Spots: Taking Care of Your Own

A Web Serial by M.C.A. Hogarth

63. Sickbay.	65. Hunches.

64. Taking Care of Your Own

Following day, after patrol.

"Hey, Spots? Door's this way."

Spots. "I know. But we have to pick up Fang2 first."

Claws. "Do what now?"

Spots, heading toward Sickbay. "Fang2 is at the point where he needs physical therapy. I volunteered you to walk him through that."

Claws. "Woah, what now? Isn't that, like, complicated work? That requires a license?"

Spots. "He's not that far gone. He just needs someone to walk him through a list of exercises."

Claws. "And you volunteered me for this... why?"

Spots. "He wasn't comfortable doing it in the gym with everyone else watching. He's one of the squad, Claws. We take care of our own, right?"

Claws falls silent. He follows her to Sickbay where she says, "Go get Fang2? I'll pick up his exercise list."

Claws. "All right."

Spots. "Thanks."

Claws finds Fang2 sitting up on his bed, waiting.

Claws. "So... I hear I'm in charge of floggin' your *** now."

Fang2. "**** yeah, I know you've always wanted a piece of this."

Claws, rolling his eyes. "Get off the ****in' bed and lets get goin'."

Fang2. "Thought you'd never ask, sweetie." He slides off the bed. Spots meets them at the door and they head out. Claws sets a normal pace, notices that Fang2 isn't keeping up and slows down. He frowns a little. At the Door, the guards examine Fang2 and make a call before allowing him in.

Fang2. "Wow, fancy. I feel all super-spytastic doing this."

Claws. "You have no idea." He palms open the door to the Testing Facility.

Fang2. "Sweet! Where'd you get clearance for this?"

Claws points a thumb at Spots. "Her idea." To Spots: "Start with the warm-ups. I'll see what we're supposed to be doin' to Fang2 here."

While Claws reads, Fang2 watches Spots start solo practice with the test-glove. "****, can I do what she's doing?"

Claws. "Later, when you're not limpin' like a horse in need of a mercy killin'."

Fang2. "Promise?"

Claws is about to retort but Fang2 doesn't notice; he's watching Spots, intent.

Claws, quiet. "Promise. Hit the mat, mister, you've got an excitin' regimen of... lessee. Sixty stretches to do."

Fang2. "****. They've got me doing yoga like some kind of soccer mom."

Spots. "I heard that!"

Fang2. "You're no soccer mom, woman. You're a gun-toting, ***-kicking, eats-rations-and-bugs-for-breakfast-and-then-makes-cookies mom."

Spots. "Hey, there were days before I was a gun-toting, backside-kicking mom that I wished my life was as easy as 'point guns at things and shoot them'." She pauses, looking wistful. "Actually, it would have been nice to be able to solve most of my problems that way back then. There were a lot of times..."

Claws. "Now look what you've done. You've given her ideas."

Fang2 cackles.

Claws. "Get to work. Both of you."

63. Sickbay.	65. Hunches.