Post by Orange on Feb 27, 2006 14:24:43 GMT -5
Chapter 23: In which Timbre meets a Gojulas.
-
And strangely on the Knight look'd he,
And his blue eyes gleam'd wild and wide;
``And, darest thou, Warrior! seek to see
What heaven and hell alike would hide?
-
"Okay! Now, see how when I turn to pursue, I'm leaving my back way the hell open?" Sef called out over the radio.
He was riding in Tornado, who was ecstatically happy to be out and about. The Zeekdober had been out of commission for months now, with Sef's bum arm. Now, Sef was doing some light exercise. His wrist was wrapped up tight, with an ice pack strapped on for a bit of extra protection against swelling and pain. Sef had not taken any pain medication besides aspirin for a few weeks now, and felt that his head was clear enough to get back into the swing of things.
So, he hauled out Tornado in what Timbre had taken to calling 'the ass-early end of the morning', and made Timbre practice with him.
"You see it, right? The fact that I have almost no rear defenses?"
"Yes, Sef." Timbre sighed, settling back into his seat.
"Okay, so, I would usually be hyper-cautious of even exposing my backside to any danger. Which makes me sometimes forget about my flanks! See, a lot of people in zoids only think in four directions. Back, forth, left, right. You need to learn about your whole sphere."
"What?"
"Sphere. Big circle that surrounds you in all directions. See, your problem is that you only think in the four directions. You limit yourself to attacking directly from the front, side, or rear. A lot of people do this. That's why a lot of people suck. Got it?"
"Yes, got it. I am among those whom suck." Timbre replied, shifting in his seat. He was getting somewhat bored, just sitting here and being talked at by Sef.
"Shut up. You wont suck soon! You just need to learn exploitation. You need to figure out what the weaknesses of every zoid is. In my case, it's my blind spots on the flanks. The best I can do to smack away an attack is to use my whips, which hardly scares anyone with a brain." for emphasis, Tornado flicked his blade whips experimentally, rumbling as he did so.
Timbre looked down at his console, noticing a blip. It was coming from behind Tornado, quite a ways away. He turned on his long scanner, and picked up the ID. "So, what would be the weaknesses of that?"
"Of what?"
"That." Timbre said, emphasizing his point with a shake of the fox's head, indicating direction.
The Zeekdober turned, Sef turning on his own scanners. He then laughed, with Tornado joining with a happy bark. "Lordy lordy, look who decided to drag themselves back!" said Sef, who took off with Tornado.
Timbre was quick to follow, and the two quickly approached the very large, very imposing figure. It was a Gojulas Giga, strapped into a transport rack on the back of a Gustav. A very large, mean looking Giga. Whoever thought that the term 'giggles' was an appropriate moniker for the Gojulas Giga was quite obviously cracked out of his mind. This particular Gojulas was painted a dark chocolate brown, with flashy green bits in the appropriate flashy spots.
On it's back, the menacing CP-10 Orge Cannons were carried, and seemed almost light in comparison to the rest of the zoid. The Gojulas carried them gracefully, easily. It was as if you could add another pair of CP-10's on, and it would still look balanced. The twin 40mm machine guns on either side of the face gave the heavy beast's face a menacing, heavy look, and hidden rocket pods in the ankles completed it's firepower. This wasn't even a stock firepower Gojulas. It lacked the Advanced Buster Cannons and boosters, and it was still a menacing piece of artillery. Even when not in motion, it commanded respect.
"Mercy me, here comes the cavalry." A smooth accented female voice chimed over the radio. “How ya doing, Sef? Hiya 'Nado.”
Tornado barked, wagging his stub of a tail. The zoid seemed genuinely happy to see this Gojulas, and to hear the voice of the Gustav Driver.
“Now, who's this then in Rando's Fox?” She asked.
"New guy, name's Timbre. Say hi, boy." Sef replied, swinging Tornado over to look at Timbre's Glow Fox, who was standing several yards back from Tornado's position.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Timbre Conway." The Glow Fox even bobbed his head, as if making a gentleman's tip of the hat.
"Where in the dang world did you dig up a polite one, Sef?"
"Eh, we get 'em from thither and yon. C'mon, let's get you in. An.. Aw geeze. Look at the time. Tam?"
"Yes, lunch. I'll be taking my leave, then." Timbre said, turning the Glow Fox around. "Nice meeting you."
And with that, Timbre sprinted off, leaving Tornado to escort the slower Gustav and cargo back to the Union Center.
-
Back in the kitchens, Timbre was busy managing lunch. Managing lunch, preparing dinner, and trying his darnedest to tell off a persistent admirer.
Boka was one of the repair girls in the weapons shop, and had a reputation for her aggressive nature. Specifically, in the sex department. She was short, and had a real spunky look to her. The kind that lived to either make things explode, or make them explode better. Years of wrangling heavy zoid parts gave her well developed muscles, and her hands were almost always covered by gloves, to try and prevent heavy callousing.
She had quite an appetite for men, and was known to destroy them with a lusty look. And, recently, she had put Timbre in her sights. Unfortunately for her (and Timbre), he could care less.
"C'mon, Tam. I just want to hang out for a bit." Boka pleaded, leaning on the serving bar. She happened to be leaning next to a very nice fruit display Betty had set up. Well, it had been nice. Now, it was down to some bananas and melon slices nobody ever seemed to eat.
Timbre was trying to get a secure hold on a fish he was trying to get ready for the night's dinner. It was not going very well. "I'm not a very social person" he tried to explain as he de-boned the carcass. he had gotten in several very nice, very large fresh fish, and was determined to have them cut up into steaks for dinner, with the heads and other bits thrown into a pot for a nice fish chowder. Well, nice for anyone who ate it. Timbre was still a strict vegetarian, even though he had given up his aversion to milk and eggs.
The fish was why lunch was so simple. It was a salad bar type thing today, with mixed greens and toppings, serve yourself deal. "That, and I really do not have time for hanging out of any kind. At least, not within the immediate future."
"Yer just afraid of me." Boka taunted. "Poofter." She snorted. Boka then grabbed a banana from the display, tossing it from hand to hand.
"Now that's rude." Timbre said, turning away from his fish. "Not wanting to sleep with you does not make me gay, Boka."
He narrowly ducked a flying banana.
"Woah there, Boka." A new, but familiar voice said. it belonged to a woman of normal height, and lanky, almost gangly build. She was a few inches shorter then Timbre, but she almost looked like she should be taller, from the way she carried herself, with an almost lazy confidence. Her black hair was cropped to a short ear-length cut, with a few stray bits constantly straying to her face. A face marked with two key features, a blue zoidscar over her left eyebrow, and a regular, long healed scar down the opposite side of her face, starting at the ear and curving along the jawline.
Her pants were well worn, and tucked into equally worn boots. She was wearing a tank top for the moment, tight enough to show off slim and slight curves. She had a tough look about her, but a kind of adolescent tough. Beneath the worn clothes and old scars, she looked even younger then Timbre's assumed 22.
Boka looked to the new figure, and took a step back. "LN. When did you get in?"
"'Bout two hours ago." the girl replied, leaning against the counter, long fingers tapping on it's stainless steel surface. "I spoke wit' Jocko, said I should try and catch up wit' ya. Goji's cannons are way outta whack, was wondering if you could do me a favor and get them bored in. 'Preciate it a lot." She drawled.
"Yeah, sure LN." Boka replied, accenting with a nod. She turned to look at Timbre. "I'll catch you later." She said, emphasis on the catch. Timbre swallowed hard, and tried not to wring the sanitary towel he had picked up to clean up his hands.
Boka trotted out (she almost never walked, she was almost always either running or scampering somewhere), and the girl took her place at the serving bar, by the fruit stand. She grabbed a melon piece from the tray, motioning to Timbre with it. "Heya. Yer the dude from the glow fox, right?"
"Correct." Timbre affirmed, tossing the towel in the garbage. "I didn't catch your name before. Ellen, I presume?" He said, repeating what he though Boka had called the girl.
"Naw, that's just my initials." She said, then taking a bite of melon. "'Scuze me, kinda peckish. Name's Louiza, how do ya do." She stuck out her free hand for a shake. "And yer Timbre Conway, as I recollect."
Timbre nodded, taking Louiza's hand to return the friendly shake. Her grip was light, hands smooth. A stark contrast to Timbre's own worn paws.
"Yennyhoo, I came down from the rec room. We're outta chips and sodas, and I was the only one not lazy enough to get up and trot down here. Said I should ask for you."
"They're out of chips already? I just stocked them four days ago."
"I must admit, the cheese poof eating contest we just had might have a bit of an impact on yer chip status. Rando won, by the way."
Timbre groaned. Rando was the biggest guy in the whole Union, a real lummox. He had scorned the salad selection, and had tromped off an hour ago to the rec room in search of food. Obviously, he had settled on chips for his meal.
"Betty, can you take care of the fish for a minute? I need to run down to the rec room."
"Sure thing, hon." Betty replied in her sweet older lady way.
"Excuse me a moment, please." Timbre said as he darted into the back room, hanging his hat on a handy hook. He scooted into the storage room, and grabbed a case of sodas.
"Need a hand?"
Timbre looked back to see Louiza standing in the doorway. Well, not quite standing, she was leaning against the door frame.
Timbre looked down at the stuff he was going to have to carry. Not only was it heavy, but the cases of soda and chips were unwieldy. That, and Timbre was not a fan of heavy lifting. "Actually, if you could grab those chips there, I would really appreciate it."
Louiza smiled a bit, and bent down to grab the case of mixed chips. "No prob."
Timbre shouldered his own, far heavier case of sodas, and followed Louiza out.
The exited the office proper, and crossed over the Great Hall, which was, for the most part, silent. Silent except for the ambient noise of zoid activity that existed over the whole of the Union center, which was present in even the quietest parts of the building. For some reason, Timbre felt compelled the break that silence.
"So, what does the N stand for?"
"Huh?"
"LN. What does the N stand for?"
"Oh. Heh." Louiza chuckled. "Nacht. Louiza Nacht. Don't make much sense without the last bit, I reckon."
"Where have you been all this time? I mean, I've been here for nearly seven months, and never had the pleasure of meeting you before. Unless i've just been that absorbed in my kitchens." Timbre finished with a grin.
"Nah, i've been on a long mish. Had a town guard type assignment, long term." Louiza was quiet for a moment. "I'd actually prefer if we didn't talk 'bout that much."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Nah, not yer fault. Just wasn't too fun times, yaknow? Let's talk 'bout you. You're quite the dude, Sef tells me. Crackerjack pilot, an' fine cook. Pretty good trick, holding down them two talents."
"Not really." Timbre said, pausing for a moment to nudge the door open to the residential wing. Quite a feat, considering his hands were full of soda. It was a trick he picked up in his many runs to stock the rec room with snacks. He actually used his foot to pull open the heavy swinging door, by wedging his toes into the handle and scooting back quick. Then he scooted in and caught the door on his hip, holding it open for Louiza.
"Quite the gentleman you are." Louiza said with a smirk. "Girl could get used to this kinda treatment." She commented as she walked though the door.
"I was raised to be a polite boy." Timbre replied, before mentally pausing himself for a moment. Wait, was he? Why was he always so polite? Who raised him to be polite? Certainly not Babe. It just brought back all kinds of confusion that he thought he had put behind him. Confusion about the past he didn't have.
Questions about his mystery had not come up much since Timbre's introduction to the Union, mostly because nobody really knew. The only ones he had told were Adie, Sef, and Oleff. Adie and Sef were naturally curious about it, but never pressed the issue, and beyond the occasional joke, they never spoke of it. Oleff knew because Oleff had asked Timbre about his past in the 'interview' they had shortly after Timbre's arrival.
Nobody really seemed to care about pasts at the Union, mostly because of a common attribute shared by nearly all the pilots. Their line of work was dangerous, and lots of people died on the job. Within the last six months alone, five pilots had died while on missions. And because of this, the pilots tended to not speak of the dead very often. Mostly because it reminded them that, they too could die at any time on any mission, no matter how simple. Speaking of the past always dredged up old memories, memories of those that no longer walked among them.
This was a fact mirrored by the Rec Room. The room was large, and a common hang-out for off duty mechanics and pilots. It contained many mis-matched bits of furniture, all of it comfortable and well worn. Most of it circled around the large video screen mounted on the far wall, some along the walls. There was a pool table, and on the wall closest to the door, a full bar. This was not only the location of the snack cabinet (which Timbre was constantly re-filling), but also the extensive liquor collection kept on hand by the Union members. Most of the Union members were also Brothers Of Booze, and liquor was part of their daily lives (except for a day previous to and during missions).
Behind the bar, pictures, news clippings, certificates, awards, and all manner of memorabilia was stored. But close inspection would find that several of the pictures were marked in some way, faces blacked out. Whenever a pilot died, someone, usually a close friend, would go and take down the bits and pieces that made up the pilot's history on the bar. In the case of group pictures, faces were marked out. Awards were taken down, pictures removed, certificates replaced, and all the evidence of the pilot's life was placed in a box, along with the rest of the dead. It was unnerving to Timbre, to say the least. No matter how much it had hurt to loose Babe and Fiver, Timbre still wanted to remember them.
And remember Timbre did, for on a simple chain necklace that was almost constantly hidden under his shirt, hung that dumb gaudy ring that Babe had picked up at Branksome. Babe was not a collector of worldly goods, and besides a few changes of clothes in the Gustav, and the Gustav it's self (which Timbre had in storage), not much remained of Babe and Fiver.
Once inside the Rec Room, Timbre was met by a chorus of greetings.
"Hey, Tam! Wha're ya trying to do, starve me wit your rabbit food?" shouted Rando, who hardly bothered to look over at Timbre as he spoke. "Toss me a packet of crisps."
Timbre did as he was asked, before starting to arrange the cabinet. It was a simple procedure, just putting the new snacks in, and tidying up the cabinet as he went. Stocking the sodas went much the same.
As he worked, Louiza also slid behind the bar, fixing herself a drink, a simple rum and coke. "Join me for a drink, Timbre?"
Timbre smiled as he turned to face her. "I really shouldn't, I have to get back to the caf.."
"You liver loving bastard, have a damn drink!" Rando shouted from his couch. Amongst Brothers of Booze, a liver lover was someone who didn't filter their livers through with copious amounts of alcohol, a near sin amongst Brothers. And since Adie had convinced Timbre to get on the short list of prospective Brothers recruitment, Timbre found himself having to drink more and more. Not that he didn't enjoy the occasional drink, he just wasn't usually a heavy drinker. Which was actually quite acceptable amongst Brothers (where the emphasis was on alcohol enjoyment, not abuse), but almost all Brothers enjoyed their alcohol on a daily basis.
"C'mon, bottoms up." Louiza said with a grin, handing her rum and coke over to Timbre. "Not like ya'll need to be stone sober to grill up a fish."
"Grilling is BETTER when sauced!" added Rando.
Timbre smiled, and shook his head in defeat. "Cheers then."
"Hold up, cant join a girl if she dont have 'er own drink." Louiza chided as she fixed up a new rum and coke. With that done, she then raised her own glass. "Cheers!"
Glasses clinked, and gulps were taken. Gulps immediately interrupted by an absolutely undesirable sort of person.
"Louiza you ho!" A new voice shouted. "Son of a f'king *Watch your language!*, who let you back in?!"
-
Scott was a large man, but more round then large. But still intimidating. His brown hair was clipped short, and his face generally kept clean shaven. He was sporting several days worth of stubble now, cursed with the misery that was a neck-beard. He was drunk. It was obvious in the way he shouted, how he grabbed at the doorframe for support. But he was still lucid enough to walk well enough, however unstable he though he might be.
Louiza put her drink down on the bar, leaning against it for a moment. "Scott." She said simply, her eyes narrowing.
"You thieving ho, what let you show your damn face back here?" Scott snarled.
Timbre grit his teeth quietly. He knew Scott, and Scott was usually an okay guy. A good pilot, one of the best Iron Kong drivers in Europa. But now? Timbre had never seen anybody like this before in his life.
"Scott, calm down." He said, taking a step forward. "That's no way to spe.."
He was cut off by Scott taking several swift steps in Timbre's direction, then slamming a meaty fist into Timbre's gut.
Timbre was thrown back by the punch, and took several steps back, doubled over in pain. His thin frame did not absorb abuse very well, and gut punches will hurt anyone. Timbre fought back nausea as he tried to straighten himself up.
"Y'bastard, what give's ya'll the gall to do that?" Louiza shouted, taking a step in front of Timbre, getting between the two men.
By now, Rando had lifted himself from the couch, and was making his approach to Scott.
"Don't protect the little puss! You ho, stealin MY gojulas, breakin MY hear..."
"You broke that crap y'self. And I won Goji fair an' square! Don't you DARE call me a ho, you cheatery bastard."
Rando had made his way to Scott, and grabbed at the man's arm. "That's enough, Scott."
Scott ripped away, stumbling to one side. "Ain't nothin enough! Ho's and puss had it comin!"
"Do not call Louiza that, you motherless bastard." Timbre growled in a new voice. His normally calm tone had dropped to a dangerous gruff that surprised even him. He had straightened himself up, still hurting from the blow, but able to tolerate it in the face of the new danger he saw. Timbre took a slow step foward, his eyes narrow. "You will apologize."
"Wont!" Scott laughed. "What'cha gonna do about it, puss? Y'cant fight."
Timbre snarled, and threw himself at Scott, slamming into the other man's impressive bulk. But it was to little purpose, as Scott's superior strength won over any sort of finesse Timbre may have had. Scott's elbow slammed into the side of Timbre's face, swatting him aside.
Timbre had not taken many heavy blows (that he knew of) in his life, and this was certainly a new experience. For a few moments, all he could really feel was... well, nothing. It felt like his brain had been surrounded in buzzing red balls of itchy wool, which, coincidentally, was about all he could see. He was dazed, to say the least, and stumbled to the floor, falling to his knees, and trying to steady himself with one hand, the other clutching at his head.
It was at this point that Rando finally stepped in, using his even more superior bulk to grab Scott in a bear hug, pinning the man still. "ENOUGH!"
By now, other pilots and mechanics had approached, and Scott was dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming. Louiza was quick to follow Scott out, both to further yell at him, and escape the incredibly uncomfortable situation that had just presented it's self in the rec room. Another pilot, Valu, went to Timbre, helping steady him.
"Y' okay?" He asked.
Timbre was fighting back tears, and could not answer for a moment. The blow slammed hard into his temple, and he was somewhat dazed as a result. Well, okay, really dazed. And his mild concussion had just flashed from red numbness, to splitting, eyeball popping pain. It was a hurt Timbre vaugely seemed to remember, but from what, he was unsure. Or, he would be unsure upon pondering it later. Right at that moment, his brain was still in the polite 'off' setting as bits of fire flashed about his skull.
"He's gonna feel that later." A mechanic, Jacko from the weapons shop, said. He grabbed a wet rag from the bar, and helped Timbre over to a stool, putting the cool rag over Timbre's quickly forming bruise.
"What the hell just happened?" yelled Adie, who stormed in from the hall. She noticed Timbre, and rushed over. "Eve Tam, what the hell did you do?"
Valu snorted. "Tam didn't do nothin. Scott sucker-punched the kid."
"Eve. Get him some ice, or a bloody drink or something." Adie said, taking the rag from Jocko, holding it to Timbre's head.
-
And strangely on the Knight look'd he,
And his blue eyes gleam'd wild and wide;
``And, darest thou, Warrior! seek to see
What heaven and hell alike would hide?
-
"Okay! Now, see how when I turn to pursue, I'm leaving my back way the hell open?" Sef called out over the radio.
He was riding in Tornado, who was ecstatically happy to be out and about. The Zeekdober had been out of commission for months now, with Sef's bum arm. Now, Sef was doing some light exercise. His wrist was wrapped up tight, with an ice pack strapped on for a bit of extra protection against swelling and pain. Sef had not taken any pain medication besides aspirin for a few weeks now, and felt that his head was clear enough to get back into the swing of things.
So, he hauled out Tornado in what Timbre had taken to calling 'the ass-early end of the morning', and made Timbre practice with him.
"You see it, right? The fact that I have almost no rear defenses?"
"Yes, Sef." Timbre sighed, settling back into his seat.
"Okay, so, I would usually be hyper-cautious of even exposing my backside to any danger. Which makes me sometimes forget about my flanks! See, a lot of people in zoids only think in four directions. Back, forth, left, right. You need to learn about your whole sphere."
"What?"
"Sphere. Big circle that surrounds you in all directions. See, your problem is that you only think in the four directions. You limit yourself to attacking directly from the front, side, or rear. A lot of people do this. That's why a lot of people suck. Got it?"
"Yes, got it. I am among those whom suck." Timbre replied, shifting in his seat. He was getting somewhat bored, just sitting here and being talked at by Sef.
"Shut up. You wont suck soon! You just need to learn exploitation. You need to figure out what the weaknesses of every zoid is. In my case, it's my blind spots on the flanks. The best I can do to smack away an attack is to use my whips, which hardly scares anyone with a brain." for emphasis, Tornado flicked his blade whips experimentally, rumbling as he did so.
Timbre looked down at his console, noticing a blip. It was coming from behind Tornado, quite a ways away. He turned on his long scanner, and picked up the ID. "So, what would be the weaknesses of that?"
"Of what?"
"That." Timbre said, emphasizing his point with a shake of the fox's head, indicating direction.
The Zeekdober turned, Sef turning on his own scanners. He then laughed, with Tornado joining with a happy bark. "Lordy lordy, look who decided to drag themselves back!" said Sef, who took off with Tornado.
Timbre was quick to follow, and the two quickly approached the very large, very imposing figure. It was a Gojulas Giga, strapped into a transport rack on the back of a Gustav. A very large, mean looking Giga. Whoever thought that the term 'giggles' was an appropriate moniker for the Gojulas Giga was quite obviously cracked out of his mind. This particular Gojulas was painted a dark chocolate brown, with flashy green bits in the appropriate flashy spots.
On it's back, the menacing CP-10 Orge Cannons were carried, and seemed almost light in comparison to the rest of the zoid. The Gojulas carried them gracefully, easily. It was as if you could add another pair of CP-10's on, and it would still look balanced. The twin 40mm machine guns on either side of the face gave the heavy beast's face a menacing, heavy look, and hidden rocket pods in the ankles completed it's firepower. This wasn't even a stock firepower Gojulas. It lacked the Advanced Buster Cannons and boosters, and it was still a menacing piece of artillery. Even when not in motion, it commanded respect.
"Mercy me, here comes the cavalry." A smooth accented female voice chimed over the radio. “How ya doing, Sef? Hiya 'Nado.”
Tornado barked, wagging his stub of a tail. The zoid seemed genuinely happy to see this Gojulas, and to hear the voice of the Gustav Driver.
“Now, who's this then in Rando's Fox?” She asked.
"New guy, name's Timbre. Say hi, boy." Sef replied, swinging Tornado over to look at Timbre's Glow Fox, who was standing several yards back from Tornado's position.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Timbre Conway." The Glow Fox even bobbed his head, as if making a gentleman's tip of the hat.
"Where in the dang world did you dig up a polite one, Sef?"
"Eh, we get 'em from thither and yon. C'mon, let's get you in. An.. Aw geeze. Look at the time. Tam?"
"Yes, lunch. I'll be taking my leave, then." Timbre said, turning the Glow Fox around. "Nice meeting you."
And with that, Timbre sprinted off, leaving Tornado to escort the slower Gustav and cargo back to the Union Center.
-
Back in the kitchens, Timbre was busy managing lunch. Managing lunch, preparing dinner, and trying his darnedest to tell off a persistent admirer.
Boka was one of the repair girls in the weapons shop, and had a reputation for her aggressive nature. Specifically, in the sex department. She was short, and had a real spunky look to her. The kind that lived to either make things explode, or make them explode better. Years of wrangling heavy zoid parts gave her well developed muscles, and her hands were almost always covered by gloves, to try and prevent heavy callousing.
She had quite an appetite for men, and was known to destroy them with a lusty look. And, recently, she had put Timbre in her sights. Unfortunately for her (and Timbre), he could care less.
"C'mon, Tam. I just want to hang out for a bit." Boka pleaded, leaning on the serving bar. She happened to be leaning next to a very nice fruit display Betty had set up. Well, it had been nice. Now, it was down to some bananas and melon slices nobody ever seemed to eat.
Timbre was trying to get a secure hold on a fish he was trying to get ready for the night's dinner. It was not going very well. "I'm not a very social person" he tried to explain as he de-boned the carcass. he had gotten in several very nice, very large fresh fish, and was determined to have them cut up into steaks for dinner, with the heads and other bits thrown into a pot for a nice fish chowder. Well, nice for anyone who ate it. Timbre was still a strict vegetarian, even though he had given up his aversion to milk and eggs.
The fish was why lunch was so simple. It was a salad bar type thing today, with mixed greens and toppings, serve yourself deal. "That, and I really do not have time for hanging out of any kind. At least, not within the immediate future."
"Yer just afraid of me." Boka taunted. "Poofter." She snorted. Boka then grabbed a banana from the display, tossing it from hand to hand.
"Now that's rude." Timbre said, turning away from his fish. "Not wanting to sleep with you does not make me gay, Boka."
He narrowly ducked a flying banana.
"Woah there, Boka." A new, but familiar voice said. it belonged to a woman of normal height, and lanky, almost gangly build. She was a few inches shorter then Timbre, but she almost looked like she should be taller, from the way she carried herself, with an almost lazy confidence. Her black hair was cropped to a short ear-length cut, with a few stray bits constantly straying to her face. A face marked with two key features, a blue zoidscar over her left eyebrow, and a regular, long healed scar down the opposite side of her face, starting at the ear and curving along the jawline.
Her pants were well worn, and tucked into equally worn boots. She was wearing a tank top for the moment, tight enough to show off slim and slight curves. She had a tough look about her, but a kind of adolescent tough. Beneath the worn clothes and old scars, she looked even younger then Timbre's assumed 22.
Boka looked to the new figure, and took a step back. "LN. When did you get in?"
"'Bout two hours ago." the girl replied, leaning against the counter, long fingers tapping on it's stainless steel surface. "I spoke wit' Jocko, said I should try and catch up wit' ya. Goji's cannons are way outta whack, was wondering if you could do me a favor and get them bored in. 'Preciate it a lot." She drawled.
"Yeah, sure LN." Boka replied, accenting with a nod. She turned to look at Timbre. "I'll catch you later." She said, emphasis on the catch. Timbre swallowed hard, and tried not to wring the sanitary towel he had picked up to clean up his hands.
Boka trotted out (she almost never walked, she was almost always either running or scampering somewhere), and the girl took her place at the serving bar, by the fruit stand. She grabbed a melon piece from the tray, motioning to Timbre with it. "Heya. Yer the dude from the glow fox, right?"
"Correct." Timbre affirmed, tossing the towel in the garbage. "I didn't catch your name before. Ellen, I presume?" He said, repeating what he though Boka had called the girl.
"Naw, that's just my initials." She said, then taking a bite of melon. "'Scuze me, kinda peckish. Name's Louiza, how do ya do." She stuck out her free hand for a shake. "And yer Timbre Conway, as I recollect."
Timbre nodded, taking Louiza's hand to return the friendly shake. Her grip was light, hands smooth. A stark contrast to Timbre's own worn paws.
"Yennyhoo, I came down from the rec room. We're outta chips and sodas, and I was the only one not lazy enough to get up and trot down here. Said I should ask for you."
"They're out of chips already? I just stocked them four days ago."
"I must admit, the cheese poof eating contest we just had might have a bit of an impact on yer chip status. Rando won, by the way."
Timbre groaned. Rando was the biggest guy in the whole Union, a real lummox. He had scorned the salad selection, and had tromped off an hour ago to the rec room in search of food. Obviously, he had settled on chips for his meal.
"Betty, can you take care of the fish for a minute? I need to run down to the rec room."
"Sure thing, hon." Betty replied in her sweet older lady way.
"Excuse me a moment, please." Timbre said as he darted into the back room, hanging his hat on a handy hook. He scooted into the storage room, and grabbed a case of sodas.
"Need a hand?"
Timbre looked back to see Louiza standing in the doorway. Well, not quite standing, she was leaning against the door frame.
Timbre looked down at the stuff he was going to have to carry. Not only was it heavy, but the cases of soda and chips were unwieldy. That, and Timbre was not a fan of heavy lifting. "Actually, if you could grab those chips there, I would really appreciate it."
Louiza smiled a bit, and bent down to grab the case of mixed chips. "No prob."
Timbre shouldered his own, far heavier case of sodas, and followed Louiza out.
The exited the office proper, and crossed over the Great Hall, which was, for the most part, silent. Silent except for the ambient noise of zoid activity that existed over the whole of the Union center, which was present in even the quietest parts of the building. For some reason, Timbre felt compelled the break that silence.
"So, what does the N stand for?"
"Huh?"
"LN. What does the N stand for?"
"Oh. Heh." Louiza chuckled. "Nacht. Louiza Nacht. Don't make much sense without the last bit, I reckon."
"Where have you been all this time? I mean, I've been here for nearly seven months, and never had the pleasure of meeting you before. Unless i've just been that absorbed in my kitchens." Timbre finished with a grin.
"Nah, i've been on a long mish. Had a town guard type assignment, long term." Louiza was quiet for a moment. "I'd actually prefer if we didn't talk 'bout that much."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Nah, not yer fault. Just wasn't too fun times, yaknow? Let's talk 'bout you. You're quite the dude, Sef tells me. Crackerjack pilot, an' fine cook. Pretty good trick, holding down them two talents."
"Not really." Timbre said, pausing for a moment to nudge the door open to the residential wing. Quite a feat, considering his hands were full of soda. It was a trick he picked up in his many runs to stock the rec room with snacks. He actually used his foot to pull open the heavy swinging door, by wedging his toes into the handle and scooting back quick. Then he scooted in and caught the door on his hip, holding it open for Louiza.
"Quite the gentleman you are." Louiza said with a smirk. "Girl could get used to this kinda treatment." She commented as she walked though the door.
"I was raised to be a polite boy." Timbre replied, before mentally pausing himself for a moment. Wait, was he? Why was he always so polite? Who raised him to be polite? Certainly not Babe. It just brought back all kinds of confusion that he thought he had put behind him. Confusion about the past he didn't have.
Questions about his mystery had not come up much since Timbre's introduction to the Union, mostly because nobody really knew. The only ones he had told were Adie, Sef, and Oleff. Adie and Sef were naturally curious about it, but never pressed the issue, and beyond the occasional joke, they never spoke of it. Oleff knew because Oleff had asked Timbre about his past in the 'interview' they had shortly after Timbre's arrival.
Nobody really seemed to care about pasts at the Union, mostly because of a common attribute shared by nearly all the pilots. Their line of work was dangerous, and lots of people died on the job. Within the last six months alone, five pilots had died while on missions. And because of this, the pilots tended to not speak of the dead very often. Mostly because it reminded them that, they too could die at any time on any mission, no matter how simple. Speaking of the past always dredged up old memories, memories of those that no longer walked among them.
This was a fact mirrored by the Rec Room. The room was large, and a common hang-out for off duty mechanics and pilots. It contained many mis-matched bits of furniture, all of it comfortable and well worn. Most of it circled around the large video screen mounted on the far wall, some along the walls. There was a pool table, and on the wall closest to the door, a full bar. This was not only the location of the snack cabinet (which Timbre was constantly re-filling), but also the extensive liquor collection kept on hand by the Union members. Most of the Union members were also Brothers Of Booze, and liquor was part of their daily lives (except for a day previous to and during missions).
Behind the bar, pictures, news clippings, certificates, awards, and all manner of memorabilia was stored. But close inspection would find that several of the pictures were marked in some way, faces blacked out. Whenever a pilot died, someone, usually a close friend, would go and take down the bits and pieces that made up the pilot's history on the bar. In the case of group pictures, faces were marked out. Awards were taken down, pictures removed, certificates replaced, and all the evidence of the pilot's life was placed in a box, along with the rest of the dead. It was unnerving to Timbre, to say the least. No matter how much it had hurt to loose Babe and Fiver, Timbre still wanted to remember them.
And remember Timbre did, for on a simple chain necklace that was almost constantly hidden under his shirt, hung that dumb gaudy ring that Babe had picked up at Branksome. Babe was not a collector of worldly goods, and besides a few changes of clothes in the Gustav, and the Gustav it's self (which Timbre had in storage), not much remained of Babe and Fiver.
Once inside the Rec Room, Timbre was met by a chorus of greetings.
"Hey, Tam! Wha're ya trying to do, starve me wit your rabbit food?" shouted Rando, who hardly bothered to look over at Timbre as he spoke. "Toss me a packet of crisps."
Timbre did as he was asked, before starting to arrange the cabinet. It was a simple procedure, just putting the new snacks in, and tidying up the cabinet as he went. Stocking the sodas went much the same.
As he worked, Louiza also slid behind the bar, fixing herself a drink, a simple rum and coke. "Join me for a drink, Timbre?"
Timbre smiled as he turned to face her. "I really shouldn't, I have to get back to the caf.."
"You liver loving bastard, have a damn drink!" Rando shouted from his couch. Amongst Brothers of Booze, a liver lover was someone who didn't filter their livers through with copious amounts of alcohol, a near sin amongst Brothers. And since Adie had convinced Timbre to get on the short list of prospective Brothers recruitment, Timbre found himself having to drink more and more. Not that he didn't enjoy the occasional drink, he just wasn't usually a heavy drinker. Which was actually quite acceptable amongst Brothers (where the emphasis was on alcohol enjoyment, not abuse), but almost all Brothers enjoyed their alcohol on a daily basis.
"C'mon, bottoms up." Louiza said with a grin, handing her rum and coke over to Timbre. "Not like ya'll need to be stone sober to grill up a fish."
"Grilling is BETTER when sauced!" added Rando.
Timbre smiled, and shook his head in defeat. "Cheers then."
"Hold up, cant join a girl if she dont have 'er own drink." Louiza chided as she fixed up a new rum and coke. With that done, she then raised her own glass. "Cheers!"
Glasses clinked, and gulps were taken. Gulps immediately interrupted by an absolutely undesirable sort of person.
"Louiza you ho!" A new voice shouted. "Son of a f'king *Watch your language!*, who let you back in?!"
-
Scott was a large man, but more round then large. But still intimidating. His brown hair was clipped short, and his face generally kept clean shaven. He was sporting several days worth of stubble now, cursed with the misery that was a neck-beard. He was drunk. It was obvious in the way he shouted, how he grabbed at the doorframe for support. But he was still lucid enough to walk well enough, however unstable he though he might be.
Louiza put her drink down on the bar, leaning against it for a moment. "Scott." She said simply, her eyes narrowing.
"You thieving ho, what let you show your damn face back here?" Scott snarled.
Timbre grit his teeth quietly. He knew Scott, and Scott was usually an okay guy. A good pilot, one of the best Iron Kong drivers in Europa. But now? Timbre had never seen anybody like this before in his life.
"Scott, calm down." He said, taking a step forward. "That's no way to spe.."
He was cut off by Scott taking several swift steps in Timbre's direction, then slamming a meaty fist into Timbre's gut.
Timbre was thrown back by the punch, and took several steps back, doubled over in pain. His thin frame did not absorb abuse very well, and gut punches will hurt anyone. Timbre fought back nausea as he tried to straighten himself up.
"Y'bastard, what give's ya'll the gall to do that?" Louiza shouted, taking a step in front of Timbre, getting between the two men.
By now, Rando had lifted himself from the couch, and was making his approach to Scott.
"Don't protect the little puss! You ho, stealin MY gojulas, breakin MY hear..."
"You broke that crap y'self. And I won Goji fair an' square! Don't you DARE call me a ho, you cheatery bastard."
Rando had made his way to Scott, and grabbed at the man's arm. "That's enough, Scott."
Scott ripped away, stumbling to one side. "Ain't nothin enough! Ho's and puss had it comin!"
"Do not call Louiza that, you motherless bastard." Timbre growled in a new voice. His normally calm tone had dropped to a dangerous gruff that surprised even him. He had straightened himself up, still hurting from the blow, but able to tolerate it in the face of the new danger he saw. Timbre took a slow step foward, his eyes narrow. "You will apologize."
"Wont!" Scott laughed. "What'cha gonna do about it, puss? Y'cant fight."
Timbre snarled, and threw himself at Scott, slamming into the other man's impressive bulk. But it was to little purpose, as Scott's superior strength won over any sort of finesse Timbre may have had. Scott's elbow slammed into the side of Timbre's face, swatting him aside.
Timbre had not taken many heavy blows (that he knew of) in his life, and this was certainly a new experience. For a few moments, all he could really feel was... well, nothing. It felt like his brain had been surrounded in buzzing red balls of itchy wool, which, coincidentally, was about all he could see. He was dazed, to say the least, and stumbled to the floor, falling to his knees, and trying to steady himself with one hand, the other clutching at his head.
It was at this point that Rando finally stepped in, using his even more superior bulk to grab Scott in a bear hug, pinning the man still. "ENOUGH!"
By now, other pilots and mechanics had approached, and Scott was dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming. Louiza was quick to follow Scott out, both to further yell at him, and escape the incredibly uncomfortable situation that had just presented it's self in the rec room. Another pilot, Valu, went to Timbre, helping steady him.
"Y' okay?" He asked.
Timbre was fighting back tears, and could not answer for a moment. The blow slammed hard into his temple, and he was somewhat dazed as a result. Well, okay, really dazed. And his mild concussion had just flashed from red numbness, to splitting, eyeball popping pain. It was a hurt Timbre vaugely seemed to remember, but from what, he was unsure. Or, he would be unsure upon pondering it later. Right at that moment, his brain was still in the polite 'off' setting as bits of fire flashed about his skull.
"He's gonna feel that later." A mechanic, Jacko from the weapons shop, said. He grabbed a wet rag from the bar, and helped Timbre over to a stool, putting the cool rag over Timbre's quickly forming bruise.
"What the hell just happened?" yelled Adie, who stormed in from the hall. She noticed Timbre, and rushed over. "Eve Tam, what the hell did you do?"
Valu snorted. "Tam didn't do nothin. Scott sucker-punched the kid."
"Eve. Get him some ice, or a bloody drink or something." Adie said, taking the rag from Jocko, holding it to Timbre's head.