milliways_bar | (no subject)

When he wakes up, it's to find himself lying on a bed in a room he doesn't recognize-- but it's a matter of seconds at most for him to realize that he's in a hospital somewhere.

(gurney bloody hands let me out snarling faces out restraints let me out man with a broken arm let me out let me out out OUT)

No-- not a hospital. Even as every muscle tenses, Frank recognizes the difference-- this is an infirmary. A clinic, somewhere.

(trial drugs let me out screams and blood experiment gone wrong death)

Something's happened, and he's not sure what. He can't remember. Cautiously, Frank turns his head to one side. There are a few other people here, that he can see, and a man-- (nurse?) --with his back toward Frank, talking quietly with one of them.

Frank takes advantage of their distraction to slip from the bed and then out the infirmary door, at which point he realizes two things. First, he's at Milliways. Secondly, the sheer level of sound from the conversations taking place in the bar is for some reason nearly overwhelming.

He takes a steadying breath, and then moves carefully through the room to the lake door.

It's much quieter outside. Frank gives a sigh of relief and starts slowly for the shore.

[Not plotlocked, but any and all threads are automatically millitimed to well in advance of this one right here. Oh, and on that note? Warning for, uh, probable violence in that thread. Thanks!]

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Sound carries near water, and it's enough to draw Frank's attention.

He pauses, watching the young man-- braided hair aside, that's a masculine voice.

Idly juggling three stones in his left hand, Duo crouches briefly to scan the ground for more. Braid is right, it drags on the ground. He looks up at the sight of someone watching.

He tilts his head and raises a hand in greeting. "Am I interfering with your view?" The grin that follows is genial.

"It's a big lake."

His voice is rough, gravel-filled-- and amused.

"And you're saying I'm not big and tough enough to block anything, huh?" Duo puffs up his chest and tries to make himself look bigger for about...ten seconds.

(He hasn't stopped juggling, either.)

Then he lets out his breath. "Yeah, well. You'd be right."

"Not that big."

He smiles, a little.

"It'd make life awkward, I'd think, if you were."

"Could be fun," he says, imagining himself the size of a mobile suit. Able to leap tall buildings in a single...er, step.

"Tough to fit inside anything but a hangar, though. Might make my job easier!" Stepping on the bad guys and claiming you just didn't see them to get you off. Excellent plan.

Frank blinks.

"You must have quite a job."

"You have no-"

Duo pauses, and gives the other man a longer look.

"Well. You might, at the moment. Have a rough night?" It's a leading question, but innocent enough.

"Something like that."

That much he knows simply because of how he feels, not to mention his wounded hands, even if he can't remember anything about it.

"As for my job-- I do some consulting." A beat. "Frank Black, by the way."

He'd usually offer to shake hands, but.

"Duo Maxwell. Being fifty feet tall and able to step on people would make my job easier 'cause I'm a Preventer."

Hey look, he's got ID tonight! Duo flips it out into view. "I'm guessing you don't mean like computers or interior decorating."

"Nice to meet you." Frank looks the ID over, curiously.

"Not computers, no. Law enforcement."

"Same here. International and colony police force. Your go-to people for all acts of terrorism, drug rings, assassinations, and industrial sabotage! Or rescuing kittens from trees."

He tucks the card away.

"Mind if I ask what you get consulted about?"

You never know when second opinions might come in handy, even if they're from other universes.

"Violent crimes, mostly. Serial killers; sexual homicide, that sort of thing."

Something tightens in his face, lines deepening.

(tick)

"Tough job, man." There's no pity in his tone, but definitely sympathy. Duo doesn't usually deal with victims. He puts bad guys away or puts them down as necessary. But intense and violent crimes that are personal, he has little experience with.

"But it's work someone's gotta do. And if you can, well. I'd buy you a drink for that."

"Another time, maybe. It's a bit loud in there tonight."

Frank studies him.

"International, you said. INTERPOL?"

A place can rarely be too loud, for him. Unless it's an industrial factory or the engine of a space cruiser. Too quiet is much easier.

"Same idea," Duo says, nodding. "But I'm a good hundred years too late for INTERPOL. Preventers is actually the name, not just what we do. It's AC- that's After Colony 199 for me."

(crash of mechanical equipment flash of fire)

Frank closes his eyes for a second, and then gives a small nod.

"I misunderstood before, then. Sorry."

"No worries, man. Different words, all that. I kinda wish we'd still had them around, would have been easier to make the transition than straight from mostly military rule."

Ahhh, OZ and the Alliance. How Duo still hates you, despite that both have been defunct for years.

"Transition to what?"

"Transition to like, elected bodies of government instead of a select group of military grinding the colonies under their boot heels. Taxes most people couldn't afford, supply blockades, all the normal stuff in a war for independence."

He tosses one of the stones out into the water with more vehemence than strictly necessary.

Frank rubs absently at one temple.

(this is who we are)

"Sounds difficult."

"It was a little while ago, now. Not that anyone's forgotten, but we hold our own."

He looks askance at Frank.

"You're looking a little green around the gills, man. Inside might be too noisy, but you wanna sit down or something?"

"No, I'm okay -- it's just been... odd."

(static camera man clawing out his eyes screaming)

"A headache. It'll pass."

"Mmhm. And I'm quitting my job to tour the world in a ensemble karaoke group." Duo starts digging in his multiple pockets.

"What is it about law enforcement that turns mostly reasonable people into knuckleheads when it comes to their own health? I see it's not a phenomenon limited to my world. If you're on a mission, it's one thing if you complain about every splinter, but in a non-combat situation- ah, here we go."

He waves a packet of painkillers at Frank. "Sorry, I don't usually carry around glasses of water."

He holds up a hand to stave off the offer.

"Thanks, but no. I don't even like to take aspirin, I'm afraid."

Frank's smiling, a little.

"I'll be fine. Really."

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maxwellsdemon02 - 2007-05-28 06:29 (UTC) - Expand

gifted_profiler - 2007-05-28 06:35 (UTC) - Expand