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1: A Dish Best Served Cold
After months of torment, Zane has finally had enough of Cole's atrocious cooking and decides to put an end to it.
1000-ish words.
I like to pride myself as being a calm, collected individual. It is a stance I have worked hard to maintain, especially given the circumstances of our mission. Training the destined Green Ninja, fighting Lord Garmadon, saving the world- It is a heavy burden that might crush a lesser person and one I have devoted myself to following through.
Even before discovering my origins, I'd been told time and again of my strange, "robotic" ways that apparently bordered on complete apathy. But since becoming a member of this team I have instead changed my disposition to one of quiet and careful objectivity. It's been my experience working with my brothers and teammates that, in the face of danger, at least one of us has to maintain a cool composure. As the Master of Ice, it seemed appropriate that I take on the role. Of course, I am only human (or as human as a "nindroid" can be) and can… have my moments.
This is one of those moments.
"Zane, buddy, could you pass me the tomato juice?"
Cole holds a hand out to me and for a second all I can do is stare at his outstretched fingers.
"Tomato juice? Aren't you making fish fillets-?"
"I'm trying something new," he flashes a smile that does nothing to change my expression. "Trust me."
Now, I do trust Cole. As a friend, a brother, and a fellow ninja. He is a good leader, a good teammate, and a good man. As such I do my best to… tolerate the rougher edges of his personality. I understand the others have shorter fuses- Kai had suggested an "intervention" of sorts to confront the black ninja on his intolerable cooking (which inspired ship-wide agreement)- but I have held off so far based on the premise that, as we have grown through training, Cole would also grow through violent trial and error. But as I stare down his questionable choice of tomato sauce and fish, I am starting to doubt my position.
Perhaps a few words of advice will push him in the right direction.
"I don't think that is a good decision," I say carefully. "Perhaps a lemon or parsley sauce-"
Cole gives me a pointed look. "Zane, I know you're the Master Chef and all, but I totally know what I'm doing. Chill."
My jaw shifts and I feel my hands tighten beneath my crossed arms. Ice fills my stomach like a clamp of iron (which could itself be a factor given that it has been a while since I oiled my inner systems) and I take another deep, frigid breath.
Perhaps a bigger push, then.
"Cole, I understand you like to… experiment with your dishes, but if I might suggest-"
He rolls his eyes and another glacier shifts in my abdomen. "Zane, Zane, Zane- did your gears jam up or something? I said I'm fine. Seriously."
He reaches past me to grab the tomato juice, and I have to take another calming breath.
Calm, cool, collected. It is what I was built for, what I have made myself to be. I will not lose myself over something as mundane as-
The can snaps open with a pop of the instrument in Cole's hands, scattering a few drops of the sauce onto the countertop. Why was he always so careless-?
Calm. Cool. Collected.
He removes the lid with the flick of his hand, throwing it in the garbage before turning back to the pan in front of him. I can only imagine what the others will say when he serves it, how they will come to me after dinner asking for another makeshift meal to replace the one they'd picked at because it was so awful-
Cole begins to tip the can into the dish, and I find myself grasping his wrist.
"What the-"
"I can't take this anymore."
I tug the can of tomato sauce away from him and place it on the counter. Cole I push aside until he is a safe distance from the food, giving him a careful look as I retrieve my own tools.
"Zane, what are you doing-?"
"Fixing this," I take a glance at the pan and nearly throw in the towel altogether. "You cut these much too large."
"Well sorry, Iron Chef, but this is my dinner day-!"
Cole cuts off with a yelp as I turn on him- my favored large-bladed knife clasped in my hand. I narrow my eyes at him as the ice overtakes my chest.
"I have had enough of this travesty you call dinner. I have done my best to stomach the thought and even try to steer you in the right direction, but perhaps you are better suited to punching bags than trying to make anything more than a bowl of cereal."
Cole is stunned, that much is apparent in his wide eyes, and even I don't completely understand the words that fly from my mouth. But now that I've started I cannot stop.
"You are a talented ninja and a capable leader, but I am sorry to tell you that your cooking skills are not even sub-par- they are an absolute insult to the culinary arts. The others have been begging me to say something to you for months, but I thought that, like all things, you would learn. But apparently you are as capable of being taught as a rock. I would like to not get physical with you, Cole, but I can and will if you do not step out of this kitchen right. Now."
He takes a step back. "Al-Alright, Zane. Uh- whatever you say, I guess…"
I lower my blade. "Thank you."
"I'll just- uh- go hang out with the others, I guess," he takes another careful step toward the door, then pauses with a grimace. "Am I… Am I really that bad?"
"Please, Cole. Do yourself a favor and go."
"Right. I'm leaving," he ducks out the door, leaving me alone with a mutilated meal and my own conscience.
I turn back to the countertop and select a filet, dropping it on the cutting board as I begin to chop it into more manageable pieces.
"Calm, cool, collected."