#brr | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanddusted-wisteria · 2 months

Text

A Builder, a Researcher, and a Rooftop, Ch. 31: Emesis

prev | next | index

I am studious. I am logical. I am reliable. I am rational. I am honest. I am genuine. I am a researcher.

CW/TW: Vomit, panic-attack-like symptoms

(Arguably not a full blown panic attack? But just to be safe)

Also on AO3

——————

Qi panted over the toilet, bracing for another nauseous wave. The bitter, acidic tang of the already-upheaved vomit in the toilet bowl invaded his nose, not helping in the slightest. Nothing was helping. Not the labored hefting of his lungs, not the sheen of sweat clinging to his pores, not the rushing pound of his heart, not his utterly shattered thought patterns causing mayhem in his mind, irrationality reigning as his mind’s eye leapt frantically to the temple, the soldiers, the nightsticks, the guns, the muzzle, the cannon, the builder, the builder, the builder the builder

the builder’s eyes widened with fear

the builder’s limp body on the ground

the builder’s head on a pike, paraded through the streets with lifeless eyes

Qi buckled over as the bile spilled over again, retching until the last several heaves turned up dry. His head collapsed onto the seat that he’d neglected to put up, breathing faster and shallower. He seized a brief flash of lucidity to try and rein in his thoughts, focusing hard on the movement in his chest, the dull pain in his knees on the hard tile floor…and Ernest standing a little ways outside the bathroom door.

Ah, right. This was Ernest’s bathroom. The one that happened to be closest to the front door of the apartments. The one that Qi had unceremoniously barged into as soon as the soldiers’ guns went down. Ernest was glancing in at Qi as he nervously clutched one of his many notebooks, looking almost unsure whether his face should be showing disgust, pity, or some mix of both.

“Sorry,” Qi croaked, almost hearing the scent of vomit in his voice.

Ernest’s eyes darted sideways. “No…no problem…”

“I heard puke!” came a bright cry from the hallway. Burgess’s even brighter head poked in, brow scrunched with worry. “Everything—Oh no, Director! Are you—gah! No, you’re not okay, what am I thinking?!”

Qi hardly knew how to respond to Burgess and his trifling surveys even without the threat of war. He just stared back at him, and Ernest’s gaze flicking between the two.

Ernest broke the silence first, thankfully. “I think at least the worst is over for him…” he muttered.

Burgess nodded rapidly. “Oh dear, I hope so. Let me get you a rag or something to clean up!” He disappeared back into the hallway.

Then he poked his head back in. “Remember to rinse your mouth out!” Then he went back out.

In again. “And drink some water!” Out again.

In again. “Not too much though!” Out again.

Qi stayed on the floor for a moment longer, trying to even his breathing out a little more. He finally stood up and flushed the vomit down the toilet. Then he turned on the sink, rinsing several times to flush the taste of vomit out completely, before cupping his hands under the tap and drinking.

“Uh, you want a cup with that…?” Ernest suddenly appeared over his shoulder, holding out an empty mug.

Qi froze mid-slurp. “Oh…no. I’m fine.” He drank one last handful and turned off the tap.

Just then, Burgess reappeared holding a washcloth. His brow shot up when he saw Qi standing up, drying the water off his face with his sleeve. “Feeling better?”

“...Marginally.”

“Better than not at all!” Burgess said with a laugh that bordered on desperate. He held the washcloth out to Qi, who declined with a wave of his hand. Thankfully, only his face got dirty.

The second that Qi indicated that he was okay, Burgess blurted out a hurried apology and rushed out the door, presumably to check on someone else. After all, he had to take care of…wait, how many people?

Qi looked out Ernest’s door into the building’s common room, getting his first real glimpse of who he was now captive with. Almost everyone seemed to be engaged with the soldiers stationed around, blocking the front doors and watching the halls. Their wardens.

Grace appeared to be chatting amicably with one of them. No doubt with the ulterior motive of gathering intelligence.

Catori and Dan-bi, on the other hand, were ganging up on another, meeker-looking one. It was hard to hear from where he was, but Qi picked up some thinly-veiled threats, either involving a solid smack from Catori or a vague notion of the monstrous “Ri-ri.”

Andy was making faces at another one, taunting him in the way children do. The soldier just let it play out, bemused.

Pablo was peering at one helmeted head to another, tsking and shaking his head.

Burgess flitted between all of them, trying to get a status check on everyone, though he was mostly ignored.

“Looks like we’re really stuck here…” Ernest muttered from behind Qi. He turned back from the door to see the grim look on his face. “I wanted inspiration for my action scenes, but not like this…”

“I suppose we’ll have to manage,” Qi muttered back. “I doubt that this army has any vested interest in letting us out any time soon.”

“Well, what do we do now, then?”

Qi shrugged. “Continue to survive, I suppose. I hope. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

Ernest shuddered. “I just wish they’d at least tell us what’s happening out there. Why can’t these bad guys just lay out all their evil plans in their evil monologues?”

Qi felt another lurch in his stomach. Would he even want to know?

“GUYS!” came a sudden shout from outside. Burgess was standing up tall on one of the couches (with his shoes off, of course. Couldn’t get it dirty), a most unusual sternness to his demeanor.

The room fell dead silent.

Burgess’s brow shot up. “Oh, um! I didn’t think that would work!” He cleared his throat. “Uh, but anyway—! I know everyone’s feeling a little tense right now, and we all wanna get some idea of what’s going on, but we all just need to take a deep breath and—”

“Calm down?!” Dan-bi shouted. “They’ve trapped us in here! Innocent citizens! We gotta make an uproar!”

“Yeah, we gotta raise the roof!” Andy cheered. “Let these suckers know who’s boss!”

“Alrighty now, pipe it down!” barked the soldier that Grace was talking to. “Yous just gotta stay in here, all nice and quiet-like. No ruckus. Orders don’t say we can’t cuff ya if we needta!”

“Oh yeah?” Grace jumped in. “Oooh, I bet you’re itchin’ real bad to cuff us. Maybe ‘orders’ will let you give us a smackin’ if we’re realll bad…”

“Tsch!” The soldier rolled his eyes. At least, that’s what it seemed to look like with the visor on. “Oh, missy, I wish. Apparently, they want us to do it clean. Not a finger on yous unless absolutely necessary. Still, we’ve got the food around here, so if ya don’t wanna get acheys in ya tum-tums, ya better start listenin’!”

Murmurs filled the room. No one was hurt?

“Are they bluffing?” Ernest hissed, voicing Qi’s immediate thought.

“Not sure,” Qi muttered. “Do they have a reason to?”

“I-I can…sort of agree with that guy!” Burgess piped up again. “We should all try to settle down for a bit! It won’t do us any good if we freak out! N-no handcuffs, though…”

“Aw, but I liked freakin’ out,” Andy whined.

“M-maybe when all this is over, we can have a little, tiny freak-out…in a nice, controlled environment… But for now! Le-let’s just take a breather for a bit. Just check in with each other… Maybe think about how we’re gonna do lunch?”

Uneasy muttering filled up the room again, but people seemed to do as Burgess suggested. They gradually drew away from the soldiers and towards the couches and the kitchen, talking amongst themselves.

Qi and Ernest exchanged a glance. Ernest shrugged. They slowly made their way out into the common area. Qi’s eyes scanned the room, looking for a good place to situate himself. He shuffled towards a quieter corner. Somewhere out of the way. Somewhere hopefully people wouldn’t notice him.

As his continued bad luck would have it, he didn’t escape Catori’s attention. “Everythin’ okay, Director? Sounded pretty bad back there,” she called with a furrowed brow.

A chorus of other voices rose up in concern at the question.

“Yeah, everything okay?”

“Make sure you fill your stomach back up…”

“Hey, let him be, he’s having a hard time…”

Qi froze in his tracks. “Ah…um. Yes. I’m fine.” He fidgeted, unsure of what to do with everyone’s eyes on him.

The concerned rumbling continued, but quickly faded out as he averted his gaze. If he made himself look like he wasn’t in the mood to talk, people would comply. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, unsure what to do with his antsy hands. No equipment to handle. No pencils to write with.

No builder to hold.

He winced at the thought. Was it true? Were they really safe? Was he really going to take the word of some random Duvos grunt?

“Hey.”

Qi’s head snapped up from staring at the floor. Grace had suddenly appeared in front of him, taking a seat on the sofa arm nearest him. Her expression was neutral. Diplomatic. Not like the smug, self-assured smirk she got whenever she thought she had the upper hand in an argument of theirs.

He glanced away again. “…What do you want?” He was in no mood for the frycook’s typical jabbering.

“They’re alive. I know it.”

Qi shot her a glare, trying to ignore the shred of hope in him that desperately clung to her words. “On what sort of grounds?”

“Think about it,” she hummed, jabbing a thumb towards the soldier she was talking to earlier. “Someone like him’s not gonna lie about something like that. You saw how I provoked him, right? He was pret-ty pissed. If he was lying, you bet he’d be jumping to cuff us. At the very least. But he didn’t. So that means…” She raised an eyebrow.

“…That he only could have been complying with orders from somewhere on high,” Qi mumbled, eyes widening slightly at the revelation.

“There you go,” Grace nodded, a nearly-imperceptible lift on the corner of her mouth. “Good. Your brain’s half-working today. Welcome back down to Earth, ya spacecase!”

Qi huffed. “Is now really the time?”

“There’s never a bad time.”

Before Qi could think up a good retort, there was a SLAM from the front door. A hush fell over the room.

“Alright, now where’s that director…?” Qi felt his stomach curdle at the sound of his title said in that voice.

It was none other than Yan, #1 on the builder’s shitlist (their term, not his) and bane of all Sandrock’s productivity. He strutted into the room flanked by two soldiers, peering around to spot Qi.

“Ah, there you are!” Yan exclaimed as he found him. Qi grimaced. “I’ve got a real special request. An offer you can’t refuse! As in, literally, you can’t refuse. This is an order.”

All he got in response was a bunch of unamused stares.

Yan coughed. “Ahem. The great and esteemed, most illustrious Commander Lefu, Duvos Army, 4th Division, has handed me a most exclusive task!” he bellowed, chest puffed out proudly and gesturing grandly to the ceiling. “And by me, I mean you. You’re gonna do this. He wishes to have a jacuzzi!”

On any other day, Qi would feel insulted at the notion that he was once again branded as a furniture designer. But today, he was both insulted and infuriated. Here was the former so-called “President” of the Commerce Guild, strolling about at the whim of Duvos, while his subordinates no doubt languished once more under his thumb. That they had just escaped from, no less.

What is he doing to them…?!

Qi’s hands clenched, bunching his sleeves. If only he had the physical strength to thrash him… Perhaps the others could assist…

“Oh, real smart.”

Qi’s anger suddenly vanished in surprise. Everyone’s heads whipped towards the source of the sound: Catori, standing with her hands on her hips, frowning at Yan like he was a pesky expenditure column on her financial calculation tables.

“Ya give the man a nervous breakdown and put him on house arrest, and now ya think he’ll draw up a diagram for you just ‘cause! Real fuckin’ smart,” she sneered.

Burgess hastily blocked Andy’s ears, who just snickered. “Yeah, real—” Grace shot him a pointed look. “—heckin’ smart! You’re gonna make the guy who designed a killer robot draw a picture of a bathtub for ya?! What, you so stinky you forgot what one of those look like?!”

“Wh–! It’s not for me! It’s for—” Yan balked.

Pablo snorted. “Hmph. No amount of bathing would be able to clean off whatever’s on you, Mr. Yan,” he hummed airily. “And I’m not just talking about that horrid mustache.”

Yan turned on Pablo. “What’d you say ‘bout my mustache?!”

“It’s horrid.” Pablo put his hands on his hips. “Disgusting. Abhorrent. Disgraceful. And about 20 other words I can’t say in front of a child.”

“I-I-I also have to agree!” Burgess piped up, wringing his hands. “Er—n-not with the mustache bit, the whole jacuzzi-bullying-Director-Qi-city-invasion-is-bad bit! Um, not only does a jacuzzi go against the town creed of ‘conserve water,’ and you really should’ve asked Director Qi nicer, but uh, the whole invasion thing goes against pretty much every scripture in the books! And just think about people’s mental health!!”

“What makes you think he’s gonna work for you, anyway?” Grace jumped in from her perch on the couch. “Technically speaking…you’re no longer part of the Commerce Guild and have no authority over him. Plus, I think there’s some kinda special stipulation in the researchers’ regulations…something about ‘coercion’and ‘duress’ and ‘right to refusal…’”

“Listen here!” Yan yapped, shaking his fists over his head like some kind of toddler. “I don’t care what kinda fuddy-duddy rules you suckers follow, I’m callin’ the shots ‘round here! All the shots the Commander asks me to call, anyway…”

On and on the group squabled, poking and prodding and jeering and teasing as Yan’s face gradually grew redder than a tomato (Solanum lycopersicum, a distant bemused part of Qi’s mind murmured). Qi stood at the edge of it all, staring blankly as everything and everyone in the room seemed to blur together. Absent of his previous rage and terror, he could feel the gears in mind start to turn again in the way that he was used to—rational, efficient, vigilant.

“You saw how I provoked him, right?”

“Will you be fabricating this device?” he said suddenly.

Everyone shut up abruptly and snapped their gaze over to Qi.

Yan blinked. Then he exploded into an ugly, annoying cackle. “HAAA! Me?! ‘Course not! See, when you’re the President like me, you get to do a little thing called ‘delegation!’ Mark of a great leader! The newbie’s gonna take this one! I mean, once they hear that you’re workin’ on this thing, they’ll snap it right up.”

Something sparked in Qi’s mind at those words. Everything in his brain seemed to wake up, millions of action potentials finally set off.

The builder was alive. And safe. Relatively. At least uninjured enough to work.

Qi’s jaw clenched. “Fine.”

Shouts of protest immediately rose up.

“Y-you don’t have to, Director!”

“Oh come on! Are ya just going to let him have it?!”

“Yep, that’s coerced consent alright…”

“Bathtubs are lame!”

“Don’t let him win, Director!”

But Yan just twirled his mustache with a smarmy grin. “Glad to have you on board, Director! Now, if you’ll just follow me and my pals here…”

On cue, the two soldiers behind Yan moved out, the heels of their boots clacking hard enough to still be heard through the carpet. People drifted out of their way as they approached Qi.

“Hands behind back,” one ordered, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

Qi had no choice but to comply. He heard the jangling of the cuffs behind him and felt the cold metal against his wrists. He swallowed, willing his face to remain dignified and neutral.

A hard, gloved hand came down on his shoulder. “Move.”

And he did. Silent stares bore holes into his back as he, Yan, and the soldiers left the apartments behind.

——————

Qi blinked a couple times as he emerged into the bright noonday sun. The streets were barren and quiet, bar the occasional Duvos soldier. Some were stationed on street corners, some were marching elsewhere. The only conversations to be heard were exchanges of orders. Not much damage though, Qi noticed. There were only several stray bullet holes in the walls, probably left by the rooftop snipers. All of the truly destructive combat must’ve only happened on Main Street and the town square.

He fought the twist in his stomach that rose again at the thought of the cannon.

Finally, they arrived at the Research Center. One of the soldiers threw the door open with a BANG (No respect! Qi thought.) and nudged him inside. Once the door was shut, he felt the cuffs come off. Each of the soldiers stationed themselves in front of one of the exits, blocking any chance at escape.

Yan tapped his foot impatiently. “Well, what are ya waiting for?! Get to it! Chop-chop! I don’t have all day!”

Qi swallowed and walked over to his workbench, examining everything in his lab. Everything seemed to be in order…no messes, no signs of tampering, nothing confiscated. Interesting. But good.

“Whatcha starin’ at?!” came Yan’s loathsome voice behind him. “I said, I don’t have all day!”

Qi bristled, igniting a brief flash of courage. “Yes, you do.” Yan sputtered. “I am merely inspecting my laboratory to make sure you and your pals have not tampered with anything.” He turned around to face him with a firm stare. “You are lucky everything is in place. Had anything been manipulated or misplaced, I would potentially be completely unable to make your diagram. If you want something with any amount of quality, you will wait.”

Yan scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, you and your precious lab. Now’re you gonna make this jacuzzi or what?”

And so Qi got to work. Luckily he had an old remote-fill bathtub design in one of his folders. It was a very early one of his, made all the way back in Vega 5 as a concept for remote-control technology. Using the remote, one could start filling the tub from across the house with the press of a button. They could even control the temperature of the water. Incredibly rudimentary by his current standards, but it would do. He could just repurpose some of the electronics and add a few motors.

He ripped out a blank sheet of paper and got to work. After sketching some of the basic shapes, he noticed Yan close behind him, peering over his shoulder. He paused and looked back. “Must you stand so close?”

“Just makin’ sure you’re not sending any secret messages or something. So don’t even think about trying to write a love letter in there or…whatever it is you two do.”

Qi leveled a glare at him and turned back to his work, drawing slower now to spite him.

Hours ticked away like that. Occasionally he would hear Yan groan with boredom or complain about his back and walk a small circle behind him, before going right back to leaning over Qi again.

Meanwhile, Qi let his hand take the reins, gliding slowly, deliberately along the page. His eyes followed the tip of his pencil, drawing out the curves of the tub before they were marked on the page. He knew most of this diagram by heart already, just like every other diagram he’s made in the past. He didn’t really need to think too much about it. The exercise was…therapeutic, in a way. It felt good to be making a diagram again like he always did, no matter how trivial. While he was at his desk like this, the chaos of the world outside his walls could fall away.

“Ugh, do you really gotta draw that slow?”

…Until he was abruptly reminded.

“Patience,” he replied placidly. “Your commander is certainly demanding, and it is important that you meet his high standards.”

Yan just grumbled and went back to pacing in circles.

Oddly enough, as maddening as his presence was, there was something about Yan that also added to the therapeutic effect. Not Yan himself, sweet hallowed Science, no. Rather, it was Yan as he was in contrast to Qi. Everything that Qi was that Yan could never even hope to be. It was reassuring, almost empowering in a way, while he was stuck under Yan’s thumb, and especially in contrast to the helplessness he felt earlier.

I am intelligent, he thought as Yan complained about how many parts were needed for the jacuzzi. You are not.

I am patient, he thought as Yan groaned for the hundredth time about how slow he was going. You are not.

I am meticulous, he thought as Yan wondered aloud if septuple-checking the diagram for errors was necessary. You are not.

I am professional, he thought as he signed the finished diagram, right as Yan was snatching it out of his hands. You are not.

I am dignified, he thought as the cuffs were placed back on his wrists, trying to tune out the sound of Yan rambling on and on about how glorious the commander was and how much money he’d be making from the whole deal. You are not.

I am respected, he thought as the hostages in the apartments perked up when he appeared in the doorway, immediately asking him how he was doing, and several throwing another jab at Yan for good measure. You are not.

I am studious. I am logical. I am reliable. I am rational. I am honest. I am genuine.

I am a researcher.

And you are not.

——————

A/N: Might be a while until the next chapter again bc real life is busy and stuff :P Still, hope you enjoyed!

prev | next | index

#emesis: the medical term for vomiting #my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas fanfic #shady's fics #brr #mtas spoilers

11 notes · View notes