(no subject)

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

((This is Millitimed to right after the aftermath of this.))

There’s a growling Captain Lennox staking through the bar, out the door, and straight to Wells’ punching bag on the grounds. He is in full BDUs today, armed, and swearing under his breath between growls. The base does not need this blossoming mood and thankfully he’s just gotten off duty to deal with it.

Someone is not happy with the aftermath of the Space Bridge Rescue. Sure he was briefed to the fact that there were two Autobots in danger, that there were others coming to build a gateway – a Space Bridge – in the desert from Milliways… but he wasn’t informed to exactly what the nature of the danger was. And so he got a most unpleasant surprise…

-- “Ironhide, the HELL?! What the fuck happened out there?” --

It’s not like he’s angry at Ironhide for being injured so badly. Hazards of the job and that. It happens. It doesn’t however mean he has to like it, just the same as he never likes it when one of his fellow human comrades is wounded in the line of duty.

And Ironhide is a friend.

-- “… just tell me the other guy looks worse…” --

It is, however, deeply frustrating and worrying. Worrying because the guy’s not dead from he understands and that means there’s an enemy out there, licking his wounds, and waiting for a chance to strike back… no telling when or where. Worrying because now it might be personal for this guy and that Ironhide might need to watch his back - and damn, the mech might not escape with just a mauling next time! Worrying, because he’s now starting to hear of another guy, this One, given what Lissar said, who seems to be the equivalent of their damn devil, and who knows how much else that he hasn’t been told. There’s a difference between need to know and want to know, after all. Lennox understands need to know… accepts it.

But he doesn’t always have to like it either.

The frustrating part of this is that if – when- the time comes for a rematch, Lennox might not be able guard his friend’s back when he needs it most. Aside from something happening when Ironhide’s out of range and reach of help, he’s far too aware of his own limitations. He’s human, vulnerable, and just by himself - trained soldier or not - likely a liability when it comes to a clash between titans. Backed up is perhaps a different story -depending on terrain, the backup, and the element of surprise. He couldn’t take down Blackout without a couple F-22s, his team, a motorcycle, and a lot of luck. Blackout took the whole of SOCCENT, and its highly trained Special Ops soldiers, out easily by surprise.

It’s that feeling of helplessness at the heart of it. Lennox does not like it one bit. There’s a good deal of just wanting to punch in that fragger’s face too… but that… that’s a hell of a lot less disturbing.

So, punching bag. Fists. A good therapeutic pounding.

Bother at your own risk.

[OOC: Slowtimes in effect]

Comments

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Spoon has his own issues, but they're mostly based around an upcoming fight, an upcoming proposal, and an upcoming full moon. He's on his way to his own pell, which is set up at a distance from Richard Ryan's set, but he does stop to get a good sniff of the human at the punching bag.

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

Lennox is growling, as we've said. Low, practically wolf like growls, between some of the vilest curses known to man or machine.

(What wasn't in his vocabulary already, was cheerfully filled in by just listening to Ratchet, Ironhide, and some of the others around base)

He's growling and hitting the bag brutally and professionally, imagining the result with each hit. Here crunches a jaw, there breaks a few ribs... that sort of thing. Finally he pauses, feeling eyes on him, and looks around for his watcher.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Spoon...really, really can't help it, this close to the full moon. The growling gets a response, and while Lennox is doing a very good wolf impression...Spoon is a werewolf. The rumbling out of his chest is exactly what a hundred and eighty pound wolf would make and should the human look in that direction the braided, scarred up man is fairly obviously attempting to stop his instinctual reaction.

Eventually he manages, "Sorry. Territory thing. That's me da's bag."

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

Lennox's growling stops for the moment, and he blinks. That's some real good growling. "Are you Harry Wells' son?"

He's met Wells. He knows Wells' is a werewolf, and growling... maybe not the best thing around a werewolf. That said, he really wants to growl. A good long while.

This guy also carries himself like a soldier. And it's strange that he doesn't seem to be hindered at all by all the injuries that the scarring indicates - especially that arm. But then again... potential werewolf, especially with the territory comment. Could be some super regenerative healing thing. Or something...

"Sorry. I met Wells the other day. He gave me permission to use his bag as long as I made sure to let him know his there was any damage. And it's been a fucking day."

He manages not to growl that last part out. Good Lennox.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I am." Spoon says, "Instinct. Growling, hitting da's bag. I have problems." he taps the side of his head, "Not your fault." and hearing that permission was granted does help the younger werewolf stop growling. "Spoon. Me, that is, I'm Spoon...also Kou'te-bpe of Broken Meteor but humans can't say that."

Really. It involves clicking his claws (which he grows just for the occasion and pulls in as soon as he's done with them), and a couple of noises which sound kind of like gargling with gravel. "Know the feeling. Been a bad few moons."

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

"Gotcha. Sorry anyway." Okay. He's a werewolf. "I'm Captain William Lennox, it's nice to meet you." He's throwing the title in because though he's just off duty, he's still somewhat in that military mode (reinforced by being dressed in his BDUs with the Autobot symbol on one sleeve)

Being bloody frustrated out of his mind isn't helping, no sir.

"Yeah... hear you there. God. Today was just the fricking frosting on the fucking cake though." Lennox is running one hand through his hair. "Hell, I'm going to need a damn stiff drink when I'm through here."

And when he goes for it, he's going to discover his wallet missing. Horray for tabs!

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

"Used to be Private Witherspoon." Spoon says absently before nodding, beads rattling cheerfully (they do that) and asking, "Want to talk about it? And Bar has some bloody good Ouzo, if you happen to like that."

The amount of beer that it takes to get Spoon drunk is insane. He's been drinking Ouzo since he went to Dardania and discovered the stuff.

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

"Sure. Why not." That stiff drink might be a better remedy than beating a bag for hours on end. Might not have the satisfying feel of a fist against something, but hell, it might better dull the frustration and the fucking swirling mire of sheer, pure helplessness.

"Haven't had Ouzo... for ages. Damn. Been that long"

Alcohol is alcohol after all. Given the weary and strained cast to Lennox's face, he sure as hell won't be choosy as long as it's booze.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

If Lennox really needs to beat on things, Spoon can go hunt Axel down and they can spend a couple of cathartic hours cutting Heartless up? Or exploding cows, whatever.

"Got the taste for it in Pre-fall of Troy Dardania. Come on in and I'll stand you a bottle." Assuming Lennox can drink a full bottle of the stuff.

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

Hmm. Maybe. But the drunk route usually works. We'll see if it works.

"Much appreciated, man." Lennox can hold his own, no question about that. A full bottle though? That depends on how potent this particular exilar is.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

"Wolf, not man. Haven't been human in years." With that Spoon heads to the Bar herself while Lennox finds a seat, and sets two bottles and two glasses on the table, along with water...just in case Lennox wants to water his down. It is traditional for humans.

Spoon drinks his straight.

He pours the first shot, then leans back in his chair and assumes the ready to listen position. Anyone who has owned a dog has seen this head-tilt before.

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

"Gotcha," He's been trying to train himself to say mech instead of man when talking to the 'bots. It works fifty percent of the time.

Lennox apparently drinks his straight too. It burns as it goes down, but it's a good burn. Cleansing, in its way.

"Gawd... where to begin." One hand thumps onto his forehead, "Okay, do you know the Autobots here or anything about them?"

Gotta start somewhere.

One finger fiddles with the Autobrand logo affixed to his sleeve.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

"Bumblebee watches cow porn." Spoon says instantly.

What? As far as he knows it is true. He ran away at the mooing. There had been hours of pornography before that, and it was the breaking point.

[alorn-bear.livejournal.com]

Some distance off- upwind, downwind, it doesn't matter- there's a blond man with a nose like he came out second best in an argument with a horse leaning against a tree with his hands in his pockets. It's been a while since Belar's had the chance to check over the grounds in any kind of earnest, so he figured he'd get some of that in today.

This, he didn't expect, but it's worth taking note of.

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

Lennox is growling between his swearing. As noted, he sounds somewhat wolf-like when he growls... and right now he sounds like a wolf who is distressed and right displeased over the condition of a fellow packmate.

The bag shakes as fists are hammered into it.

But sooner or later, probably sooner given Lennox's soldiering instincts, the strikes to the bag stop and Lennox turns around and starts looking for the pair of eyes that have been watching him.

He's had a fucking day. You can just tell it by looking at his face.

[alorn-bear.livejournal.com]

"Y'know," says Belar, raising his voice, "I'd been wondering if you hadn't gone berserk or something. 'Course, most of the berserkers I know froth at the mouth when it hits them, so I figured probably not. But you can never really tell, y'know?"

He's dressed in heavy winter gear- civilian stuff, meant for travelers in Mongolia, where the wind is too lazy to blow around you and so blows straight through you instead.

"Didn't mean to interrupt, by the way. I'm sorry about that."

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

"No, no. It's just been a fuckin' day all around, man. One of those." Lennox rakes his hand through his hair. "I just came out here to try to blow some of it away. Urgh, the folks don't need me this wound up at home."

"But no, it's cool."

[alorn-bear.livejournal.com]

"Yeeeeah, I know the feeling," says Belar. "Some days you just wanna find whoever it is that's got the big ol' steelcapped boot on that's been kicking you in the kidneys, grab 'em by the ankle, and teach them a lesson they won't forget. Sounds rough, dude. I'm sorry it happened to you."

He sticks out his right hand for the shaking. "My name's Belar. I'm on the security team here."

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

"Steelcapped? Hell, that sounds about right. Just replace that with 'steelpawed' and me with a good buddy of mine..."

Damnit to hell! Lennox forces the swirling conflicting mass of emotions back to 'simmer' and rubs his face with one slightly grubby hand.

"Yeah... rough, but that's life. Throws some bitches of curves. What can you do?"

That is the question.

"I'm Captain William Lennox." He takes the hand and shakes it. "Nice to meet you."

[alorn-bear.livejournal.com]

"Surround yourself with the right people, get a crapload of the best information you can find, and yell like a mad thing at whoever's advising you if the information didn't work," says Belar. "At least, that's usually how things seemed to work out back home. Not that the yelling accomplished much, but it sure seemed to make people feel better, if nothing else."

Garion can attest to this. Also to the uselessness of yelling at the advisor.

"Same here, Captain, same here. Have you been coming here long? I don't remember seeing you around the place before."

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

"Got the right people, damn good people... ain't doing so great in the intel department. Damn 'need to know' and shit." Need to know is part of the reason why his knuckles are red and faintly stinging, Lennox notes absently. "I got a feeling that there's a lot going on I don't know because it's been decided I don't need to. Curse of a soldier."

"Though yelling would feel good, you're right. Probably not do me a damn bit of good with my CO though."

Lennox rakes his hand through his hair again. It's a habit. "Naw, you can say I'm a newbie. I got ambushed my first time just over a week ago, and this is my third visit since."

[alorn-bear.livejournal.com]

Belar nods. "Yeeeah, that's a pain in the ass no matter how you slice it," he says. "Getting as much as you need to know and as much as you can handle, when what you want is more... oh, believe me, I've heard a lot about that phenomenon. You do what you can with what you have, I guess."

"Is that so? Well then, Captain, welcome to Milliways, and I'm really sorry I missed you before this. Mind if I ask what you think of the place so far?"

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

"Yeah. No kid. I'm just praying that what I don't know doesn't come around to bite everyone on the ass more than it has."

Sorry, Lennox, sorry...

"Heh. It's... quite a place so far. Haven't seen too much. Just the Bar proper and the Garage, and I'm getting familar with the grounds out here... but it's nice. Real nice."

[alorn-bear.livejournal.com]

"I wish you luck with that," Belar says soberly. "Kinda lame, I know, but there's not a whole lot I can do to lend a hand- if I could it'd be another story."

"Oh, dude, you should see it in summer. The lake's not quite up to championship surfing standards even when they've got someone who can manipulate the wind enough to give it waves, but it gets pretty close- especially that one inlet." Belar points out towards the far end of the lake. "Follow the shoreline far enough, and there's a point where the water's all warm and salty and Caribbean. Even at this time of year."

[capt-lennox.livejournal.com]

"Thanks man," Lennox leans back his head and sighs. What a fuckin' mess.

"Really? I'll have to take 'Belle out there sometime when she's a bit bigger. My little girl," he adds for Belar's information. "She was with me when I got ambushed the first time around by the Bar."