Another story featuring Thatcher~ Set in the same continuity as all the previous Rainbow Six stories. Just a little bit of macro micro fun and friendly verbal abuse~

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Getting Kicks

Markus' eyes were set on a pair of massive military boots looming over him on either side like the supports of a large building. Up above he could feel Thatcher's watchful gaze boring into him even through the mask the giant operative wore. The human was just sort of waiting for Thatcher to come up with something, something that would most likely put the little guy in grave danger for the sake of Thatcher getting a few kicks out of it.

And as Markus saw one titanic hand reaching down and grabbing Thatcher's left boot by the heel to yank it off, he knew the time had come.

"Y'know, I bet you're getting’ a real kick outta this. Bugger smaller than my tea cakes at my boots just waitin’ for me to take them off?" Thatcher grumbled. He tugged once at his boot, smoothly pulling it off of his foot with a singular well-practiced motion. He let it drop down to the ground, sending a shockwave through the floor over the human. A thick smell flooded the area near the little guy, emanating from the inside of the boot and the dirty socks that were currently being stretched by the operator's flexing toes. It smelled of leather and heavy musk. Thatcher leaned onto his knees, the large blank eyes of the gas mask staring down onto the micro. "Well... what are yah waitin’ for?"

Thatcher then reached down, not letting Markus even respond. His thick, gloved fingers wrapped around the little guy. With a flick of the wrist, he tossed Markus into the opening of the boot, before lifting it up and sending him even deeper into it, towards the toe. "Woulda thought that a creep like yourself would have been all over my boots the second I took ‘em off. Get to cleaning tosser, before I toss you out of a window." The operative threatened before allowing the boot to fall right back on the floor.

Markus tumbled deep into the boot, hearing Thatcher's commands clearly despite the ruckus of leather shifting around him and the hot atmosphere within the boot that dulled his senses a little. With a grunt the human got up, scouring the immediate area, just around where Thatcher's toes would normally rest. He spotted a good few bits of lint lying about, all of which he promptly picked up and shoved in his mouth one after another. He then made his way back under the opening and looked up to see Thatcher's emotionless masked face staring at him intently. Markus got on all fours, bringing his face to the faded spot on the insole where Thatcher's heel rested all the time.

The operative sat back, rolling his eyes behind the black glass with his arms crossed. He watched the whole affair from above, seeing Markus do exactly as he described, and all the micro would taste would be boot and sweat. Once Markus was completed, or at least, Thatcher thought he had spent enough time drenching his boot in pathetic amounts of spittle, he picked up the boot and tipped it over, sending Markus tumbling into the other one for more cleaning. "Looks like you don't even know just how pathetic you're being down there, groveling and gobblin’ up every bit of tat down there in the boot. Christ mate, I've stepped on cockroaches with more dignity than yourself."

"Please.... Please don't kill me?" The little man pleaded, as if he were asking Thatcher for a favor rather than begging for his life. The little guy would then bring his face down to the insole and begin to lick, in the most pathetic and humiliating display he could manage.

"Fookin hell... if I did I'd be doing you a favor!" Thatcher seemed actively repulsed by all of this. His scoff muffled through the mask, and he knocked the boot over with his heel, causing Markus to tumble out of it. "I can't guarantee you'll make it out in one piece. It's just so fookin’ easy to crush ya wankers. I mean, at this point it wouldn't even be my fault if I stepped on you.”

Tossed out into the open once more, Markus shivered, the air outside of the humid musky boot feeling cold and unwelcoming as the human picked himself up off the floor and sat up in front of the titan. "W-well..." He paused, fierce blush coloring his face as Thatcher called him out. "If it is my fate to die by your hand... or uhh... foot, sir. Then I accept it as an honor!" The human bowed down before the old brit, his forehead touching the floor as he waited for Thatcher to pass his judgment or, as it were, decide he'd had enough fun. "But please, sir. If I can... Be of any use at all, if there's ever a task I can do for you. I beg of you, please keep me! But if not... then...I only humbly request that you allow me to perish in the creases of your flesh, please sir." The little human, his mind clouded with last, begged as he once again looked up at his God.

"For fo- you're not supposed to want that!" Thatcher's gloved hand smacked his mask in confusion, and he shook his head, instead simply laughing at the affair. He reached a toe towards Markus as he bowed, the tip of it sliding under his chin and forcing him to look up. The giant leaned in, his mask growing in size as he came closer. The big eyes of it stared at him expressionlessly. "Don't bow at me yah weirdo. I'm not the bloody queen."

With that, he gave his foot a bit of a jab, pushing Markus onto his back and sending him sliding a few feet. Though it was more like a few inches for Thatcher. He then brought his heel over Markus, letting it gently rest its heavy weight on the little guy's belly, making it rather difficult to breathe. "Yah see, it's really hard to find any use for you actually... Not surprising considering your lack of stature. Instead I gotta go through the trouble of crushin’ you out of existence? Well... it wouldn't be hard at least. Hell I might have already broken your fookin’ spine with my heel."

"N-nah!" Markus grunted, beaming a smile at... well in the general direction of Thatcher's head anyway, since his entire vision was covered up by nothing except for Thatcher's all-encompassing socked sole. "My spine is intact, sir!" He exclaimed and shifted a little beneath the man's heel. "A-and well.... Fuze seems to appreciate my presence as an... amusement, sir. If that counts for anything. B-but... heheh... Sorry for being uhh... so into this. But I can't help myself! Being so easily dominated, looking up to your awe-inspiring massive form, being tossed around by your toes it... All of it brings me so much joy, sir!"

"Yeah yeah, spare me the worship talk. I've been doing this for a long time pipsqueak. You tinies never change... though you're certainly the most into it if I've ever seen." Thatcher seemed to warm up to Markus a bit, now that the groveling had... well it certainly hadn't subsided. Thatcher reached down, pulling Markus from under the foot, making sure to drag the little guy along the surface of the sole to deliberately tease him further. Soon Markus was sat in the open palm, fingers curled up behind him as the gasmask bore down on him, towering over his body with ease. "Ahhh… I guess I'd better not break you if I hadn't already then. Can't imagine Fuze would be too happy about me breakin’ his toys. Care to try your luck with cleaning my boots same time next week though? ...If you survive around base for that long."