Captain

Two Sides Of The Same Coin (Knox)

Sandra: Oh! You're a marine! That's so manly. But isn't it dangerous?

Victor: Not really. It's more paperwork than anything else. We're on the sea most of the time, avoiding enemy waters, so it's pretty chill.

Sandra: That's neat. That made you ten times more attractive to me. It's funny, but I feel like you hold an important position, too.

Victor: Yeah, I'm the captain.

Sandra: That makes so much sense. I could see it in your pictures. You looked like you were the boss of something somewhere. Are you a good captain, though? Take good care of your men?

Victor: pretty much, I would say that. I listen to my men closely, make sure everything is in order, and do what I have to do.

Sandra: You sound like a gentle understanding person.

Victor: You seem to have me figured out already. I am gentle, in every way that counts. Trust me.

Knox's face slapped the ground hard. His mind rattled as the force of the hit went straight through his cerebral cortex. The pain went right down his spine to his toes, and he groaned right up to his throat in a pitiful wallow of grievance.

A hard steeled toed shoes covered foot landed on his back before he could even register that he had, in fact, been manhandled expertly with extreme lack of mercy to the ground by none other than his captain, Victor Wallace.

The man was the brutal fucking personification of Satan.

He felt the cold, hard open barrel of a gun touch the nape of his neck. He felt more than heard the trigger of it being pulled without hesitation. He cursed in his head. Silence rang out through the training area at the hull of the ship. His body seized and went completely still under the heavy press of Victor's boot on his back.

"You just got shot at point-blank range in the head with a M4AI rifle. Your reaction time is a shitshow, unbecoming of an actual soldier. You hesitate and have zero goddamn skill. You're an embarrassment,"

"The moment you step into war, you're dead," Victor hissed.

Knox's hands that had landed next to his head curled into fists. He bit his tongue and held in the scream of frustration.

He slammed his fist into the ground over and over again not caring about Victor seeing his pitiful fawn of anger. He bit his lip to curb the sheer anguish. He would return every goddamn punch to Victor's face if he could, if he could but that was just a wet dream.

Knox was having a hard time wrapping his head around the same man who kept digging the hull of his shoes into his back, knowing the obvious pain it brought with the joking, laid-back man on the phone who swore as if it was an oath that he was a gentle kind man. The contrast was giving him a whiplash that burned.

A gentle fucking kind man his ass.

The bogus bullshit was bitter on his tongue. Knox pushed himself up, straining against the push of Victor's foot, but he managed to shrug it off and rolled over onto his back with a huff.

He stared up into the dead blue sky full of clouds and almost cried from the pain, but if he let even one tear slip, that would just rein more terror of stimulation training on his barely salvageable frame. He would be in agony for days on end so he sucked it up and lifted himself completely to stand.

He righted himself ignoring the pain in his legs and turned himself towards the waiting barrel of a gun and sharp eyes filled with disdain at his incompetence.