Work Text:
Name: Minute Tech
Age: 21
Occupation: Unemployed
Medial status: Healthy
Reasons for joining: patriotism
Any living family members or other contacts: Yes.
That was the first one Minute paused at. Did he give her name? Jumper wasn’t even technically his sister. Just someone he lived with, had for years, the only person who really cared about him.
He’d already lied about his reasons. No harm in omitting something else. Minute didn’t want to drag Jumper into this.
As for the reasons, he wasn’t even sure what he would say, if he could bring himself to tell the truth. Boredom hardly counted. Hunger sounded self-serving. Curiosity might pass, but it would only spark curiosity in return. Minute didn’t want attention. He just wanted to fight.
Reasons for joining: patriotism I’m good. I want to fight. I want to help.
That would be fine. Minute didn’t want to think about it too hard.
Prior combat experience: no Yes
It said combat. Not war. Minute didn’t know war. But he knew the feeling of blood on his hands, knew what it felt like to run and to see death, and know the only way to keep running was to set it on someone else.
Are you willing to die for your country and people?
Minute blinked. He nearly looked up, but then he might have made eye contact, with any of the other poor souls in this warehouse-style room, or, worse, one of the guards, standing stone-faced at the edges.
He didn’t want to die. But he’d killed to belong already, so maybe he’d die if it meant feeling home for once in his life.
Ticking yes, Minute moved down the checkbox list. No outstanding criminal charges. Previous criminal record, yes. No ties to other organisations. Yes, he was willing to give up his passport.
Yes, he understood.
Minute stood up, awkwardly aware of how much quicker he was done than everyone around him, and walked to a scarred man standing by the door opposite the one he’d come in.
Meeting his eyes, Minute handed the form over, neck prickling. The man stared back, expressionless, and Minute dropped his gaze. It felt respectful. Maybe this place would teach him respect, finally.
The form was taken from his hand, and scanned right there, while Minute waited apprehensively. Was this what he got, for being first done? He’d thought he’d hand it in, then have to wait.
“Fast worker, eh?”
Minute looked up, freezing for a second too long, before nodding. He wasn’t a child. He was a killer, among killers.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t yet. Through there. Someone’ll take you to intake. Welcome aboard, Tech.”
Was that it? Minute had thought it would be days, before he heard back. He had nothing on him, not that was he was sure he’d be allowed anything, anyway.
“Is that… everything?”
Whatever might have been good-natured about the man hardened, and Minute was quietly grateful they were the same height. He might have started shaking, if he’d been being looked down on.
“Don’t question your superiors, newbie. Get to intake. I’m doin’ you a favour, honestly.”
Minute nodded. He hurried to the door, not too fast, but he broke his usual, measured pace. He hoped the others behind him didn’t see. Not that he knew a single one of their names, but he never knew who he might see again.
On the other side of the door was… outside. Minute shouldn’t have been surprised. Cold, hard ground under his feet, even the grass had given up. Towering, metal wire fences on either side of him, penning him into some giant, yard-like area. A building on the other side, a little like a barracks, with other structures connected to it. All grey, or a muted sort of green. All covered in frost.
Beside him, there was some sort of guard tower. Minute looked over, searching for this person who’d take him somewhere. Through the window, he met the eyes of a young man with pure white hair, and raven-black eyes, in the middle of eating a sandwich.
The man froze, on seeing him, then narrowed his eyes. Minute felt like an animal in a zoo, surveyed helplessly, nowhere to run except further into his enclosure.
Then he stood up, and Minute stayed dead still as they walked out of sight, then emerged, still curiously suspicious.
“Newbie?”
“Yeah. Someone back there sent me through.”
Minute was glad his voice didn’t shake. It was cold out here, but bearably cold, just about. The albino man studied him for another moment, and his lips quirked, just a little.
“Fast-track, I’m guessing. Must have potential, or they think you’re cute. Name?”
“M-“
“Nope. No name, soldier. You’re just one of us now. Me, though, I’m Leo. You can call me sir.” Leo grinned, holding out his hand like a cheerful wolf. “Let’s find you a number, and a coat.
Minute took the proffered hand gingerly, trying not to let his whiplash show. He’d known what it would be like, in here. He wanted to be just a face in a crowd, in a way. It would be a nice break, while he worked out how to earn a name he really wanted.
In an instant, Leo had tugged him closer, hands shifting to his shoulders, and examining him up and down. Minute was frozen, both inside and, increasingly, outside, trying his hardest to not do so much as shiver at the feeling of lively eyes roaming across him.
“I mean… you are cute. What was your name again, soldier?”
“I- I don’t have one, yet. Sir.”
Minute bit his lip, really hoping he’d gotten it right. He had, if the way Leo lit up was anything to go by.
“Cute, and obedient, you are winning this!” Leo grinned, patting his shoulder firmly as he released Minute, and nodded in approval. “Wait here, I’ll get you your tags and send you off to training. Keep up the good work, soldier.”
With a two-finger salute, Leo ducked back into the guard tower, leaving Minute outside in the cold, with something strangely warm inside him.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
——————
He’d only made it two weeks of training. Two weeks, of gun drills and running drills and situation drills, and honestly, Minute had half wanted to be thrown at a war just to get away from all the people. They were everywhere, and it was more tiring than the conditioning.
Anyway. Two weeks. With nothing, no one, barely bothering to eat at mealtimes, working out in the practically nonexistent downtime. It helped that Minute was a fast worker. If they ever made them do something that wasn’t just fitness, like organising, taking inventory, or cleaning their bunks, he’d be done in half the time it took the other recruits.
Apart from that, though, Minute was feeling a little dispirited. He’d thought he’d be the best here, for some stupid reason, but there was always someone finishing the laps a few steps ahead of him. He tried to convince himself he let them, watching despondently as the other few dozen recruits came filtering in after he was done, but the sting of not being at the top still hurt.
And he was lonely. He missed Jumper, even if she was probably better without him. Minute hated the people here, but he wanted someone to talk to. Brotherships had already formed, blood vows made, and Minute had just kept his head down and smiled at Leo, whenever he appeared.
He’d gotten beaten up, for that. Someone had cornered him, after a mealtime Leo had appeared at the door of, with two experienced soldiers at his shoulders. He’d looked over the crowd, and Minute had waved. Leo had waved back, then left, smiling.
Apparently, Minute’s only friend wasn’t supposed to be the CO. Apparently, Leo basically ran this organisation, at least on ground level. Everyone knew there was someone above him, but no one had ever seen them stop Leo running this place as he saw fit.
Minute’s ribs were still sore. He’d avoided Leo, after that, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Other recruits didn’t seem to have had any conversation with him, as far as he could tell. So he wouldn’t either. He wasn’t looking to cause trouble.
Or he hadn’t been, until the instructor had marched across the field to him, and shoved him towards an area of the compound Minute had never been before. He’d felt eyes on him, leers, maybe snickers. Turned out Leo wasn’t the only one who thought he was halfway decent looking. Minute didn’t really want to know what they were saying about him.
Still, he’d gone where his superior had sent him, and now he was here, standing awkwardly in a chain-link airlock, waiting, wondering if he was about to be executed for not participating in team spirit.
Minute could have cried when Leo appeared, grinning like the usual madman he was. Could have, mostly because it was cold, but something in his heart ached for the only person in this place he’d had a real conversation with in a fortnight.
“Hey, 645. You look cold.”
Leo unlocked the other side of the gate, grabbing Minute’s hand on the spot and rubbing it sympathetically. It felt kind of nice, particularly against Minute’s frozen skin, and he smiled in awkward appreciation.
“Sir. What… is this?”
“Me introducing you to someone. Don’t worry, by the way, you’re not going back to that side.” Leo kept a hold on his hand, leading Minute cheerfully through the frosty wind to a large, official building on the other side of yet another field. “I wanted to see how you’d do, and… it was great! Really. You’re something special, I’m pretty sure. Could be wrong, but you’d have to prove it.”
Numbness was setting in, alongside a healthy dose of confusion. Minute felt Leo swing their hands, his soft black gloves gentle against Minute’s currently-calloused skin.
“Is this another fast-track, sir?”
“Ok, you can really stop with the honorific business now.” Leo gave him a half-pitying look, leading them all the way up to the heavy wooden door. “It’s Leo, ok? Seriously. Leowook, if you want to get formal with it.”
Minute nodded, slowly, and wondered how long he’d get to keep holding Leo’s had. It felt nice. The best thing he’d felt in the last few weeks. But he wanted to limit his exposure, in a way, so he wouldn’t be disappointed when he was moved to whichever new area of the compound he was being shuttled to.
When Leo lead him through the door, inside, Minute genuinely felt his eyes sting. Not because he was actually crying, but because the warmth hit him like a wave of fire, at least compared to the bitter cold outside. Their bunks were hardly warm either, thin foam on metal frames surrounded by concrete.
Now, he was standing on real flooring, holding someone he knew’s hand, warm for the first time since he arrived here. Minute could feel his heart beat, and had no idea where he was going from here.
Leo squeezed his hand, maybe reassuringly, maybe to tell Minute to follow him. He would have, either way, all the way to an office door where Leo paused, hand raised as if to knock it.
“Ok, don’t be scared. He can, like… sense fear, ok? Actually- do be scared, that’s fine too. Just be yourself.”
“Who- sorry. Yes. Sir.”
“You good? This is a big chance for you, I’m not gonna lie, and I may have wagered by reputation on you.” Leo shrugged, barely wincing like that was a tiny thing to say. “It’s fine, but I don’t like losing bets, so… do your best, ok?”
Minute felt like he might be dying inside. Leo didn’t even know him. He certainly didn’t know that Minute was capable of anything. And Minute didn’t know what he was meant to do, aside from enjoy not freezing to death.
For lack of anything else, he nodded, and Leo flashed him a reassuring smile before knocking sharply.
“Come in, Leowook.”
Rolling his eyes, Leo pushed the door open, already chattering. Minute followed him, meekly, sticking far too close to be respectable, but a little terrified of whatever was going on.
“Ok, how do you know it’s me? Because you keep doing that, and-“
“I could hear you talking.”
“Ugh. Bitch. 645, this is-“
“Clown. He can call me Clown.”
“…fine. Bitch.”
Minute could feel his heart hitting his ribcage like it wanted out of here as badly as he did.
Clown was sat at a rich mahogany desk, chin resting on his palm, expression some disturbing mix of bored, hungry, and fascinated. The office around him was mostly bookshelves, stocked with thick files and beige folders.
Minute was staring at his eyes. They were mismatched, one a normal looking blue, the other a soft sort of amber that looked almost warm. And over them, cross-shaped scars, almost like circus makeup, perfectly neat on both sides.
“Leo, if you’ve brought me a dumb monkey off the street because you thought it was pretty, I will have you shot.”
“Shoot me yourself, coward.” Grinning—definitely like a madman, Minute had never seen someone he wanted to be irate in front of him less—Leo tugged Minute’s shoulder gently, pulling him in front of and closer to Clown. “Also, I’d call him more of a cat. And he is pretty.”
“And this is my problem… why?”
Minute was really inclined to say it wasn’t. He didn’t even know who Clown was, only that he was scared witless right now, and this felt like an awful lot more than he’d signed up for.
But, somehow, he let Leo guide him to a plush chair, and sit him down firmly, all while Clown’s eyes didn’t leave him for an instant.
“He’s good, Clown. You can use him. And he’s lonely.”
Clown raised his eyebrows, not saying a word as his eyes flicked across Minute, then to Leo.
“You really know how to sell a street cat, Leowook.”
Minute felt horribly self-conscious, trying his absolute hardest not to squirm, in the most comfortable thing he’d been on in the past few weeks. It didn’t help that Leo was right, a bit. He was lonely. And it didn’t help that he was hungry, too, and the gnawing ache that had been giving him an edge now just felt like a distraction.
Clown’s eyes were on him again, and Minute saw silk-gloved fingers drum on wood for a few seconds longer than he’d like.
“Go get him something to eat, Leo.”
Minute felt Leo light up, behind him, and sunk down the chair a little. That meant being alone with Clown, who was eyeing him with a new kind of interest. He wasn’t sure he liked this. He wasn’t sure if he liked how hopeful it made him.
“That’s a yes?”
“It’s a maybe. Food, now.”
For the first time, Leo didn’t snark back at Clown, instead hurrying across and out of the office, the door swinging shut behind him in the space of just a few seconds.
Minute was staring at the floor. This was probably some embarrassing mistake. He didn’t even know who Clown was. He was really, really hoping he wasn’t who Minute thought he just might be. Leo’s mysterious superior.
“Soldier 645. Look at me.”
Minute obeyed. Of course he obeyed. He’d come here to obey. He’d come here to try to feel something. Now he was feeling something, and it was warm, coursing through his veins with the terrifying, heady excitement of being seen.
Clown didn’t speak for another few seconds. Minute wondered if he even cared who he was. If this was some sort of politeness, before he was kicked to the curb. Or shot, and Leo was just out of the room to make it cleaner.
“Leo wants you. Persuade me I should let him.”
That was it. No threats, no instructions, nothing. Minute swallowed hard, fingers curling into the upholstery as he straightened.
“I- I don’t know why I’m here, sir. But I know I’m fast. And I can fight- I want to fight. If… if Soldier Leowook has a job for me, I’m… happy to help my fellow soldier.”
For half a second, Clown’s expression flickered. It was all in his eyes, Minute decided. He looked almost normal aside from them. As much as anything had ever been normal.
“Good answer, 645.” Clown spoke almost in a murmur, tone unreadable and gaze moving down to a piece of paper Minute recognised his own handwriting on. “Do you have a name, soldier?”
He knew this one. Leo had taught him this one. The bruises on his cheek had taught him this one.
“No, sir.”
Clown made a low, buzzing noise, then laughed softly.
“Wrong. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
Heat rushed to Minute’s cheeks, and he hoped Clown thought it was just a side effect of the warmth.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Oh, that’s cute… keep doing that, Minute.” Clown chuckled again, running one finger down Minute’s intake form. “You should know, only one other person calls me that. You’ll like him.”
Minute wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He settled for nodding respectfully, and continuing to sit dead still.
The door opened, and Minute nearly flinched, then froze entirely, as Leo set a plate of what looked like pasta in front of him, and dragged a chair over to sit right beside him, practically vibrating with excitement.
For some insane reason, Minute looked at Clown. Clown, who tilted his head, barely smiling. That didn’t help. He wanted permission, or an explanation, at least.
“So… Clown? Yes?”
Clown held up a hand. He was watching Minute. Minute felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and wasn’t sure which way to step away.
He must be allowed to eat it. Why else would Leo have gotten him food? And it looked nice, nicer than anything he’d ever eaten before, to be honest. But Minute really, really didn’t want to get it wrong.
He stared at Clown, a painful lump in his throat, and shook his head in a tiny motion. No. He wasn’t going to risk it. He’d rather play it safe, and suffer, than mess this up.
“Congratulations, Leo.” Clown smiled for real, and Minute relaxed, a little. “You can keep him. So you know, Minute, food is normally for eating. Especially when you’re hungry.”
“Wait- Minute?”
Minute nodded, busy being absolutely humiliated by how quickly he started eating the pasta. He’d been right, it was good, and his eyes were prickling with a stupid gratitude to Clown for even acknowledging the game.
“Yes, Leo. They have names. Unfortunately.”
If he concentrated on the best food he’d eaten in his life, Minute didn’t even need to listen to them. He could pretend this wasn’t really real, that this was just soaked in the same edge of disbelief that everything had been, for the last few weeks.
“Minute… ok, it’s cute. Thought you’d be all for the numbers, Clown.”
“I am. But if you’re keeping him, you should probably know what to call him. And… feed him, fucking hell, Leo.”
Clown sounded almost genuinely concerned, and Minute spared half a thought to breathe, before he carried on eating like he’d never see food again. Honestly, he might not, because this felt like the kind of thing that ended with his cooling body buried by snow by morning.
“…yeah, ok. 6- Min, you- you good there?”
Minute nodded weakly, still chewing and determinedly not looking at either of them. His shoulders were definitely shaking. He hadn’t even realised how hungry he was, how badly he’d needed something warm inside him. This felt so much better.
When he next spoke, Clown’s voice had gotten gentler, and Minute didn’t know whether to hear a threat or something softer.
“Better be careful with him, Leo. Looks like he could kill you before I finally do.”