A New Direction: Part 4
A brand mission, a brand new world where many things are not as they same and thier true objective is not even known to them.
PART FOUR
Querion raised an eyebrow, and patted Timber's hand comfortingly. She did not look very happy. In fact, she was incensed.
"Cooking? COOKING? Why do you go and have all the fun, when I have to do the cooking? Doesn't this ship have its own cooks...?"
The wolf-bot winced slightly at his girlfriend's outburst. Timber wasn't usually like that. Maybe except when she was extremely angry. Querion rubbed the bruise on his head, still hurting though it was starting to fade. It was never good when she became mad.
"I never heard that swear before," raised Querion, after a string of hideous-sounding vulgarities escaped the she-wolf's mouth.
"That's because i was saving them, for situations like this!" she retorted, crossing her arms irritably. The frown on her face suddenly softened, and the furrows of her brows melted away. She looked at Querion, and said, "I'm sorry. It's just that, this is so not me. I'm not supposed to stay in the kitchen. You remember that time you tried to make me do that? I-"
"Shh!" Querion looked around, a little embarassed. It was not a particularly happy memory. Most probably one of their worst fights. "I know how you feel. Heck, I'd have reacted the same way if I had to peel potatoes. Don't look at me like that. I didn't mean to rub it in."
Timber smiled wickedly at her beau. "So long as you eat up your veggies, I guess you'll be 'all right'," she said, adding a very ambiguous wink.
Querion gave her a weak smile. He'd probably opt for take-out in days to come.
Burnout stretched and rested his feet on the console. The ship was on auto-pilot, so he had little to do at this point.
"Hey Kid-o." He waved to Phyphen. "C’mere."
The young fox-bot smiled brightly trotted over. Burnout patted the Nav. chair next to his and she hopped on.
(Burnout gave her some piloting lessons during those two years aboard the Xavior, she knew a bit about piloting before, so he just taught her a little about Navigating and a few evasive maneuvers)
"Think you can fly this tub" He asked, hoping to teach her a few things about large-ship navigation.
Rita raised her hand. With a sigh Gaul pointed at her. He anticipated this particular crewmember was going to make a point of being a large, sore, pain in the skid plate.
When Rita spoke it was in a voice so leaden it could have sunk battle ships and with an edge that could slice steel like salami.
“Why,” she began, the words slid out of her mouth and over the floor to menace the two commanders with claw-like conjunctions, “Are all the crew members working in the mess hall female?”
“Rita.” Burnout said, just before disappearing into the ship with Phyphen, “I don’t think that’s…”
“I want to know our commanders’ reasoning as to the decision,” Rita said in a disturbingly serene voice, “I’m confident they have a good explanation for this enigma that doesn’t center itself around aging stereotypes.”
The cat bird shrugged and went off to do the above post. Catfish stood beside Rita and watched everyone with great interest.
Phyphen plunked herself down beside Burnout. As her eyes flitted across all the buttons and dials, a smile crept across her face.
Trying to recall all those *long* days in the ship with Burnout, she placed her hands on the controls - letting the feel of control flood into veins.
Turning back to Burnout, she shook her head.
"Maybe later... not right now. I'll watch you."
"Strictly by chance, Those who didn't have a specific duty already were drawn for the duty." This was far from true but the truth is Gaul didn't even notice while picking but wasn't about to tell her that. He didn't like her very much....
Relic raises a clawed hand, “I can cook,” he pauses for a moment, surprised at some of the shocked looks he is getting. “Since I’m assistant assistant security officer, I figure I might have a little extra time on my hands, I’ll help out in the mess as needed.
Listening to the conversation Rubmur grabbed one of Weede’s arms and then walked over to Rita.
“I agree Miss,” Rubmur said placing his hand on her shoulder, “I mean why are both Assistant Janitors males? Don’t you agree Weede?”
Weede was gazing forward looking at Rita.
“Mess hall, food, man I am hungry like the wolf.” Weede said, not moving his attention.
“See, now you’re getting it!” Rubmur shouted joyously, “Quote some more song lyrics.”
“Huh?” Weede replied.
Rita frowned at Relic for two reasons. Firstly, she’d far rather have an excuse to actively persecute Gaul than have the matter settled peacefully. Secondly, the image of Relic standing in a kitchen wearing an apron and baking a tray of muffins that flickered through her mind struck her as fundamentally wrong.
She paused to consider and decided she really didn’t need an excuse to hate her commander’s guts, it was her given right as Rita.
“Sounds good. Who the pit are you?” She asked Rubmur in a voice that sounded positively sweet in comparison to the one she’d been aiming at Gaul.
Disappointed that Weede wasn’t humming the Durran Durran song in his mind, Rubmur turned his head towards Rita.
Me?” Rubmur asked, placing his hand on his chest plate between the Napster and Maximal insignias, “Why I am Rubmur,” after stating his name Rubmur twirls around in a circle, ending up where he began, “Dancer connoisseur, master of hand to hand combat, and pleased to meet you…”
“Rita,” Rita replied slightly smiling at Rubmur’s twirl, “And you’re now apart our team?”
Rubmur scratched the back of his head for a moment before responding.
“Yeah, I think so. I’m not too terribly sure, you see I joined right before the whole trial thing along time ago,” Rubmur said, “and then I got a big vacation before receiving a letter to come back here. I’m on the team, but I don’t really know anyone besides Weede here.” Rubmur said placing his arm around Weede.
"Alright, that's enough!" said Caska, rather loudly, "I've heard about enough absurdity in this meeting. Now, let me understand this.." She looked at Relic. "You."
"Yes?"
"Are a cook?"
"Yes."
"You wouldn't rather... train and brood day and night in wait for your next opportunity to kill in battle?"
"No," Relic said, with a bit of hesitation, "Who are you? You weren't in the Resistance."
"No, but I was at your trial. I am Caska, and this is my soon to be very bored servant, Mephitis."
Meeting Hall…
Jungle sat with his feet propped up on the table. Considering the amount of disorderly conduct going on, Jungle was amazingly calm. His muscles weren't even tense. He was talking - no one was listening - he really didn't seem to care.
He was reading the names of those 'bots in his squad and their assignments. This information was obviously outdated as everyone had all ready gotten a hold of the information somehow. Plus Relic had seemingly traded posts…
Along the way Jungle quietly commented on how it was interesting to him how the leader of the Endport resistance was now the second in command's second in command. He also quietly wondered if the tales he heard about Catfish had truth to them. The dark warrior had never had a real encounter with the fuzor, but from what he'd heard about the living legend; she was a 'very interesting character.' Anyone near Jungle who was listening to him would of heard these comments. Though like I said there was a lot of commotion going on which equals distractions.
"… and so all I really have to say to my janitorial staff is; everyone expects clean bunks and fresh sheets each and every night. Commander Gaul must really think highly of you three 'bots, after all he put you where the action is." That entire comment was coated with a bit of sarcasium - even the part about clean bunks and sheets - but you'd have to know Jungle's voice in order to pick that up… wasn't real obvious…
Setting the pad down, the panther spins around in his chair, putting his back to the group. JJ thought it best that everyone freely got all their concerns and complaints out now. In the dark warrior's humble opinion, it would prevent problems in the long run… there was a time and a place for everything, even stern/harshness.
Jungle was forced to chuckle to himself over the thought of Relic wearing an appron as well. Jungle knew of Relic from reputation only - true - but still the fellow panther in an appron really didn't seem to fit his MO. Guess prision really does make you soft, Jungle concludes...
“Hello!”
Jungle glanced down and saw there was a small blue bot standing in front of him where there had not been a small blue bot moments before. He nodded acknowledgement and waited for her complaint.
“Are you Jungle?”
“Yes.”
She squinted at him for a moment, “Where are your trees?”
“My what?”
“Your trees.” She repeated, “Jungles have trees don’t they? They also have parrots. Parrots are funny and loud, I had one once, but she’s in another dimension now. Jungles also have monkeys. Do you have monkeys?”
“No. My name is Jungle. I am not actually a jungle.” He explained.
“Oh, well that’s a silly thing not to be.” Catfish informed him pleasantly, “I think being a jungle would be fun. You get to have plants and flowers and all sorts of interesting animals running around inside of you. I bet it tickles.” She paused for moment, apparently flipping over her train of thought to another track entirely, “Do you know how to play hopscotch?”
"You are going to cook?" asked Querion, an eyebrow raised, his eyes mixed with ludicrous amusement and disbelief. Timber's expression mirrored his. Relic cooking was definitely something they hadn't expected.
"Yeah," shrugged the assassin.
"Guess you have some help chopping and dicing," smiled the wolf-bot. Timber did not look particularly appeased. But it was an opportunity for her and Relic to catch up on old times; she had missed him, especially in their two-year hiatus from the field.
"Seems you've changed your mind about combat. Wish I could do the same." Querion smiled weakly, and pointed towards Jungle. "Got to go report, have a good time in the kitchens." The wolf-bot walked off, his spark churning with envy, mixed with a tinge of regret. Why couldn't he put down the sword like Relic? To protect? Or just to satisfy his adrenaline rush? Was it all a lie? And Relic wasn't fighting; Querion had been looking forward to sparring with his friend again. The wound on his arm left by a bone splinter from one of Relic's less "agreeable state of minds" had all but healed, but the dent was still there.
Querion rubbed his arm contemplatively. "Another time perhaps."
Relic looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wouldn’t say I AM a cook so much as I CAN cook. I live by myself, and certainly don’t have the money to eat out all the time, I’ve learned a few things.” Not even aware of it his wrist rested comfortably on the hilt of his Katana as he continues in his soft voice. “As for combat… I’m not going to leave Querion high and dry; I’ll fulfill all my assigned duties it’s just…” Relic paused, suppressing a shudder as he remembers a few of Timber’s toxic attempts at cooking back in the Resistance’s days in the forests of Gaiana. “I thought they might be able to use,” Relic pauses as he tries to come up with a diplomatic response, “an extra dish-washer.”
Vinoc was rather intriged by the rank he had been given. He walked up to Jungle, and said to him "You'd be Jungle if I am correct. Well, I'm rather intriged by the choice in ranks, a good portion of us have combat experiance, even if it isn't listed in the information on the Resistance. Although I'm sure it's listed in my profile... I did lead one of the two most promenint gangs in Endport, and did so for a good sixty Stellar Cycles. Now, I'm not sure how familure you are with gang structure, but no one leads a gang that long without being one of the meaniest S.O.B.'s in the area."
"Mr Vinoc are we sposed to be scared now." Gaul said standing behind him having a good size advantage. Most of the room stopped talking hearing Gaul confronting the soilder. Gaul looked over his pad for a minute and then shook his head. "Hmmm no we don't have a postion for big Tough Guy officer... " Some of the crew laughed making jokes on the now steaming Vinoc. Gaul had a bit of a minor stare down before turning away for a minute.
"I am a very easy commander to get along and i know that most of you are not used to Military structure. The resistance was a pure Guerilla operation, a great one at that but since this is a offical Op there will be organization ON this SHIP!" Gaul looked over the crew for a minute. Don't Always judge a book by its cover. "Now if you so choose you can switch with another soilder duties if you turn in a request to myself or Jungle and we allow it. COmmand is command and if you have a problem there is an Airlock two hallways down." Gaul let his last statement sink in but then cast a smile.
"YOu all have 2 megacycles to get settled before you have to worry about anything. If you have any questions ask me or Jungle. Dismissed." Gaul said walking over to Jungle and sitting down next to him. "Interesting Crew." He said. Jungle let off a laugh which may have been with him or at him.
Buckshot leaned against a wall, arms folded. Upon first glance, one might have assumed that his was a posture of rebellion, of brooding, of steadfast refusal to interact or allow himself to become emotionally attached because the world had violated him and he would violate them back!!!
Then, they'd take a second glance, and see he was sleeping. His head had tilted back against the wall and his optics were dark, and his chest rose and fell serenely as he dozed. How he could sleep standing up, was a mystery to anyone who didn't want to buy him a beer and ask.
He dreamt...
Buckshot's head snapped to the right and he flopped to the canvas, mechfluid dribbling from his nose. The roar of the crowd pounded at his audio receptors, the bright lights above burned into his optics, the coolant sweat staining the mat wet the side of his face.
The big Predacon above danced around, boxing gloves coupled over his hands. He wore an abundance of gold jewelry and had a big metallic mohawk.
"Oh yeah! Who da man! I pity the fool who gets in da ring wit me!" he yelled, dancing around, as the crowd cheered.
"-6! 7!" the referee Bot was yelling.
Why bother? He was beat. Buckshot's weary optics travelled over the crowd. He would be allowed to rest soon. Then, he saw her.
Mimi looked at him from the crowd, pushing through the cheering Bots.
"Bucky! Bucky!!!" she yelled.
"MIMI!!!" Buckshot cried, and surged to his feet just as the referee had reached nine. "Eye of the Tiger" began streaming in from the PA system as Buckshot pounded his opponent with hard lefts and rights. Mechfluid and spittle flew from his mouth as the crowd's frenzy grew with each blow. The big Bot was reeling, and the world reverted into slow motion as Buckshot spun and hit a huge uppercut into the Bot's jaw. The Bot tumbled to the mat, bouncing twice before he settled, and the crowd rose in ovation as the bell rung.
"Your WINNAH...BUCKY BALBOA!!!" the ring announcer cried.
Fans rushed the ring, Mimi among them. An American flag was draped over Buckshot, which was odd because they were on Cybertron and not Earth, but in the glory of the moment he was willing to ignore this inconsistency. Mimi rushed into his arms as he pumped his gloved fists into the air.
"I did it!!! I did it!!!" he yelled as he was handed a massive trophy...
"I did it...I did it..." Buckshot mumbled in his sleep, unaware that at least two or three Bots were watching him oddly.
------------
Weede snorted and blew out a puff of acrid smoke.
"Shyeah, we're buds." he told Rita. "We gonna be janitors, dude! We gonna go around, with our squeegies, shyeah, and dudes will be like, hey this window is dirty, and we'll be like, no prob man! Wipey wipe, wipey wipe! And we spin the squeegies around and stick them in those gun-pocket things, shnikty-snooch! We will rock you!"
"Hey, another song lyric!" Rubmur exclaimed.
Rita blinked at them.
"I weep for our general state of cleanliness from here on in." she said simply.
Jungle's chuckle was neither with or against Gaul in reality. Jungle just found a bit of amusement in the entire situation as a whole. Jungle had commanded small units before… but he roots were in the independent operative arena. This resulted in the dark warrior having a more 'passive leadership style' - when the situation called for it, he'd grab the reins and hold them tight. Otherwise, well, what just happened, happened. IE; Jungle just taking a seat when the prior commotion erupted; not forcing his team into compliance with his motions to exit the room and go to another. Some would interpret this as a sign of 'weakness'. Not the case. Hard to truly explain, you'd just have to know Jungle and know his high mission success rate…
Spinning in his chair once more, the ex-slug came face to face with Catfish once more. Jungle was inwardly surprised that she was still there, after all the last bit of commotion with Vinoc distracted the dark warrior for a cycle or so. One of the things the cat hated the most was would be tough guys getting in his face. He had to work hard at suppressing his urges to just 'hurt' the 'bot right then and there. There was a time for everything…
Catfish blinked at Jungle several times then proceeded to speak. “Do you know how to play hopscotch?” She repeated, sounding much like a young child eager to know everything about the world they live in. That fact is probably what prevents Jungle from having a more stern reaction toward the fuzor - historically Jungle had a great tolerance toward children. Yes indeed there was a reason for that, but that would take a fic to explain and damn it, I just finished writing one.
Jungle shakes his head back and forth. "No." A truthful statement. "Care to show me?" Jungle asks, rising from his seat. Jungle actually was greatly curious about Catfish. He'd heard a lot of stories as I mentioned previously. So since she was in his squad, this was a perfect time for the dark warrior to form his own opinions about her…
Motioning for Catfish to follow him, Jungle makes his way out of the room. On his way out, one of his hand sword extends, purposely knocking over a pitcher, filled with liquid. Jungle however pretends to look shocked - though anyone could tell the cat was insincere. Looking to Vinoc, Jungle says the following; "Be a dear and clean that up would'ya." Concluding with a smile, Jungle completes his trek out of the room, pausing just outside in order to wait for Catfish to catch up…
…
That may not have been the best of all possible metaphors, but you get the idea. Have patience with us poor, simple players.)
Jungle didn’t have to wait long. Catfish walked out of the room right after him then turned to face the panther with a stern expression of disapproval.
“That was wrong.” She said in a voice that indicated she was being patient with her commander and was capable of continuing to be stubbornly patient for a long time, “You aren’t supposed to leave messes for other people to clean up, it’s rude. I think you should go clean that up.” She paused to consider and decided she was being to harsh, “I’ll help if you want.”
Now the memories came back. Penji remembered these guys. A large assortment of dark, tortured warriors and goofballs. None of which would be any fun to kill. Darn.
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