milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

belar,
spoon

(no subject)

((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]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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!

"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.

"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.

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.

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.

"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.

"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.

"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.

Choke.

He's going to be reaching for that bottle right about now, yeah...

"Cow porn? That's..." He considers Bumblebee's television watching habits and, "... doesn't sound too strange."

It really doesn't.

"Anything else?"

Spoon considers for a moment, and then offers a list of pornography titles the likes of which only the most devout of porn addicts would be proud of, ending with, "And he had me trying to explain the point of it all."

Pause, pause, "Other than that...Optimus Prime spent four hundred years in me back yard? And wanted to see me trophies?"

...

"... damn." Lennox groans, face hidden partially by a hand "...Beeeeee."

Blink.

"How did Prime spend four hundred years in your back yard again?" He totally forgot to ask this when talking to Wells. "And... trophies?"

"These stone statues, look like angels, I think. It's how I ended up with all this hair, too." he flicks a nail against one of the beads, "Two years, for me, in Dardania. For him...four hundred in Yorkshire."

The trophy question is answered with a wallet. After you get past pictures of family (Ace, Wells, Annie Wells, Cora...lots of Cora, a Predator giving the camera a what are you doing, fuzzy meat? look, Ace mostly naked, more Cora, lots of dogs) you get into skulls. Interesting skulls.

That one is an Alien. That's a T-Rex. Andrewsarchus with a (probably) human arm wedged in its teeth. Silver-plated robot arm. Dragon (that one has a red-head with gravity defying hair standing in the jaws. Assuming the red-head is Spoon's height, the dragon could have closed it's mouth around the werewolf without making him crouch). Triceratops. Carnivorous Kangaroo thing. Several things that only God knows what they were. Something with a circular mouth full of shark-teeth impaled on a spike-arm.

"Well... shit, that's freaky. I'll keep an eye out for them, then." Stone angels that set people back in time... what's next, Optimus Prime in a bathrobe, slipper, and holding bubble pipe?

(Yes, Lennox, it has happened. You thankfully weren't here for it.)

The pictures in the wallet are met with a number of comments - Ace "she's pretty. Girlfriend?", Cora "Your daughter?", Ace naked... no comment, and the Alien and Christine...

No way!

"I've seen those guys before." Lennox rubs his eyes, and says matter of factly, "But I didn't I'd catch them off late night cable TV..."

"Currently. Asking her to marry me this Sunday. Yeah...best daughter I could dream of."

Then there is a pause, tilting his head, "That's Cre'hktdi of Broken Meteor...or Christine. We tend to call her Christine. The other would be my kainde amedha. How I got to be a Hunter of Broken Meteor. Don't bite the hissy things. You'll never hear the end of it."

He taps the Alien picture to make it very clear what hissy things he's talking about.

"I promise I will never bite a hissy thing. Ever." Lennox says very solemnly.

Acid blood = not good times.

"Never," Spoon repeats, "hear the end of it. They act like I went looking for it. Anyway. That's me trophies. Most of them. Pictures of them. I need to get better lighting in there, and add in the things I took from the raiders back in Dardania."

"That's harsh." Lennox would add 'man' here, but Spoon's already said no calling him 'man'... so, would wolf be appropriate? Or wolf-man?

"They're impressive." Lennox's not much of a trophy guy, but for Scorponok, he'll make an exception. Everyone surviving from the escape from SOCCENT and Qatar will recieve a piece of the robo-bug just so they have peace of mind that he's dead. "I can think of one I'd like to collect myself..."

The frustration and the stress from earlier on, burbles back up and stews.

"So yeah, you know who the Autobots are... kinda. I work with them at the base as the head of the human forces stationed there. I've fought with them against the Decepticons... they're the rival faction from their homeworld, Cybertron. The 'Cons... fit almost every giant killer robot cliche... mind giant transforming killer robot... there is in their own special way." Lennox snorts. He has thousands of reasons to despise the Decepticons and they all have names. "They've been warring for God-knows how long, and they've nearly been driven extinct. The four Autobots back home wondered if they were the last of their kind, until we got a signal that there was two more 'bots inbound - Jetfire and Silverbolt. But they were in trouble... and don't ask me how the 'bots at home knew. This is where the fucking fun started in the whole damn mess."

Spoon makes an interested noise (again, more canine than human. He's got scars that don't show from years ago) and pours another round of the alcohol.

"So yeah, we've got Autobots in danger from who-the-hell-knows and stuff, and so the only way to save them is to retrieve them by Space Bridge. A Space Bridge is some frigging teleportation device - you got Stargate in your local movie section back home? It's the Cybertronian version of that - and I've got no clue how it works. Neither does the local crew of 'bots, so we've got a crew of strange mechs come in through Milliways to help in the construction and rescue effort - Rad, Grapple, Hoist, Cheetor. And then there's Bob, who's a sprite from Milliways - met Bob yet? - and some sort of data lifeform, who's gotten himself transfered into an Autobot body and stuck. And yeah... that should round up who was involved nicely."

That shot goes down in one gulp.

"SO, rescue effort for Jetfire and Silverbolt. Jetfire and Silverbolt are in outer space - which means, fine, this is a 'bot only mission. So Ironhide, Rad, Cheetor, and Bob go through the gate to rescue our two while Lissar mans the controls for the bridge, and I've got a recovery crew standing by for the newbies. It seems to go okay... Silverbolt and Jetfire make it through the Bridge first and are taken to decon. We only know something went totally fucked up on the other end when the rescue party itself comes back. Ironhide's fucking mauled... and Bob, Bob's down and sparking."

"It turns out the who-knows-the-hell what was an oh-shit-man who."

Honestly, it's only the fact that Spoon lives with puppies and a six-year-old girl that give him the ability to even sort of follow that. The word mauled, however, is enough to make him cringe and pour out again.

"Shite."

"Yeah. Perfect way to describe it."

Lennox's hands clench.

"So Bob's down... he's fading, and Ironhide's shredded and Lissar is yelling for Ratchet, and Ratchet and Prime are running to the scene faster then I've ever seen them fucking move."

"And before anyone knows what's what, Prime's opening Bob up and scooping out his spark - a spark's the lifeforce/soul of a Cybertronian... you can trash the body all you like, but if that spark's still burning, the Cybertronian's still alive - before it can gutter out, places it in his own spark chamber - the thingy that holds the spark - and hauls aft out of there. I heard later he got to Milliways, and Bob's spark turned back into his sprite self and he was alright, but fuck it was a close one."

"And while that is going on, Ratchet's busy with Ironhide, while Lissar fighting off breaking down into sobs on the spot. You should have seen her face... it was horrible." Lennox rubs his temples, before downing another shot (assuming Spoon has poured it). "God, if it had been Sarah there..." Let's not go there. "She's a strong woman for holding that back. Stronger than she gives herself credit for. Ironhide was bad off."

"So when I can personally get to him, I find out that it was some big cat-bot that had been hunting Silverbot and Jetfire and had ripped up Ironhide. Got the impression they knew... knew as fine as you please that there was this monster of a mech after them and that they didn't think it was necessary to tell me - never mind there was a chance that this fucker could have made it through the gate and onto Earth, with my guys parked out in front, all unknowing like, which makes it my business to know, given the rampages the Decepticons had before. Got the impression that there's a hell of a lot that I haven't been told, about a HELL of a lot of things, and which may decide to come bite me and everyone else in the fucking ass and I won't know which way it's coming because I have no slagging clue which way to look."

Lennox is desperately, desperately trying not to growl at this point.

"And to ice the damn cake, it turns out that the fragger that mauled my friend? Well, the fucker's probably not dead and just licking its wounds somewhere. And thinking of revenge. With my friends and my comrades possibly in crosshairs. That too."

Let's sum it up in one word now.

"Fuck."

Spoon is keeping the liquor flowing. He's very good at that, Lennox's glass isn't empty long enough to hit the table most shots. "Only seen the girl once or twice, when she was staying with us. Scared of me." he mentions about Lissar, shrugging, "She's Ace's and da's friend, not mine." He doesn't blame her, though. They set each other off; she's prey and he's a predator. Bad combination.

"Sounds like you need this. Any idea what you can do to get more information, or are you completely fucked?"

Yes. Lennox needs the Ouzo right now. He needs something to fight off the terrified mess of emotions within him.

"Ask people in the Bar what they know. A good part of the people that were in the rescue mission were from Milliways. Especially about this One that comes to the Bar time to time. Lissar said he was Primus's dark twin... the Cybertronian devil. I wonder if all this isn't related somehow... dunno."

"I'm definately going to talk to Lissar though. She knows way more than I do, I'm sure. I just have to do it when I'm less... growly... than I am now. I'll probably spook her if I come to her in a mood that's anything like this."

Spoon shrugs a little, the white woman made him very uncomfortable - which was only fair, "Dunno. Most of what I know about your friends I've already mentioned. Found, though, that most things from here...are even more connected than people guess."

"Yeah. I'm starting to get that impression."

One more shot disappears. The narration wonders how empty the bottle is by now.