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When he comes to, it’s with a splitting pain in his head, and an uncomfortable pressure against his back. His vision swims when his eyes crack open, that all too familiar and oh so annoying voice in his ears as he awoke certainly wasn’t a pleasurable thing to experience, and the trickster’s face hung inches above his own. With a striking movement, he pushes the man back by his shoulder, and realises all at once just where he was. Resting, on the cold hard floor, with his upper body on Witt’s lap . He quickly rolls off the man, scowling like a feral cat, and he watches as the trickster holds up his hands in defense. Just how he had gotten like that was a mystery, considering they were in the middle of the game , and he never let anyone get within 5 feet of them unless it was swinging into a punch.
“Jeez, man! Chill out, I was helping!” Witt exclaims, looking nervously at him, and he bristles with distrust, remembering that if worst came to worst, he had a data knife in his boot that would be useful for a hasty escape. Not necessarily allowed in the ring, but he didn’t particularly care, truth being told. Prepared, not paranoid, and he never knew who could turn on him, teammate or not. He couldn’t be too cautious.
Tae Joon tries to wrack his brains for just what had happened, but nothing comes to mind. Mirage helps to fill in the blanks. “You passed out. I… Was worried about you for a second there, um… You all good?”
The ring was closing, and things were getting closer to disaster by the second, as far as he was concerned. Crypto was being his pissy self, and his attempts at lightening the mood between them were falling flatter than usual. Sometimes he managed to bait the hacker into engaging in some banter, keep the ratings good, you know? But no such luck today, the match was going terribly, and he just knew he was going to get it in the neck from his sponsors after this. He was their cash cow, to put it plainly, and while his main job was to look pretty, he was paid to shoot things - and say he was a “ trident true driver ”, but he hadn’t even laid eyes on a trident this entire time, so there went that plan. They were moments from the ring, not a squad in sight; and Elliott was infinitely thankful because they had no meds at all, and were still suffering from their previous escape from an enemy duo just a few moments ago. They had lost them though, thanks to some well placed bamboozles by one amazingly handsome trickster, and an EMP for good measure to assure they got the head start.
And then, Crypto collapsed.
“Oh, nonononono- C-Crypy?!” Elliott’s jaw drops almost as fast as the hacker does, tripping over his feet in his haste to get over to the downed man. The ring was still closing fast, round three, and they couldn’t afford to get caught inside. It would be the end of them. “God dammit, dude. Fuck, okay. You got this Elliott, just uh… Fuckin’...” he stutters, mind reeling as he grabs the hacker under his arms, hauling him up and beginning to drag him, clumsy and hurried in his movements, just praying a squad wouldn't see the display and decide to take an easy shot. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with the guy, but that could wait until they were safe, where he could check him over properly and decide whether or not they needed to drop out of the match. Of course, doing so would forfeit any of their possible earnings, but he didn't want the guy to die on him . At least not in the way the higher-ups and the tech people couldn't fix, and this didn't seem like a game related injury.
Settled behind a rock, Mirage debates on propping Crypto up, but decides against it. What if he was hurt? Sure, he held his own when they quipped against each other, but he didn't hate the guy. He drops to his knees and settles the hacker's body against his lap, supporting his head as he tries to figure out what could have caused the problem.
Maybe his fancy techy stuff malfunctioned? He didn’t know exactly how it worked, but he figured something as advanced as being able to pilot a drone with such little constraints had to have some internal wiring going on there, right?
It's then he spots the problem. "Fuck, kid, I thought you were supposed to be smart." He tuts, a frown tugging at his lips.
"I'm fine ." He huffs out in response, taking a second to regain his breath before attempting to stand, trying to hide the strain on his face. His ribs felt tender, and his back hurt from the fall, but he had to start moving before his body protested too deeply. He's barely taken a couple steps before Mirage is jogging up behind him, voice pinched with something he can't quite place.
"Anyone tell you you shouldn't wear that in the ring?" He asks, and Tae Joon suddenly feels helpless, like all of his defenses had been stripped away at once. He flounders for breath again, and trips over a loose sheet of metal on the ground, almost losing his footing before Mirage secures a hand around his arm to stop him.
His shirt must have slipped down when he fell, and Elliott must have seen it.
"It's none of your business." He snaps, tone full of venom as he pulls away.
"Kid, you shouldn't wear it during exercise, this is a bloodsport . What're you thinking? You'll hurt yourself."
Its then Tae Joon puts a word to the tone. Elliott was worried about him.
"What would you know?" He scowls, and Mirage shoots him a soft smile.
"Lot more than you'd think, buddy." He chuckles, and sets a hand on Crypto's shoulder. "Look, I know it feels bad, but… You gotta look after yourself." His eyes are gentle with concern, and Tae Joon feels conflicted at such kindness being shown to him.
"Whatever." He huffs, and begins walking, deciding it was best to leave things at that.
He still hated him, of course. But it seemed they were a little more similar than he had originally thought, and that was comforting in itself.