake up and remind him what dangers lay in drinking tap water in tropical countries, but fortunately his inner survivor was more of a warrior than his inner mysophobe.
Not too long after that there was a tapping on the door and again three soldiers, with guns at the ready, let themselves in to collect the tray. “Where’s the knife?” the soldier on point asked, and automatically the guns behind his back rose to attention.
Sanzo returned his glare, full force. “I don’t know. Under the thing you call pie, perhaps?”
It was, but if the venomous gaze he got was any indication, he would find no friends in this corner of the world, not any time soon. “I never called it a pie,” the soldier said as he left, taking the tray with him.
Sanzo rolled his eyes at the empty room. As soon as the lock clicked shut, he was up on the sink, balancing on one foot, with the other braced against the wall opposite, while Sanzo started unscrewing the grille with a penny.
TBC
no subject
Date: 2010-10-18 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-30 11:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 01:18 am (UTC)This is incredibly funny. A real treat to read, although why they keep getting kidnapped by these dim bulbs is still a mystery.