Chapter Text
Mack would not call himself a pessimist. If he were one, he wouldn't be stuck on this ship, trying to find a neutral habitat for human life. He wouldn't call himself a nihilist, either, because he's cared about plenty. Would he call himself a narcissist?
Maybe.
Mack is well aware of the pedestal he puts himself on. Is this correct? Absolutely. He is, undoubtedly, a smart individual who deserves the praise he gets. It’s not his fault he's the only one willing to praise himself.
And yet, here comes Mark, waltzing in. Perfect, clumsy, charismatic Mark.
Would Mack say that Mark isn't socially endearing? No. Plenty of people around the ship love him. It's the fact they all basically trust him that gets to Mack, considering he doesn't have enough fingers and toes to count the amounts of times Mark has fucked something up. And that's not to say that Mack hasn't made his share of mistakes, he's not perfect. It's just that Mark is let off the hook so easily.
He's too comfortable, here on the ship. Something he does could seriously hurt him or others, and that's totally the entire reason. And everyone lets it slide. Except Celci, but she's perhaps the only person on the ship that Mack doesn't mind. Gunther might actually be worse than Mark in terms of safety, and Burt…Mack really can't read Burt. He's not sure anyone can.
“Mack, can you check on Mark? He's been on the bottom floor for a while.”
It takes everything in Mack to not glare at the captain, or demand they go do it themselves. He has dignity, after all, and a heightened sense of not fucking something up for everyone to see. Unlike Mark, he's not constantly excused for his actions.
As Mack makes his way down, he's muttering to himself. It’s a habit, a flaw more than anything. Mack can't fathom ever talking casually to anyone else around here, so why not himself?
“Mark. It’s always Mark.” He murmurs, making his way towards the door. Ever since that disaster last time The Invincible shut down (also Mark's fault), they've tightened the door extra. The doors themselves open quickly, just in case, so either someone has to block the sensors for a moment, or you have to dash through the door.
Mack slips through the door quickly, tucking his ID back in his front pocket and facing down all the stairs. He continues to utter. “Lord knows if I ever took five extra minutes down here they'd scold me. Or they'd forget I'm down here. I could be floating in space and-”
Mack stops in his tracks, making it halfway down the stairs. At that point, he smells something. It’s not a new smell, not in a place like this, it's metal. A metallic scent. Mack smells metal all the time in this godforsaken ship, but this scent is followed by something burning. Mack also recognizes this scent, immediately, as wires. Exposed ones, for that.
“Great, of course he's fucked it up.”
It’s moments like this that vaguely remind Mack of when he first signed up for this mission. When he was assigned to be an engineer, it made perfect sense. Was he expecting to be Head Engineer? Not really, actually. He knew he deserved that much, but he wasn't power hungry. He didn't care much.
Until he met Mark. Because suddenly, Mack was aware that people might see him as way less than he thought himself of. Sure, Mark built the damn ship, but there's a reason they're always busy constantly doing repairs around the place. The fact a man like that could be considered more than him? He's seen the way Mark trips over himself, constantly contradicting his words or actions. A part of Mack, deep down but slowly swimming to the surface, can't handle knowing he's secondary to a man like that. And sure, that dislike turned to hatred after a while, but it was always valid. He was always the better option.
Mack finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, and he freezes once more. The smell of metal is more prominent, but less common and more…
Blood. Is that what he's smelling?
Mack, despite his dislike for Mark, is not dense. He picks up his page slightly, and quickly makes it around the corner. When he makes it there, the burning smell intensifies.
This time, Mack is reminded of the several hours he had spent training to be here. Sparks, fire, the overwhelming smell of oil and his tools. This scent isn’t the same, it can’t be, because it belongs to a man that surely didn’t go through the same work. Maybe he did. Mack feels his footsteps bang against the flooring, the flooring created by that same man. A man he’s despised so long, the man who built this entire ship. Maybe Mack hated Mark because he felt better, maybe he hated Mark because he was scared. A pathetic, small fear that he had trusted his life with the wrong man.
Mack finally reaches Mark, who is sitting next to the electric panels of the trash chute, humming a small song as he tinkers. He doesn’t notice Mack, because of course not. Why would he? Instead, he just continues to spin his screwdriver.
“Mark?” Mack asks weakly, standing there. The guy is safe, he’s okay, even though Mack has no idea why he cares so much about that right now. Even then, the pit in his stomach doesn’t magically disappear, even as Mark looks up.
“Oh, Mack! Who sent you?”
See, there was one thing about Mark. He was really oblivious, way too oblivious. Mack doesn’t hide his disdain for Mark, enough that everybody knows about it. Even The Captain refrains from asking them to be together, except for now of course. The only person that doesn’t know Mack doesn’t like him is Mark himself, who can pick up on every insult Celci directs towards him but not a single passive aggressive comment from Mack. Does it bother him? Absolutely. It’s just another indirect insult to his character from the amazing Head Engineer, and Mack can’t stand how much this man’s existence defames him.
Yes. His existence. Mark’s mere existence pisses Mack off to no end.
Instead of vocalizing that train of thought, Mack crosses his arms. “The Captain. What’s taking you so long?” He scolds, eyes flitting from the screwdriver, to Mark, to the door leading outside that remains the only obstructable barrier between the two engineers and being literally sucked outside. “And what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m fixing up the trash chute doors! The downstairs crew has been complaining for a while. Apparently, it keeps opening the entire way, and they could get thrown outside the ship without being harnessed so- y’know.” Mark explains, making no move to stand up. Instead, he gets on his knees, moving an inch closer to the panel. Mack doesn’t know why, but on instinct, he looks at the emergency button.
“Can’t they just use that?” He asks stolidly, pointing to the button. It’d close the door immediately, regardless of crew ID or anything in the middle of the door.
“Well, yeah, but that’d send a signal to me each time and I hate swiping on notifications.” Mark shrugged. “Besides, I’ve put it off long enough. Can you tell Cap’ I’ll be down here for a bit longer? I got a nasty cut earlier, kinda slowing me down.”
As to demonstrate his injury, Mark lifts up his hand, covered lazily in gauze atop the other bandaids and calluses he has on his hand. Mack rolls his eyes. Of course, he can’t go a day without getting hurt.
“Fine, but harness yourself. It’s not safe to be sitting around next to one of the outer doors. Especially a broken one. Especially when we’re traveling way too fast to get you back if you fly out. ” He tells Mark, surprising himself at the concern reflected in the command. Mark just nods absently, laughing.
“Please! I’ve built this entire ship, Mack,” It infuriates him when Mark uses his name so casually. “I know how to work my way around some wires!” He points to the sparking mess, and makes a show of curling his fist and hitting the side of the panel.
Mack watches the next moment in slow motion. Watches as the door itself sparks this time, opening wide. Mark, completely caught off guard, doesn’t find anywhere close enough to grab as the evergoing drag of space pulls him entirely out of the ship. Mack, completely caught off guard, doesn’t have time to react to the complete loss of their Head Engineer before grabbing onto one of the spaceships' many, many metal handles. With one hand, he holds onto the stupid hat they make them all wear, and slowly moves that hand with an intense focus towards the emergency button.
He falls just out of reach.
Mack's heart drops slightly, and he instinctively looks at Mark. Because although the man isn't entirely reliable, he should know what to do, right?
And then he realized with a sudden jolt, feeling tools whiz past him, that Mark is gone. He stares at the spot the man just sat, all casual and unassuming. Mark is gone now, lost to the lull of space. Considering he wasn't even wearing a suit, he's probably completely frozen by now.
Mack's fingers slip from the handle, and he lurches forward in the same swift manner that Mark did. But not immediately towards the door, instead towards the wall. Bracing himself, Mack turns just in time before he slams into the wall, the brunt of it going to his shoulder. At the same time, before he's also sucked out, Mack immediately presses the button. The doors thankfully close then, the room flashing red for a moment, and then going back to normal. Almost everything inside is gone, save a couple things bolted to the floors.
That's it. Perhaps, five seconds at most. Such a short time, but when Mack looks over to where Mark just sat, all he sees is the same faulty wires from before.
He walks back upstairs on shaky legs. Realizing just halfway upstairs that his hat is gone. It probably got sucked out with everything else. He doesn't pay any more attention to it, reaching upstairs slowly. When he gets to the door, he feels around with a shaky hand for his ID, but it's gone. Most likely met the same fate as his hat. And Mark. Mack bangs his head against the door and lets out a shaky breath. Why is he shaky?
And then the door opens. There's a random crew member there, holding a clipboard, but they freeze at the dishevelled sight of Mack. Their mouth opens, words come out, and Mack just barely registers them. He's nodding once, then shaking his head, and then the crew member is rushing to get somebody. All the meanwhile, Mack is trying to find out why his heart is pounding so bad.
And then he realizes, blankly, that he's just walked in and informed the crew that Mark is dead. The man who built the literal ground they stand on, dying in such a stupid way. Of course he did, of course. Would they believe that? They have to, everyone knows how unreliable Mark is.
They also know how much Mack hated him.
The Captain is in his face suddenly, asking him so many intricate questions, but they all ring through Mack's ears. For once, he isn't listening. Before, he'd always have his ears open, always take any opportunity to one up Mark and beat him to the punch.
Before, he'd always be first to volunteer for something. Not out of a blatant aspiration for work, but rather to make himself seem more worthy compared to the absolute blunder of a man that stood above him in rank. Before, he'd do anything to seem more trustworthy. Because he is, damnit. But The Captain is looking at him warily, with an expression the opposite of trust, and Mack can unfortunately tell why.
Mark is dead. Mack has no alibi's, and despite it all, he's finally gotten what he wanted.
He's The Invincible II’s new Head Engineer.