Valentine's Doodle 2019; or, Take A-A-A-Another Piece of My Heart Now Baby
a/n: In my XCX, H.B. and Frye are terrible friends, men have fought duels over my crème brûlée, and the Ma-non are absolute geniuses. Thanks to DeltaMachina for detailing how brilliant the Ma-non are.
Slight swears, H.B. abuse.
All the good things belong to the hard working people at Monolith Soft (and DeltaMachina), and I wish them and you a Happy Valentine's Day.
"Don't argue. This is clearly the most efficient method, and I'm quite sure it will become standard procedure with BLADE once we demonstrate the possibilities."
"I wasn't arguing, H.B. I was saying that I just can't shake the feeling that something is gonna go horribly wrong," Frye said good-naturedly.
The first man shot an emerald gimlet glance at his sturdier companion and repressed a sniff. He couldn't deny that the situation was regrettably chaotic. They were surrounded by a dozen ovis which they had just driven into a makeshift corral. The animals were mostly docile, but their leathery pelts and muscular forms made it somewhat dangerous to be in their midst. The animals were unnerved by the close quarters and were pushing against each other. One younger ovis failed an attempt to jump over a slightly larger one, ending up lodged on top of the other's back until it managed to flail itself free.
Frye pushed a large tail out of his face and stood up. (Ovis concentrated all their fluff into this one feature, and as a result their tails resembled giant pompoms.) He hefted an insulated cylinder with consideration. "Mine's about half full. How you doing?"
"One more should finish mine," H.B. said smugly.
Frye laughed. "I could make so many rude cracks, but you make it too easy, buddy. Instead, how about we swap and we get this done faster." He waded through the flock and forced his canister into H.B.'s hands.
H.B. turned away without comment and shoved his way towards a likely pair of animals. When he maneuvered himself between the calf and its mother, the youngling bleated in distress. H.B. was quick to respond before the mother could become agitated. He held out a sugar cube in the palm of the gloved hand. He almost felt a twinge of guilt at not revealing his secret to Frye before his competitive nature re-established dominance. With mother and calf calm again, he turned to the day's main business: collecting rare materials for a special client. Or, to put it in other words, milking ovis so Lin Lee Koo could cook, of all things, crème brûlée for Valentine's Day.
To be honest, H.B. was a little disappointed that Lin had chosen a dessert so unchallenging. While the dish was quite exquisite when properly prepared, it could hardly be called complicated. Five ingredients, a little heat, the patience to let it chill sufficiently, and then the flash of direct fire at the end to create the golden crust. None of it a problem, except for one thing: fresh cream wasn't easy to acquire on the planet Mira.
H.B. had actually been contemplating improvements in food acquisition for the city, so he'd been quick to volunteer for this "mission", and he had been pleasantly surprised by Frye's offer to help. He wasn't going to cavil at the other man's motives. "That pudding of hers is bomb-diddly-tastic. I once got in a fist fight over it when this dude called it sweetened scrambled eggs." (At times H.B. wondered if there was a topic over which Frye wouldn't get into an alcohol-fueled altercation.)
Going all the way out to Oblivia had been a bit of an indulgence. As Frye had pointed out as they left the city, there were plenty of ovis within walking distance of the East Gate. But H.B. had replied that those individuals were of distinctly inferior quality. Perhaps it had something to do with the stream of skells that left the city along the road bordering their pasture. Frye had laughed. "You're probably right about that. Some of the little suckers have tread marks on their butts." H.B. kept silent, feigning ignorance at the prevalent amusement of driving in tight circles through the local flock and making them fly into the air. Ovis donuts: was it wrong? Maybe. Was it hilarious? Yes, yes it was.
H.B. had already developed schematics for a corral using two skell shields that were deformed and extended outwards for the purpose of temporarily holding livestock. He was pleased that the system was as efficient to implement as he had hoped. They'd left the skells humming and the shields sparking slightly while he and Frye had found a small but pristine flock right at the entrance of Oblivia. It had been surprisingly easy to herd the innocent ovis into the rough containment area. Then the two men had set about collecting the milk, again with more success than H.B. had hoped for. Videos and manuals had provided considerable aid, even in the case of Frye, never one to boast about his ability to learn most things.
H.B.'s satisfied musings were interrupted by a shove that knocked him painfully into the side of the mother ovis. He blindly tried to push the calf away with his shoulder, only to realize he was pushing against Frye's knees. "What is it?" he snapped.
"I figured out the problem. All these babies, makes for a tasty target."
"Oh. Dear." Now on his feet, H.B. could see a pack of wolf-like grex, slowly surrounding the area. "The shields are meant to keep the ovis in, not to keep enemies out." One predator made a sudden feint at the barrier.
"Yup. We can either bail or defend the herd."
"If we get to the skells, we should be safe. We have enough material, even with your sorry collection."
"Or we can do the other thing," Frye said, unsheathing his longsword.
"Are you blind or can't you count? I'm seeing at least eight of them."
"Make it twelve. I heard a few behind the ridge, probably ready to catch any ovis that escape."
"You can't fight all of them," spluttered H.B.
Frye grinned and handed H.B. his milkcan. "Dude, hold my beer."
xcxcxcxcxcxcxcportpleasexcxcxcxcxcxcxcx
Several brutal but efficient minutes later, H.B. was reformatting the shields when Frye sauntered back from an inspection of the perimeter. "All the moms and kids are safe and sound. They don't even act like anything unusual has happened. That's livestock for you. 'Abducted and probed by aliens? Just another Tuesday.'"
"We didn't probe them."
"Somebody do to me what we did to them? I'd take offense, if you get my drift."
"Honestly, Frye, it is not the same thing at all. We merely…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don't need to hear how right you are. Are we done yet?"
"Yes, _I_ restored the shields," H.B. said, placing stress on the singular pronoun.
"Great. Let's get back and maybe we'll be shovelling grub into our faces before midnight."
"Your phrasing is beyond charm," H.B. said with dismay.
"What? You sound grumpy. Almost like my brother Phog when he's hungry." Frye tried to ruffle H.B.'s hair. "Now who's a grumpy puppy? Who is? Who is? You are, is what you are."
"Stop that. I am not grumpy. I am eager to get back to New Los Angeles and review this mission."
"Well, you sound grumpy to me. Hey, I know. I'll give you your Valentine's present early."
H.B. looked at Frye with shock. "You got me a present?"
"Sure did. Kind of a silly one, but they're the hottest thing on the market. Literally." Frye pulled a silvery package from one of the many pockets of his weathered combat pants. He tossed it to H.B.
The item was slightly smaller than H.B.'s fist, industrially sealed and decorated with cheerful pink hearts. H.B. read the packaging. "Candid & Credible Valentine's Pizza Heart Supreme. Behold, a confection with center-filled goodness! For friends and family and sharing and stuff, okay? We made it accurate because we just don't get doing anything else, you follow?" The small alien Ma-non clearly hadn't quite understood standard copy format.
"The squeakies outdid themselves," explained Frye. "The wrapper keeps the thing warm for like, I dunno, forever. MREs can eat their hearts out."
H.B. opened up the wrapper and looked at the contents. A toasty brown pastry in the shape somewhere between a rounded triangle and a pear, and indeed warm to the touch. "A pizza pocket," he said without enthusiasm.
Frye was already unwrapping a second one. "They switch the flavors up, so you never quite know what you'll get, but I haven't hit a stinker yet. Try it."
Despite his suspicions, H.B. refused to be intimidated by a hot pocket. He took a healthy bite into the object and immediately yelped wildly. He spat the putative foodstuff onto the sand, and was shocked to see the spatter of red. "Arghhhahhhahhhh!"
"Easy there, H.B. I told you the packaging kept them hot. You don't just go biting blindly into one of these things."
"I'm bleeding!" H.B. howled.
Frye stared at H.B. blankly, then started to cackle. "That's pizza sauce, you idiot. We bleed blue now, remember?" He waved his own pizza pocket in explanation. "You don't bite into the bottom part to start with. The left ventricle is sauce, the right is cheese, and both will mess you up if you eat them too early. Better to take a nibble of the atriums first. Let's see now … mine is …" He took one exploratory bite and then another. "Huh. Garlic and rock orange. Not my favorite combo, I gotta say, but not too bad." He blew on the steaming pocket and grinned at the stunned H.B.
"Ventricle? Atrium?! You mean they patterned these after …!"
"Real human hearts? Yup. Happy Valentine's Day, pal."
a/n: DeltaMachina came up with the Ma-non version of Valentine's Day candy and its copy and kindly let me use it here. The XCX discorb is a place of great support and joy.
MRE == meals ready to eat, about 1450 Calories all together, and I watched Youngest Child consume one in about 0.5 seconds once. Hungry child.
Happy Valentine's Day 2019
I love you guys so much
I wrote this instead of
Downloading the Daemon x Machina demo