milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

amascut,
voodoo

(no subject)

Voodoo is anxious to put the laser rifle Ellen got for him to use.

He also needs to get in his daily dose of physical training.

The result?

A demented form of bodyweight circuit he likes to call Fucking Forties. Forty handstand pushups, forty squat thrusts, forty pullups, eighty jumping lunges, four one-hundred meter shuttle runs, a four-hundred meter sprint, and a four-hundred meter swim, repeated four times and with shooting drills interspersed throughout.

(Of course he’s in his combat loadout. Gas mask, too. Why not?)

Those out back might see (or hear) him doing his thing. Or they might see him cooling down afterwards with a few planks and dynamic stretches. Take your pick.

(OOC: Instaslows may apply.)

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You know, Voodoo, you can torture yourself by carring a bit more weight. There is an assortment of free weights carved out of wooden logs laying about near the low tech obstacle course looking structure at the foot of the mountains. Of course, they might be easy to miss, since they have more in common with kettle bells, baseball bats, and strongman logs than the bar and disk freeweights that are common on some worlds.

Infact, one of the builders of the place and the crazy looking log weights has stopped on her way back from her workout. She didn't catch the whole routine, but you can bet she was taking mental notes for the parts she did catch.

She lets out a long whistle of admiration once the routine is done.

And Voodoo?

Well, he'll just turn in the direction of the whistle (the lens on the mask are fogged up like you wouldn't believe), and, with all the showmanship he can muster, take a bow.

(He's not not used to the occasional whistle of admiration.)

Doing all that while wearing a mask and helmet. Brilliant idea!

"I think now I know what to do with the lazier of my students. That was quite a routine," she says as she walks over.

"Thank you, ma'am," Voodoo says, securing the laser rifle to his side and taking his helmet and mask off. "Came up with it myself. I call it Fucking Forties."

"Ha! Well, I am sure those who think hanging around training camp instead of going out into the real world and getting on with what they are supposed to be doing will call it that too."

There is a brief pause as she recognizes him. "Weren't you on the Mongolia mission? I am Sarah, in case I didn't introduce myself back when."

Voodoo nods. "That I was. People call me Voodoo. You see two guys running outta the worm complex like their pants were on fire, one of 'em was me. The one without the suit," he clarifies.

Edited 2012-07-04 09:15 (UTC)

"I am sorry to say that I didn't see that. The Advisors became interested in me and I got seperarated from the group."

More like she separated herself from the group because JESUS CHRIST IT'S A GIANT FLYING ROBOT LION ~~GET IN THE CAR~~RUN AWAY

"No shit? Was wonderin' why you weren't on the Borealis after we Mike Charlie'd. How was the return trip?"

Back to Milliways, he means.

She is silent for a spell.

Alyx seemed to get the impression that something bad happened between Sarah and the Advisors, something Sarah did not want to talk about.

Best not contradict that, it may be useful later.

"I am lucky, I guess, that the Advisors were not as good at surviving the radiation from the nuke as I was..."

"Shit. So you were at ground zero?"

"Near enough." She says. "A Resistance cell found me afterward and I was helping them with cleanup until I found a door back."

Well, kicked it in, but she wasn't planning on coming back.

"Huh."

Voodoo cocks his head.

"How come you ain't dead?"

She sighs and then digs through her pockets. Out comes a throwing knife, which she uses to stab her left hand.

As soon as she removes the knife, the wound heals.

Oh, yes, it hurts; it is here and gone again, but it still hurts.

"That would be why the Advisors were interested in me."

He looks at her hand.

Then at the knife.

Then at the hand again.

"Whoa."

That fits.

"Is it genetic, or...?"

"It's been a long while since I have seen my family, but no, I don't remember any of them ever doing that." Can they? Sure, when they want to run around in flesh and blood bodies.

"If its magic, I am not doing it consciously."

"...so you don't know how you do it, you just do."

Right?

She knows why it happens; there are many people with a vested interest in keeping her alive/imprisoned. But not how. She would have broken out by now.

"Yes, so that is probably why the Advisors did't bother sucking my brain out." At least that is the story she wound up telling Alyx.

"...huh."

"...you ain't, like, some kinda god, are you?"

What, regenerative abilities? Milliways? It's as good a guess as any.

She smirks,

"Maybe, if this means I am immortal. The trick would be remembering enough magic tricks to convince other people I am, and maybe getting them to worship me."

"I don't think I have lived long enough to start claiming that title yet," she jokes.

"Why? How long have you lived?"

"Fifty." Yeah, that's a decent number. "Fifty years," says the woman who doesn't look a day past 30. "I guess it is a good sign that my joints don't ache yet."

"Shit, I'd say," Voodoo says, looking her over.

Then:

"So you're still a teacher at fifty?"

"Yes, but it is an occasional thing. There aren't many people who want to learn how to slay monsters. That is part of the reason I went on the mission to mongolia. There were many creatures very unlike what I had seen before, and it isn't good to let yourself get rusty when it comes to figuring out a completely alien creature's weaknesses."

"I spend most of my time running an armor and weapons shop."

"So before you ran that shop, you spent most of your time killing monsters?"

"That and learning anatomy, learning useful magic, learning how to shoot straight, swordplay, survival in harsh environments, the sort of things that come up when you are on an exterminating job."

"Of course the survival part is not so much of a problem for me, but I would rather not go hungry or get hurt doing something stupid." Some would say becoming a monster slayer is stupid in and of itself, but someone has to do it. At least, if she keeps the world convinced that it has to be done, anyway.

"So you're an immortal monster exterminator."

"There a lotta need for those where you come from?"

Is he going to insist on calling her immortal?

"At times, when there is an invasion from another world or even in wars. It is inevitable that someone decides to start breeding dragons or junglehorrors or terrorbirds as a supplement to their army. We aren't too bad when it comes to killing humans or anything humanlike of course. When nothing big is going on some of us find work keeping the population of such and such creature low and contained to so and so location, but others find work as assassins."

Makes her decision to open up a weapons shop and teach on the side seem downright peaceful in comparison, doesn't it?

Edited 2012-07-05 21:20 (UTC)

It's a simplification, yes, but one that's easy to remember.

And yeah, it kinda does.

"Huh."

"Did you? Work as an assassin, I mean."

She starts waving her hand in front of her nose as if she had smelled something awful. "Oh no, I try to keep my nose clean when it comes to politics and such things."

She's such a liar.

Edited 2012-07-05 22:52 (UTC)

Voodoo shrugs. "Most people do."

Beat.

"'course, when the politics find you it ain't like you got much choice."

Edited 2012-07-06 19:10 (UTC)

She sighs.

"I suppose I am lucky, then. Either that or I can't be trusted to keep quiet and discrete about those sorts of things." She chuckles.

"Reputations are important in that line of work."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

Beat.

"So whatcha doin' out here? Training?"

"Yes, a while back a couple of people and I built an obstacle course up in the mountains," she points at the mountains with her thumb, "And I thought I might as well check if it was still standing."

"It's so nice to be able to stop the world from spinning just so that you can get in a good workout."

He looks around. "That it is."

He nods. "That it is."

Eventually, he picks up his helmet and gas mask.

"You wanna head inside, grab a drink?"

Christ knows he could use one.

"Sure, I don't wan't to die of thirst for standing around here talking anymore than you do," she jokes,"lead the way."

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