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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 0:50:41 GMT -5
"Self-destruction? This coming from the man who wasted--what--thirty years? of his life chasing after one man."
The cudgel shifted a bit as Jason adjusted his grasp, but it remained on the papers, tearing the first couple in the stack.
"Must have been one hell of a great fuck."
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 0:55:14 GMT -5
Valjean... always when relevant arguments were lacking, someone would bring up 24601. And for what? It might've taken a long time, but in the end Javert had caught his man. The capture of Jean Valjean was proof of the inspector's persistence, a triumph of will.
"I might say the same about a 'fuck' that makes one willing to drag pure scum into his bed. Or did you find the stench of alcohol to be appealing?"
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 1:02:24 GMT -5
Jason's jaw tightened and he took a quick limp-step closer, getting chest-to-chest with the older man and lifting up the weighted marble head of his cudgel to thump it against Javert's collarbone.
He opened his mouth to say something, but finished the gesture with his fist thrust into the older man's gut.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 1:07:09 GMT -5
Javert gasped in pain at the impact. Had Cluont gone utterly insane?
Whatever was the matter with the other officer, Javert wasn't about to stand there and take it.
In a few seconds the inspector recovered from the blow and launched himself at Jason, taking advantage of the other man's instability to slam him into the desk.
Right now, Javert didn't give a damn about the suddenly airborne paperwork.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 1:10:38 GMT -5
Well, he hadn't been expecting that. A return blow, perhaps, but a full on attack? Not a chance!
He grunted as he fell back into the desk, the wind knocked out of him, and winced at the angle his leg took, but now the desk offered him support (thought it swayed dangerously with it's own broken leg) and allowed him to lean back enough to get his good knee up into Javert's diaphram, one fist curling into the man's jacket and the other, cane dropped, going for his roughened jaw.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 1:18:12 GMT -5
A low growl was torn from Javert's throat as he dodged the blow, though the only way in which he could manage it was by headbutting the other man. Not a pleasant experience for either of them, but certainly better than a blow to the jaw.
As he did so, his hands grasped Cluont's throat, squeezing as the inspector gritted his teeth.
Javert opened his eyes again after closing them for the impact from Jason's forehead, his dark gaze almost burning with fierce anger.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 1:26:50 GMT -5
Jason's lighter eyes looked a bit foggy--not from the blow, likely, he'd suffered much worse--and a little trickle of blood ran down his forehead between his eyes.
He got his own arms under Javert's and returned the rude grab, pushing against Javert to get the man off him, pressing his thumb into the hollow of Javert's throat. He was certainly strong for an old man, it seemed.
When he lifted his good knee a second time to push Javert off him, the desk creaked and cracked and collapsed, sending them both to the floor, Jason on his back under the other policer and the weight of Javert's considerable bulk landed poorly onto his already twisted leg making his grind out a cry of pain between his grit teeth and sending white flashes across his vision.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 1:34:29 GMT -5
The collapsing desk only drew a groan from Javert, who was lucky to be on top. This way, Jason took most of the impact. It was a good rule of thumb in any fight. When it went to the ground, try not to be the man at the bottom.
Years of experience in immobilizing suspects made Javert's next action almost an automatic reflex.
The inspector shifted, moving his body and relocating his weight in such a way that he could pin the younger man to the floor. He wasn't about to be taken by surprise. Pain could, after all, be faked quite easily.
Finally he looked down at Cluont, panting slightly.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 1:38:06 GMT -5
"Get off me, you damned gorilla!" he snarled, wriggling and shoving at the other man in an attempt to get to his injured leg.
And injured it was--there was blood blooming on the white of his uniform trousers just below the specially tailored snaps around his mid-thigh, already soaking the inside of his leg and staining Javert's own pants.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 1:43:08 GMT -5
"I shall do no such thing until you recover your manners... after all, I believe an apology is still in order." Javert's dark eyes looked deep into Jason's lighter ones, demanding an assertion of his dominance. "And you didn't say 'please'," the inspector added, almost in a growl.
Cluont had been the one who had made this encounter physical, now the man would have to bear the consequences.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 1:47:42 GMT -5
Certainly, there would be no vocal apology forthcoming; Jason was too proud for that. Instead, his eyes stayed locked on the other man's and he relaxed his body, though his leg twitched and continued to bleed.
The injury was quite severe, in actuality. The brace had snapped at the knee with the fall and the metal plate that jointed the inside of the knee had been rammed upward and skewered into Jason's thigh, where it was still embedded and sticking downward, leaking blood onto the floor under him.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 1:59:46 GMT -5
Good enough... if only because Cluont was at present also ruining Javert's uniform. Javert liked this uniform.
The inspector got up carefully, he didn't want to cause any other damage. Well, not at the moment, anyway.
As he slowly regained his composure, Javert also regained his calm. It was now rather obvious Cluont had been quite badly hurt and in spite of being an important part of the cause of his colleague's injury, the inspector knelt down next to him.
"I'm no doctor, Jason," he said softly, using the man's first name, which was an event in itself. "But that doesn't look good."
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 2:06:59 GMT -5
He lifted his head up to look down at the mess of his leg and growled.
"Damnit."
After a couple of deep breaths to brace himself against the pain, he sat up, teeth grit, face red, carefully undid the snaps around his trouser leg, pushing the loose piece of fabric down carefully. The metal was pushed into his leg, into what remained of the muscle above his knee about two inches, not the worst injury he'd ever had but it was painful as well, and bleeding profusely. He sighed, putting a hand to his forhead for a moment before carefully unstrapping the false limb, opening the buckles and grumbling to Javert.
"Reach down there below the knee and unscrew the upper plate. Carefully."
The plan was to get the plate, which was burried in his leg, separated from the rest of the leg so he could take the limb off and, hopefully, pull the metal out of his flesh without worry about jostling it more.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 2:17:49 GMT -5
Of course he was going to be careful. What else was he supposed to do? Just try to pull it all apart? Cluont could be such a dolt at times.
Yet, at the same time, Javert could not help but feel a bit of admiration. There were plenty of lesser men in the world who'd cry, whine and whimper about an injury like this. Thankfully, Jason was being a proper policeman about the entire thing, taking the pain without too much of a fuss. It was a quality Javert could definitely appreciate in the man.
The inspector moved a bit so that his colleague could lean against him if he needed to before reaching below the other man's knee, gingerly getting a feel for the mechanism so he could avoid causing any unnecessary pain or discomfort.
Once he knew what to do, Javert made quick work of the unscrewing process.
"There you go..." he mumbled.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 2:25:37 GMT -5
Jason grunted and pushed the false limb off, setting it aside in a clumsy heap and leaving him with only about twenty centimeters to manage. He shifted--causing a flash of pain that made him grab onto Javert's upper arm for a moment--and settled again, wadding up the lower portion of his snapped-off trouser leg and pressing it with grit teeth against the wound.
He'd need stitches, it was certain, but what was he going to tell a doctor, or the Prefect for that matter, that he and Javert had gotten into a fight? One or likely both of them would be disciplined. Must as he didn't care the man, he had no desire to see his record marred.
"Bring me something to sew it up with, will you? And some spirits--Courfembel has some in his desk drawer."
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