Day 048: That Could Have Gone Better
Summary: Morgan finally tracks Lip down.
Date: 7/16/16
Related: Several
Lip Morgan 

Alpha Station Entrance Camp Jaha

Inside the wreck of Alpha Station, everything is… the Ark. Sure, there's fresh air because of the many and sundry new holes in the exterior, but it's the same old Ark. This was once the Alpha Station mess hall, so it's relatively roomy, especially with the blackened and blasted hole between this room and what used to be a storage room beyond. Small tokens, especially twigs with greenery, have been set before the blasted hole as a sort of memorial. Tables and chairs are scattered around the room, and along one wall is a kitchen in the process of being converted from soy-processor to actual food preparation.

Two long corridors branch out from here, the northern one leading to personal rooms and the infirmary, and the southern one leading to the Guard command post, Command station, and gym.

Day 48

Lip Wylde. The Official Mountain Expert and Escapee Du Jour. Normally, he would be walking around like he owned the place but he's more just wandering at this point. He's been a busy beaver trying to do some things that probably have to do with the fact that he's planning the greatest rescue of all rescues. He's not even sure if he has the skills necessary to do this but he'll be damned if he doesn't try. He has people that might actually be his friend someday stuck in there. Fuck that. It's time to get those fools back. His hand-me-down baton/bandolier combo is strapped to his back like he's some sort of hero of the story. He's randomly practicing drawing the baton out of the bandolier and it's bad. Like horrible. Like he keeps smacking himself in the back of the head and neck while trying to do this.

Morgan had been looking for Lip. For days. At first, the guy was passed out from the ordeal. Then he was being questioned by higher ups. Then he was drawing schematics and other shit. And of course Morgan couldn't stake out the guy's quarters around the clock. He got enough info second hand that he didn't feel the need for that. He's alive. He's been treated relatively well. It was enough. Mostly. But when he sees Lip, he immediately detours from anything he was doing to walk over. "Lip."

Another smack and "Ow! Okay, fuck it." Lip gives a dismissive wave of his hand at the thought of actually being effective in trying to do something useful with himself and this weapon he has acquired from the likes of his somewhat newly founded friend: Grey. It takes him a moment to spin around and catch sight of the guy saying his name. "Morganissimo!" Lip plants on a smile to make sure that he's putting forth the best possible version of himself at this moment. It likely won't last. "Dude. I'm so ready to kick some Mountkateer ass. You have no idea. These fuckers are goin' down!" Lip is so hype. He's even holding up a hand for a high five!

Morgan looks at the hand for a moment before walking over to high five him. "Yes, they're going down hard." he agrees, looking at the hyper kid intently. "Tell me about Cam." First things first.

"YES!" Lip goes from the high five and directly into a fistpump of rejuvenating effort. He loves it when he's not left hanging. "Uhhhh." Lip almost looks confused but he can do this. He can talk about anything. "He's still sexy. He eats like three meals a day. And I think he spends a lot of time in the art room of DEATH. Okay, so it's not really a 'death' room but I have to make it sound ominous or we'll forget these fuckers are evil." Lip can be serious for a moment. A very small moment. "He's fine, Morgan's Run. Just fine."

No, that's definitely not enough detail. "Lip, stop." Morgan tells him. "You're not stupid and you're not brain damaged. This is not the time for game and acts. How is he, really? What's this about an art room? Is he painting? Were you locked up? He doesn't do well with being confined. Tell me everything seriously. Please."

"First of all, fuck you for thinking I'm playing games. I told you what I know. It's not like you fuckers ever paid attention to me until I fuckin' fell down a fuckin' hole into a pile of rotting dead bodies and shit so you can shut the fuck up with the telling me what I am and what I ain't. I don't fuckin' keep tabs on /your/ fuckin' boyfriend, alright? I don't fuckin' know if he's painting or if he's in there drinking the fuckin' paint. He's not locked up. They only lock up the fuckin' Groundhogs because, y'know, stealin' their fuckin' blood. You wanna' know what the fuck he's doing in there? Well so the fuck do I. We sit in a big ass room and talk until we go to the next big ass room and eat and then we wander around the inside of the fuckin' hell hole everywhere we're allowed to go. Which is to say everywhere that isn't locked the fuck up with some bitch ass keycard that I couldn't get my hands on." Lip's rant goes from defensive to explanatory in about four seconds but that's what happens when you're emotional like him. "He's got new clothes, I guess, if you wanna' know that shit too. Fuck, man. I don't know. I'm a little preoccupied with getting him, AND THE OTHERS, out of there and blowing that fucking mountain to little nibblets. So excuse me if I didn't make a 'Morgy's Gonna' Wanna' Know This' list of facts."

Morgan just listens, waiting for Lip to get to some kind of point and tell him something he wants to know. "So, they fed you, clothed you and let you wander around. And there's an art room he spends a lot of time in. You didn't talk much or spend much time with him but he's healthy. That pretty much it?"

"… Yes." Lip doesn't like just having one word to say. It really throws off his entire spirit and nickname when he only has to answer with a single word. It ruins the momentum of being a verbal powerhouse of loquacious destruction. "Listen, Morgy-san. He was fine when I got out. Missing you like a fuckin' terrible disaster but he was fine. Nobody harmed him. Nobody touched him. He was doing just fine and I hope to Zod that he's still that way when we bust in that place and get him."

"Yeah, me too." Morgan agrees. "All right. If that's all you know, that's all you know. You've been making maps of the inside? That's going to help when we go in there and kill every last one of them. You're intending to come with us?"

"Come with you? Morg. I'm fuckin' leadin' this damn thing. I know that place inside and out. Well, mostly. There's some shit I can't remember but I'm not lettin' anybody go in there blind. And our people, your man included, stood by me when they didn't have to. They coulda' easily thrown me to the Mountain Wolves or whatever. They coulda' turned their back on me and treatest me like shit or whatever but they didn't. And for once it felt like people actually cared about me. About Phillip Oscar Wylde, Jr." Lip shrugs. "So yeah. I'm gonna' get us in. And then I'm gonna' get me a piece of cake. That cake is delicious as fuck."

Morgan nods. "Good." is all he says but then motions to the bandolier. "Unless you crack your head open with one of those. Don't do that. But yeah, he wouldn't do that." Cake? "Did anyone take your blood here? Make sure they weren't drugging you with anything?"

"I'm drug free." Lip shrugs with a bit of a look. He's heard of paranoid but this is ridiculous. "The cake was horrible at first but my kind and truthful words made the chef see the error of her baking ways. And the new recipe did not include drugs!"

"Is that a no? I'll suggest it to Li. They drug the Reapers." Morgan tells Lip. "Steroids, amphetamines, PCP. Bunch of other things. Things to damage the brain over time. You don't know what they might have been giving you all, preparing you for whatever they intended to do to you. Better safe than sorry."

"Do I /look/ like a fuckin' Reaper? I'm clean, I tell ya'! Clean!" Lip throws his hands up and gives them a bit of a wave around. It's almost a flail but not exactly. "Look. You let me worry about what's in my blood. You just be ready to go kick some ass when the time is right."

"We'll find out for certain and make sure you're okay. Why don't you come to the infirmary so I can take some and get it analyzed immediately?" Morgan suggests, motioning down the hallway. "We should know."

"No!" Lip backs up and holds up his hands in a way that makes it obvious he only knows how to fight from watching it happen on glowing screens. Which is to say that he has no fighting ability at all. "My blood is stayin' in my body. You didn't see the fucked up shit I saw. Ain't nobody takin' no samples, no nothin'. If I'm sick or whatever then I'll just die. But not before I get you assholes into the Mountain."

"And are you also ready to let the others die too?" Morgan asks. "If they drugged you with something, they drugged you all. We could get in there, kill them all and then find out we should have brought… something that we didn't know we needed because you refused to give a blood sample. Look Lip. Hopefully, it'll be perfectly normal. But if not, then you can make a decision as to whether you want us to treat it or not. That's your decision. But right now, you're making it for all of them too."

"Or… or, and I know this sounds crazy as fuck, I'M NOT DRUGGED! Have you even decided on that being a possibility or was the whole asking me about Cam thing just a way to get close enough to me to stick me with something and drain all the blood out of my body?" Lip narrows his eyes and adopts a stance that almost looks like it might be a fighting stance of some sort but it is so horrible that there's no way it could possibly be effective. "There's nothin' wrong with me. You can see that. I got not one damn symptom! Find me a symptom and I'll consider letting you scoop up some droplets if I ever get a nose bleed but until then…"

"Paranoia about giving a simple vial of blood." Morgan answers. "Frankly, if I wanted to get close enough, I could easily do that. Lots of people have been close enough to do that if we wanted to. But whatever. I'll tell Li what I think needs to be done and she can make the decision. And if she thinks it needs to be done, we'll get the fucking Guard to hold you down if need be. Which is what's going to be best for you. Because if it turns out you are all drugged with something serious and you refused? I'll fucking kill you if it put Cam in danger. Your choice." Turning, he starts for the infirmary.

"And if I'm not? Then what?! It's not like you'll even say sorry! Piss off, yeah! It's easy to talk big from your side of the argument! Fuckin' prick!" Lip is all mad now and thus he proceeds to make himself scarce. Y'know, going in the direction that is not the fuckin' infirmary. Because fuck those blood samples! "Paranoia. Fuck off, mate." Muttering to himself at this point, the Lipster is zig-zagging his way into the camp!

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