Beelzebub (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gluttoning) wrote2023-08-28 10:39 am
gluttoning) wrote2023-08-28 10:39 am
SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL (The World)
[FOOTBALL NOISES
aka this for IRL football watching or any communications outside Fragment. Yay football. :)]
[FOOTBALL NOISES
aka this for IRL football watching or any communications outside Fragment. Yay football. :)]
SATURDAY 9/2 vs UTAH - 3pm
Thousands and thousands of people are present. There's lots of food, summer heat, and the giant waves of noise from the cheering of the crowd, the stadium a sea of gold and blue. There sure are some familiar faces around here if you look close enough, including the redhead that occupies the bench, constantly getting up to keep himself limber in between his teams plays and clapping just as hard as the crowd.
It's a close game for a starter. Defense is high on both sides for the first two quarters. But swaps are made during the halftime - second string are let out to let the starters rest for the third, including #68, "BLAKE" emblazoned on the back of his uniform from the defensive line. He's an unyielding wall in his time on the field, and when he's asked to return for the fourth quarter, he does so without much hesitation. The camaraderie between the teammates seems strong.
The game ends with a close score around 6:30pm, the hooting and hollering of the fans echoing the sky that is slowly turning to dusk under the lights of the stadium and the evening life of Berkeley while the players aren't immediately available, with some needing medical attention and some taking press reviews, most are trickling out to see their families and friends by 7:30pm, freshly showered and ready for time to rest.
((Feel free to either yell at one another in the crowd, mingle after, or catch Barrett when he finally is free from the mob. He will inevitably be going home with his family but will want to see the people he invited before they leave.))]
post-game, 7:30pm.
"You're well-suited for the role," his superior officer once quipped. "You deliver bad news like you're discussing the weather. Have a heart, Sheza."
Yael scarcely looks any different offline, dressed in the winning team's jersey and a pair of dark denim jeans. When he approaches Barrett, it isn't with a smile and an air of joviality, but an expression indifferent, stone cold. This is Yael's default, so it may not catch Barrett off guard. Unfortunately, that might mean the news he's here to deliver is guaranteed to blindside.]
Good game out there, kid. Before you head off, there's something important I need to tell you. Not to rain on your parade, but...
["...You're wrong, commander. I despise it."]
no subject
Glad you were able to make it, Yael. Thanks a lot.
[Still... what was this about something important? His hands slip to his hip with a slight cock of his head in curiosity, but he still nods.]
...Yeah, if you think it's that important. What's up?
no subject
Mithrun is dead.
no subject
While leading him to take a seat stays a casual affair, Barrett looking up at him with openly quizzical eyes and a tightened cross of his arms... the entire aura stiffens with what Yael finally says.]
...Morgan...?
[What?]
...No, there's... there's been some sort of mistake, right? He's supposed to be here tonight. At Berkeley.
no subject
Yael draws in a breath— long, thin, silent. Don't fight him on this, Barrett. Please.]
There's no mistake, Barrett. Mithrun's body has been lying on the ground in-game for hours. None of the people who know him offline have been able to get into contact with him either.
no subject
The redhead's face goes pale as he fumbles for his phone. A few taps are made.
None of the messages have been opened.
Contact>>>Call, The phone is brought to his ear. It rings. And rings. No phone is going off nearby. But he still anxiously waits, up until the automated voice-mail kicks in.
Hangup. Call again.]
Wh... when did they find him. Has CCCorp said anything?
[It's quiet and tight, verbally holding back the panic that's very obviously settling in otherwise.]
no subject
Depends on what you mean by saying anything. Nothing useful, that's for sure.
[A weighty exhale. He can't look at Barrett right now.]
They haven't put out an official statement yet, but all signs are pointing to them blaming Mithrun for this. Remember what they said after that one guy fainted?
[They blamed it on Ganymede's offline health. Ever the realist, Yael expects this situation to be no different.]
For your own sake, don't log in. Not now. [...] Seeing him will only make it feel worse.
no subject
Voicemail.
Voicemail.
He sends another text. It sits with the rest.
He hears Yael speak. It feels like white noise.]
I... no, they can't do that. They can't keep doing that. He's not...
[...
As the phone goes to voicemail one more time, Barrett's expression hardens, an attempt to push up to his feet, his eyes very clearly scanning for the exit.]
No. I need to go see for myself. He can't still be there. I just talked to him last night.
no subject
[The chances of Barrett hearing him, really hearing him, are slim enough. The chances of him listening even slimmer. Nevertheless, Yael insists.]
You're only going to make yourself feel worse. Are you going to hurt yourself on purpose?
no subject
This isn't about my feelings.
Thank you for telling me. But if he's in trouble, I can't just sit here.
[He's not willing to wait for Yael to get out of his way, either. So long as the older man isn't blocking him off, Barrett is going to try to shoulder his way past.]
no subject
But he does hope, somewhere deep down in his heart, that Barrett will be okay. Loss never gets easier.]