"Meeee neither." Axl agreed, a slight chuckle escaping. He honestly didn't think he was capable of having good ideas, either. It had just been bad and disastrous ideas so far.

"It does matter. It proves I tried." He stated solemnly. He hadn't just gone off guffawing half assed. No, he attempted not to, and only a very small bark of laughter had escaped.

"You literally didn't understand my words, how is that cool..." He muttered, looking highly skeptical. Didn't make sense that she could not understand his sentence and call herself cool as fuck.

He blinked slowly, obviously agreeing with her. Because blinking was now an obvious sign of agreement. Maybe in Fourth Wing.

Axl yelped in quiet pain as she moved just the slightest bit and stabbing pain shot through him from everyone. "Holy motherfucking shit balls." He growled, flexing his hands just enough to assure he still had them. "We are not the brightest..." He muttered a second later, his gaze narrowing and snapping up as the door opened.

"Ahhh, the hybrid and the girl are awake." A male voice sneered. A moment later, Axl heard a bone crunch and he damn roared in agony. "LIMP DICKED ROOSTER FUCKING COCK SUCKING HOOOOOOOOOOOLY..." His jabbering faded as he gulped down a breath of air, rage radiating off of him.

"Shut up, and also, you need to eat, man! We can't torture you if you die!" The man cheerfully said, shoving something that looked like his own shit at them and leaving. "You DO FUCKING REALIZE WE CAN'T REACH THAT." He bellowed after them, then slowly looked at his leg. He wished he hadn't. "Oh God. Kill me now." A full body shudder ran through him.

"Do or do not, there is no try," she huffed quietly. Ah, yes, quoting Yoda now. Fan-fucking-tastic. It'd probably only get worse from there.

"You wouldn't understand," she sniffed. It was all in the confidence. Well, partly. You also gotta be born at least a little cool, which... yeah, Axl definitely qualified. He just didn't really seem to fully believe himself whenever he said anything remotely smug or vain. Pity.

"Good morning to you too, kitty," she muttered, though she tried to force herself to relax a little and not move in an attempt to spare him some amount of pain. Not that it did a whole lot, all things considered, but still.

"No, we're not," she agreed, with a sad attempt at a wry smile. It turned out more of a grimace.

"Hardly. More like animated corpses," she muttered under her breath. Despite Axl's pained howling, that he was using one of her swears wasn't lost on her. BUT. You just can't beat limp dicked rooster fucker. It was S-tier gold.

"No. Fuck your mother and die, you pinko fuckstick," Norrie huffed. She had all she could do not to add on I say let it die! Let it die, let it die, let it shrivel up and die. Always a good idea to quote Mr. O'Hare from The Lorax when tied up and held captive.

"Let's keep it that way," she muttered. Frankly, whatever the fuck that was, she didn't want it any closer than it was. Just knowing it existed was bad enough.

"Mood," was all she managed. Might as well save energy for when that fuckwad came back.

"I swear, I-" Axl dropped his hand into his hand and bit the inside of his cheek. "No. Not Yoda quotes. How dare you disarm me like that." No one could resist a delightful Yoda quote at this time- no one. And he was someone. So he could not resist.

"..........." He watched her for a long moment. "Mmmmmhmmmm." He finally responded, a low humming slightly patronizing not agreement. He needed to aquire some confidence and work on the delivery, but he could be an even more insufferable asshole. Cool.

"Anything on you hopelessly shattered, darlin'?" He asked drily, dropping his head forward for a moment and letting our a very slow breath. If the pain clouding his mind would subside, he could probably pinpoint where they were.

He focused for a couple moments and a couple moments later horror washed over him. "No. No no no no no." Fuck no. This was bad. "They clocked me over the head, didn't they." That didn't sound so bad, but his system- it was all glitchy. They must've hit just right to mess up some shit. "Fuuuuuck." He hissed. The text scrolling down his view wouldn't stop. It was flickering, and occasionally bringing up a picture of Elvis Presley half naked. The wrong half. Every time he tried to pinpoint their location pain laced through his head. Then, when he tried to get into a backup area- searing pain. Every muscle in his body tightened and he sucked in a sharp breath. Okay, cyborg brain gone. Could he still control his arm? He wiggled each finger separately, then realized two of them never wiggled. Damn it.

Now he ran a full system check, which thankfully didn't cause horrid burning. Locations was down and out. Translator was fine. Google like thing was on the fritz. The specific site he used for blueprints was intact, however. Scanning system intact. He read the rest the best he could before pausing and turning on the scanner, then targeted an area a mile around them. He used the working parts of shit to match blueprints and... "I'm so fucking smart." A smirk flitted onto his face. "I know where we are. And it ain't looking pretty." A moment later, he decided to... out of curiosity... scan for Jackson's face on all video footage and everything. What he found absolutely AMAZED him. "Holy shit. Norrie. Jackson's right outside. Not caught. Yet." A passing camera on a truck he hacked had just barely picked up their face, but it had. The guy was sneaking around like a toddler, doing that weird tiptoe thing, but whatever. "Why is he here!?"

"Yes Yoda quotes. Yoda is life," she grumbled indignantly. That quote fit PERFECTLY, so nobody was allowed to disagree with it. He was asking for it.

"Yuuuup," she hummed by way of lazy argument. Just be a pompous asshole and nobody would know any different.

"Um. I don't think hopelessly shattered per se, but I can't tell," she mumbled. She was actively trying not to move whatsoever, as she had the distinct and horrid feeling that the moment she did, she wouldn't be able to again for a while. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, but also if it IS broke, don't move it.

"Oh, love that for you. How fun," she said dryly. All the more reason to kick someone's - anyone's - ass. His reaction did admittedly worry her a little, however much she tried not to show it. Dammit, he shouldn't matter to her, shouldn't fuckin worry her. She didn't care all too much when Jackson got whacked upside the head, so why him, out of literally everyone she'd ever had the displeasure of working with?

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," she snorted. So fuckin smart? Wasn't it his idea to get blackout drunk in the first place? Whatever. Maybe he was making up for previous dumb, if wonderfully entertaining and much-needed, ideas. "Well good, but not good." Knowing where you were but knowing for damn sure it wasn't good wasn't all too helpful.

"Whut. No goddamn way." It was absolutely not possible that JACKSON, of all people, could avoid getting shot in a situation like this. Hell, Norrie was almost more inclined to believe someone was wearing his face like a mask after killing him just to be a sadistic asshole than anything else. Best not to get hopes up anyway, given the dude wasn't likely to get any further. He'd get caught, any and all fleeting thoughts of survival would die with him, and that'd be the end of it for them. Yippee, motherfucker.

"Hey, I'm not complaining." Axl grinned. Honestly, he was impressed. If she spouted out Yoda quotes when she got drunk, he was sneaking shots into her morning coffee. Everyone had to love a fun drunk. He was fun if he stayed in between sober and blackout drunk. He crossed the line almost all the time, though.

He closed his eyes and dragged in a slow breath, wishing he could shut off the rest of his brain as well. His body ached and he felt tired and cranky from the hangover. Nevermind everything else. That didn't even matter right now. He could barely think straight, and it felt like he was still drunk but that was NOT FAIR because he couldn't be hungover and drunk at the same time. Right? That should be impossible. He couldn't even be happy with his breakthrough, because he was too busy being in pain and sad that Jackson was their only hope besides themselves. That was no hope at all. Actually, it was minus hope, because Jackson would LIKELY do something stupid enough to get them killed immediately.

"Shuddup." He muttered, swiftly sorting through things in his mind and pinning the picture of a sliver of Jackson's face to his peripheral vision. It was that son of a bitch. How. He used the surveillance feed to glance around the rest of the compound, an unhappy grumble coming out as he realized they were in the edge of a sheer rock cliff. "Apparently, a goddamn way." He answered flatly, his shoulders slightly hunched and every muscle tight. The shirt was feeling itchy and bloody and sweaty and he was beginning to wish he had never put it on at all. He could feel the pain of his leg pestering his mind, trying to coo and seduce him into falling asleep. He had a weird feeling that he wouldn't wake up if he did, so he stayed wide awake. Axl slowly looked around the room again before returning his gaze to his leg. He didn't think he could stitch that up if he tried. And what was he supposed to do about the bone? Shove it back inside? Any human would be almost dead by now, so this was a serious injury. This was hybrid serious. As in he wasn't walking away from this serious. Dragging himself, possibly, but... walking? Maybe never again. If what he remembered was correct, this kind of wound could permanently maim a hybrid. If it didn't, it was likely because their leg had to be cut off. A queasy feeling broiled in his stomach, and he swallowed it down, feeling bile tickle the back of his throat. The smell of wet blood and sweat and grime and whatever was on the plate wasn't helping. His vision swam for a moment, like he went cross-eyed. "Mmmmm..." He moaned quietly, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop the spinning earth. "Ohhhhh no." Were his last valiant words before he passed out completely, head lolling sideways.

"Good. I'ont like complainers," she muttered. Ah, but she could be one helluva complainer herself. Damn near invented it, actually. She'd probably take credit for it, at the very least. Twas quite the skill.

"Make me," she huffed quietly. Usually that was an exchange that invoked sexual tension, but Norrie always meant it as fight me bitch, I'll knock your teeth down your throat and out your ass. Now wasn't much different, aside from perhaps a less creative threat, and more like one the thugs you'd find after dark with a third-grade reading level would spew in a sad attempt to be intimidating. Even more amusing is the fact that at least three of them look like they survive on Hot Cheetos and Coke.

"His luck never goes far," she sighed quietly, shifting slightly with a wince to rest her head against his shoulder. Even moving a few millimeters hurt like hell and made her feel what she imagined a 95-year-old great-grandma goes through.

Jackson, as a general rule, either had an insane amount of luck for a short time or none at all. Like, he'd narrowly avoid getting into a car accident without any thought, and then someone would rear-end his car while parked an hour later, followed by a parking ticket and finding out why the space below the tree full of pigeons was vacant, having to take a trip through the car wash, and then accidentally bumping the window switch and getting wall all inside the door and fucking up all the electronics.

And yet somehow he just scratched his head, shrugged, and carried on, albeit tripping and stumbling, but still. All that is to say, how he wasn't dead or locked up alongside Axl and Norrie seemed like the one decent thing to be followed by a hurricane of utter shit.

"Wha- no, don't fucking do that," she hissed. Like it did much. "Fuuuck," she groaned. Shit just kept getting better and better. Well, might as well try to be proactive while waiting - or rather, hoping - for Jackson to make it. Which meant trying to fiddle with their bindings enough to at least loosen some amount. She quickly found out that her right hand didn't much appreciate the movement. Maybe it was her wrist, or both. Either way, it meant she was stuck using her non-dominant hand in a sad attempt to blindly untie something. Not like it worked all that fantastically, but it kept her clouded mind busy.

She had no clue how much time passed, it could've been 10 minutes, could've been an hour, but she thought she caught the muffled sound of gunshots outside. She just hoped it wasn't her mind making up for the lack of noise.

A short time later, she heard it again, closer this time, and accompanied by what may have been a shouted swear. It seemed like a good sign, at the very least. Or maybe Jackson got shot and that was one of their captors hollering victoriously. Who knew.

Her initial suspicions were confirmed by a heavy thunk on the door, then a second, followed closely by Jackson stumbling in as he actually managed to kick a door open, probably the first time ever. He looked frazzled, bewildered, and possibly even showing some amount of intelligence.

"Ya'ont like me so it shouldn't be a problem." Axl pointed out, blinking slowly. His complaining was all done jokingly. She complained just as much as him if not more, so she couldn't even say that.

"I can't make you do anything. I've tried." He muttered, rolling his eyes slightly. Plus his hands were tied, and his leg was broken, so it wasn't like he could physically force her to do anything. And he knew that anything she said revolved around violence, no matter how sexual it seemed. She was a scary person overall and all her words should be taken as such.

"Lettus pray his luck involves keeping his ass alive long enough to at least tell some sad soul where we are." He grumbled. Then it could run out- he didn't care. Honestly, he was more in the moment right now. Assessing damage. Wondering if he could die from this. He recalled all the information he could remember about hybrids and what they could withstand, pondering over it. They could withstand much more than humans, but weren't invincible at all. And it was mostly because they had a much higher pain tolerance. Apparently that wasn't high enough, because damn. From what he could tell, it was a 'clean' break, and the skin was only damaged because the bone stabbed through. Well, first, he guessed. It looked like that had happened before he had been moved, because he could see dirt crusting the wound along with the blood, and tears that could've very well been from being dragged along the ground. There was a high risk of infection, which sucked, because that would kill him as well. As long as he avoided blood loss, which he wasn't at the moment according to the pool underneath him, then he could probably stay alive another couple days. At least till infection set in.

He was slowly waking to throbbing pain, well, everywhere, mostly his leg and head. There was gunshots, then a loud crash that woke him up completely, his eyes flying upward. Confusion crowded his vision as he saw Jackson. "AM I dead?" He asked in an incredulous tone. No way Jackson was actually here. Right? He twisted his head to check that Norrie was indeed there, and whaddya know, she was. He winced and tried to put himself slightly up from his slumped position, trying not to look at his leg. No need to throw up now. For some reason, he was still queasy. He had seen the inside of his own body many times, but this felt more gruesome and cruel than usual. Usually he wasn't expected to try and stay awake. Which he failed at, apparently. He twisted his wrists slightly, the rope clawing at his raw skin. "Please tell me I'm not dreaming. Or maybe tell me I am. Or something. I never realized how disgustingly not white bones were." He paused for a moment, eyes twitching. "Okay, I did realize that, but this feels... so Jackson, cut the ropes?" He blinked, wondering vaguely how he was going to get up. Maybe he could just try and force himself up? He still had arms. Could he drag himself up? Maybe. He flexed his fingers, tightening his jaw. He was pretty sure one or two of his cyborg fingers didn't move, but what the hell. He only needed his thumb and forefinger.

"Did I say that?" She asked. Well, like is a strong word, if she had to describe how she felt about him with colors, it'd be beige. If she had to describe it in a way that made sense? Too hard. Ain't gonna happen. Beige, take it or leave it. In the end, he was alright.

"He's learning," she mumbled incredulously. Learning? Maybe in the same way squirrels can learn where food is and where not to go if they want to avoid a dog or an electric fence.

"Ah, yes, let's shall. Lettuce thank You for Jackson's eggscellent streak, may he never crack under pressure or get in a real jam. When life gives him lemons, help him whip up some meringue, and when the chips are down, may he still ketchup with his dreams. Ramen," she retorted. Anything that could be taken as a double meaning absolutely would be with Norrie, so best not to say certain things just the wrong way if you hope to be spared some amount of psychological pain.

"Just brain dead," she said. It was somehow her way of saying oh thank fucking god you're not dead please don't do that again. Obviously she was a very kind, heartfelt person. "I'm gonna vote not dreaming, just because if you are, your dreams fucking suck," she said with distaste. Oh how delightful of a dream it'd be, wouldn't it? Like Alice in Wonderland, except it's Assholes in Deutschland.

"Fancy seeing you here," she mused, glancing back to Jackson. He actually listened to Axl's instructions for once, instead of looking to Norrie for directions, and knelt down, producing a pocketknife from its native land, the pocket. He managed to cause minimal damage to any flesh of all involved parties, which was a miracle given Norrie didn't trust him with safety scissors on a good day. "Not bad," she hummed. It could've been taken for thanks, or just 'well done on not cutting my damn hands off you toddler', both work.

She glanced down at her hands, noting where the ropes had rubbed the flesh raw to the point of bleeding, and decided now wasn't the time to inspect for damage. Why have to look at it and be wholly aware when you can't do anything about it? Instead, she focused her energy on re-evolving to being a bipedal mammal, which was actually quite the feat. Her legs felt rather numb and tingly, and being upright made her head seem much the same. She took a breath, steadied herself... and then caught sight of Axl's leg, and it was damn near enough to backtrack any and all progress she'd made toward standing. "That's nice," she muttered, forcing her gaze away. All she could think of was how it reminded her of a deer clipped by a truck on the road. Not helpful.

"Rightyho, up ya go," she mumbled, reaching down to help him up. It did throw a bit of a wrench in their plans - escape, don't get caught, don't die; typical tuesday shit - but was... manageable. It had to be.

"You insinuated it, considering you treat me like most other people and you greatly dislike people as a whole." Axl stated with a snort. Only partially true. He hadn't quite seen how she treated NORMAL people yet. Weird ass military people and Jackson, yes. Kwik Trip people, no.

"I do do that every once in a while." He huffed quietly, wrinkling his nose. He could learn. He just didn't want to 80 percent of the time. It was so much easier not to. Plus it was hilarious how frustrated people got when they were 99 percent convinced he COULDN'T learn.

He slowly turned his head enough to glare out from the side of his eye at the back of her head, frowning unappreciatively. "I am scowling, if you cannot see. Very displeased. I heard every annoying word." He informed her with a sniff, but honestly, a small snicker escaped anyway. Mostly at Ramen. That was so perfectly executed it physically hurt not to laugh. (Kudos to you XD. I laughed very hard)

"Oh. Haven't decided if that's good or bad." He mused. "Not the brain dead thing, that's obviously bad but expected, the not being dead." He added, not wanting their to be confusion. Obviously being brain dead was bad. Duh. He forced down another smashingly delightful wave of bile and forced himself to focus on her words instead of the leg that really shouldn't be attached to him. "My dreams DO fucking suck, and I guess they could be called nightmares then, but that would mean I don't dream. The reason? A simple: dreams just figure out what happened in a day and all that happens in my days feels a lot like this." He explained cheerfully. Okay, fake cheerfulness. Obviously. He didn't dream much, because his brain wasn't confused about what torture was, but when he did? It suuuucked. At least it usually didn't hurt.

Axl himself was a little surprised when Jackson listened, but kept his mouth shut, making a face as he heard the knife clink against metal before the ropes freed. They stuck to the literal grooves in his skin for a moment before he pulled on them and dropped them on the floor. Nooo need for those. No more ropes. Ever. Or chains. He hated chains more. He almost fell over backwards when Norrie removed herself from behind his back, managing not to by catching himself with a hand that was not prepared for that. It hurt. It fucking hurt. Why wasn't he ready? Because his brain was so dizzy and preoccupied he literally never thought about it. He just sat there for a couple seconds, adjusting to the new world, before hearing her mutter. Must've glanced at his leg. "Mmmmhmmm." He hummed, then made a face. "How 'bout I just lay here and you guys go?" He offered feebly, then gave up and shifted his weight forward, off of his arm. He braced his hands against the floor and drew one leg under him, then pushed up completely off of that leg, keeping absolutely no weight on the other. The result? Searing horrible pain. "JEeeeZUzss." He hissed, almost toppling right back over with the wave of dizziness that following. His leg was LITERALLY flopping around uselessly like a fucking puppet, and somehow that made him more sick feeling. "I apologize beforehand if I throw up." He muttered, bile creeping up his throat as he closed his eyes and attempted to stay standing on one unhappy leg. This whole time he wasn't even holding his full weight, having resorted to leaning on Norrie as much as he felt he safely could without hurting whatever injuries she may have. So not much, but enough. "I have no clue how to walk. None at all." He could CRAWL. Maybe. But walk? No. He couldn't put even an ounce of weight on that leg, nevermind a pound, or 80. It wasn't like he could use Norrie or Jackson as a walking stick.

"How do you know how I treat most people?" she countered. Quite shittily was the only correct answer. She didn't joke with most people, didn't laugh, it took a conscious effort to smile every now and then, and not injure and/or kill somebody, and she sure as hell didn't drink around other people. Really, Axl got off easy.

"Oh, lucky you. Y'know, one day you'll join the dark side and enjoy my bullshittery," she snickered. He'd come around eventually. Maybe. Norrie could be absolutely hilarious in a painful sort of way when with someone she didn't wish to dismember slowly. (why thank you xD)

"Mood," she said dryly. Dead sounded delightful right about now, but she may settle for brain-dead if need be. Couldn't be all bad if she was totally, completely gone mentally, right? "Fair enough, though I hope you don't mean to imply every day with me has been like this," she sniffed, feigning indignance. Only like... a couple days. The rest could be categorized under Did Not Die or Get Horribly Wounded And Therefore Was an Okay Day. To most people, that'd be a very lackluster, if not totally shitty day, but fuck most people. They were clueless little moles and could be used as crash test dummies for all Norrie cared.

"Ain't gonna happ'n, capp'n," she said flatly. She winced as he stood and had to stuff down the nausea that came with watching that. Bones just weren't meant to do that, it looked so fucking wrong. Jackson had slunk to the hallway, whether to watch for anyone else or avoid throwing up or both, one could only guess.

"Totally justified," she mumbled, putting one arm around his waist. "Um, very slowly and carefully?" she offered. She'd have to make up for half his walk cycle, but that was doable. Not easy, mind you, but at least Axl wasn't terribly heavy.

"Okay Jackson, lead the way," she said, and he nodded dutifully and slunk slowly down the hall. Much to his credit, it seemed he'd disposed of everyone who'd be a problem thus far. Perhaps it was possible he was evolving a bit.

Axl and Norrie soon adopted a rather unsteady, uncomfortable ambling gait, but it was forward movement, at least. Better than downward movement.

(terribly sorry it's short, my cat just barfed and I got creatures to feed >.<)