gunsforhire | Log: All The Small Things

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Log: All The Small Things

Who: Wash (OU) and you!
What: Wash has completed his first job as a mercenary and is out to celebrate it
Where: Out and about in town, picking up some better equipment, and then to the Eagle and Asp for a drink
When: Afternoon to night 29/11
Warnings: None so far

It hadn't been the most glamorous of jobs, but any notion of glamour had been beaten out of him practically the day he'd enlisted. The important thing was that his first job as a registered mercenary had gone well and that was the first step to being able to take care of himself without having to rely on other people. Sure, it would take a few more jobs before he felt comfortable, but it was a start.

That was cause enough for celebration, right?

His first step is to head out to a supplier to stock up on equipment. Nothing fancy for now, but enough to get him started. A good gun or two, and a solid combat knife.

There's other things that he needs, an almost overwhelming amount, he realises now that he has the money to start thinking about it. Clothes that aren't fatigues or armour, and there's so many different kinds that it takes him far longer than it should to pick out what he needs.

And once that's done, he heads to the Eagle and Asp for a drink. It feels appropriate somehow.

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"Beyond that," Delta chuckles, shaking his head. "The thing is, it's not even the children who are the biggest handful. That honor is a tie between Epsilon and Gamma most days, but it is what it is."

Now he has to admit that the look of the guy trying to defend himself with the bags from the store is a bit amusing, so he smiles to himself as he says it.

Edited 2015-12-11 02:38 (UTC)

Epsilon. A handful. Who would have guessed? York knows. He hopes that's enough, but at some point is he going to have to stand in front of Delta and say 'oh yeah, your brother was insane and killed himself in my head and by the way, none of you were human where I'm from'. He can't imagine that going down well.

"Kids are more easily entertained I guess. Teenagers? Teenagers and older are just kind of a mess. I know I was." Still is.

"If you ever hear a truly insane conspiracy theory online that seems too off the wall and yet just good enough that maybe it might actually be true... That might be Gamma."

Delta sighs and shakes his head. How many times has Gamma hacked his grades.

"Adults are a mess too, but the kids are pretty happy. Except for the things that they won't have fun with."

"I heard one of those once. Some guys insisted that they'd been thrown forward in time. To be fair, there was some really weird shit going on but time travel is a little far-fetched."

Wyoming had a lot to answer for. And Omega.

"Must be nice, to have not enjoying stuff be the most important thing yo care about."

They're going on six, that's the thing they're most concerned about. But yes, I do envy them that," Delta replies, his voice a bit somber.

He longs for it himself.

And thank god, here they are, just outside of the smoothie place. Delta holds the outer airlock door open for Wash. Those bags have to be a pain.

He's sure that this is about the point where he's supposed to give some platitude about how things are always darkest before the dawn or something like that. He doesn't believe it and he doubts that Delta would appreciate it.

He gives a grateful smile when Delta holds the door for him, and heads up to the counter. There is a dizzying array of smoothies. And so many of them are so much fruit. It has to be frozen right? Or tinned stuff.

"You have any idea what you want?"

Bless the lack of platitudes. Delta wouldn't forgive him for such behavior. Not at all.

But all Delta could tell Wash if he asked about what the flavors were, would be that what wasn't tinned stuff was flavored powders. You want real fruit you've got to go to a far higher end place than this. Except bananas. Somehow those grow and ship really well and are used frozen.

"Nothing with chocolate," is Delta's pronunciation as he stares at the options. After a moment he sighs. It's... not been long enough for chocolate yet.

"I think I'll go with Pineapple berry."

Hadn't York said that Delta loved chocolate? He remembers that, so something has obviously happened. Not really his place to ask though. He's not entangling himself when he's still adjusting to Delta being human. And still alive.

He stares at the board for a few moments more before deciding. "Blueberry, apple and pear," he decides. It sounds tasty. Everything sounds good. He hands over the credits to pay for them and sets his bags down.

"Pears are pretty interesting," Delta says, because he needs something to talk about right now. "Did you know that a majority of fruit juices are made with a base of pear juice? It's a juice that has a relatively plain taste that is easily covered by other fruit tastes, and it's full of vitamins, minerals, and other things that are really good for you. So you're making your smoothie taste little different, but a lot more healthy for you."

There, useless mom trivia.

"Yeah?" Wash says, and he glances back at Delta curiously. "I always thought they just... squashed the fruits," he says, grinning. "Never thought juice was actually a monstrous chimera of fruit."

"Well they do. They blend and filter the fruits to get a lot of the pulp out. But it can be expensive, and in the case of cranberry juice, dangerous to go with a pure blend sometimes," he explains. "So you start with something cheap because no one really wants it for much else but it's easy to grow. You start with pears. Add other stuff in and you've got a great juice. Which is why most things are listed as fruit cocktails."

Wash will just stare at him, intrigued but also not entirely sure he isn't being trolled. "Why is cranberry juice dangerous?" He shakes his head. "Oh my god, all of my life I've been lied to!" He smirks though, joking about this at least. "How could I have been so blind?"

"Don't ask Omega that, he'll start talking to you about corporate manipulation and the need of the lower class to rebel and..." Delta just waves that line of thought aside. But he's smiling, which is something.

"Cranberries are highly acidic, Mister Washington. There is a small chance that if one were to consume pure cranberry juice, it might damage the lining of the stomach. This is variable depending on the person, but it has happened. In fact, for those individuals who have difficulties with digestion due to insufficiently strong stomach acid, it is recommended that one drinks cranberry juice with their meals. It's also a treatment for a variety of other bodily issues due to its natural enzymes and such. I understand it's good for a UTI. Burns the infection out."

Cranberry juice is just cool. He smiles again and looks up when Washington's name is called. "You should go pick up those smoothies for us."

"So if I ever felt the need to start a small revolution he'd be the person to talk to," is the amused response.

"I'm not a Mister," is the response which is absolutely not what he should be focused on, but it's what comes out of his mouth. "I mean... Just Wash is fine." He's never been a 'Mister'. It had always been a rank, or 'Agent'. "I can't believe I've just been blindly eating fruit all this time." When apparently cranberries sounded like they could burn through steel.

He nods and goes to collect their drinks, then heads back to hand Delta's over. "They look good."

"Actually, he's the person you would talk to if you felt the need to start a massive revolution," Delta counters when Washington returns with their smoothies. "Something small would be below his notice."

"Alright, Wash," he does allow, though, not even considering the other Wash he knows in the prospect. He'll just call that one Washington. Not like they're friends. "And it's okay to blindly eat fruit. Fruit, as with most things, is dangerous in high quanta. A little bit of pure cranberry juice isn't going to hurt you. Enough of it will. Just like water. Just like air. Just like life."

Life: the ultimate source of pain and sorrow.

He shakes the thought off and takes a sip of his drink. "So, Wash, what brings you to Adaptive in general, or Gulch in particular?"

"Ah, a revolutionary with a massive ego. I'm sure that will end well," Wash says dryly.

"Life's a bitch and then you die," Wash agrees. "And sometimes you don't die." Even when you really should. "But good. I really like fruit." Doesn't want to give it up. Probably wouldn't even if he was told fruit was potent poison.

He tastes his smoothie and oh, that's pretty good. He shrugs, because it isn't a question he can answer easily. "Ex-military. I just kind of... drifted here. It's as good a place as any. People are a bit more reserved so it's not as overwhelming as anywhere more crowded."

"We're reserved?" Delta asks, chuckling. "You do realize we have legal brothels on this planet, right? I wouldn't call Adaptive reserved. Not even remotely. Just... subservient in a large degree."

He shrugs it off. Whatever. "Some people drift here. I can't imagine why. Adaptive isn't a nice place to live, even when you get past the weather being literally deadly. As a security guard I worry for you, given the existence and almost lauding of mercenaries."

"Yeah. It's the... the helmets give you a certain amount of space and ability to keep yourself anonymous," he explained. "You tend to stay further apart from other people even in crowds because of them, have to cover up completely because of the clouds." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "Crowds make me nervous. People pressing close is uncomfortable." He frowns. "Not sure what you mean by Subservient though."

He shakes his head, smile returning. "I'm ex-military and my team was highly combat focused. If I can't take out a merc, I deserve to get my ass kicked."

"Don't get cocky when facing a merc," Delta warns him. "I don't care about your experience. Always assume that there is someone here who is better. because there probably is. It's safer to trust they are as good as you until you have proof otherwise. As for the other thing..."

Delta shakes his head and takes a long sip of his smoothie. It's mostly stuff his older brother has been feeding him for so long that he can't help but think of it. "There are a lot of people who would point out that city-state governments are corrupt, the corporations are in power, and we are subject to their whims, especially when it comes to helmet and building air systems."

"I'm not cocky," Wash replies. "I know exactly how good I am. And I know there's plenty better. But I also know I wasn't the best of my team by a long shot, but I am the last one standing." Because he was just too stubborn to die.

He listens to what Delta explains, a little sceptical. "Your brother is going to have a hell of a shock if he ever goes off-world. Because that sounds like any other place I've been. Hell, it sounds like the military. It's just more pronounced here."

"He's not wrong, though," Delta counters. "Charon Industries is an extreme powerhouse here on the planet. Most people don their first Charon product moments before they are taken out of the hospital after their birth, and we are typically bound to them until death. Charon heads up the certification process for all helmet techs, whether we're working Charon products or not. Granted you have to get smaller licenses to work with other companies' systems, but it's Charon that holds the power. Hell, the corp has powerful standings in a number of major cities, and it's own undercity. C4-R0N is considered one of the most economically stable and balanced places on the planet, as well as one of the more secure ones." Again he must shake his head, because it's all so weird to be talking about. "There's also rumors that we might end up at war with Zanzibar again in the near future. They staged what one might consider a minor attack on us a while back. And the UNSC? It does nothing. Adaptive is a major source of fuel for interstellar travel and so they let the corps do what they want for the sake of that. We're one of a surprisingly small number of planets where slavery is basically legal, despite the fact that it is extremely illegal. Actually, it's flat out illegal in all legal codes established on all human colony worlds. Yet it's still practically openly practiced on a large area of our world."

Charon. Charon Industries. Something about that is familiar but he can't place it. Maybe he's just seen the name here. Maybe he saw it at home sometime. It doesn't matter.

Just listening to what Delta says makes him curious about this company and their undercity. Seems like a place that would be interesting to get into and poke around in. "UNSC is fine with sacrificing lives needlessly, trust me," he says sourly. Soldiers were ultimately replaceable, even in the middle of a war. "As long as the chain of command is upheld, they don't give a damn." He wouldn't expect them to care about the lives of anyone here.

"And let me guess, they end up mainly doing work for Charon, even indirectly."

"The UNSC has a way of staying out of everything important, so I guess you could say that they indirectly help certain corps," Delta shrugs. "It's easier for them to stay out of it because their three cities are all on islands. The whole 'not being on anyone's side but rather on everyone's side thing. I always thought it was a bit strange..."

But that was just the way the UNSC worked. And, honestly, it would be an amazsing way to get off of Adaptive.

"Long story short... world sucks."

"Technically they're supposed to be on the side of humanity. As long as humanity agrees with them." It wasn't as though he'd had any qualms about fighting insurrectionists. But these days? He thinks he can understand why people might not be happy to toe the line and follow the letter of the law laid down by the UNSC. He shakes his head. "Not that I'm bitter or anything."

"The whole universe sucks, Delta. Other places just have prettier window dressing."

"You're wrong," Delta counters. "No other world wants so much to kill us for existing. You..."

He shakes his head and sips his drink a bit. It's easier.

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