21 His fist flew...
a/n: A bar fight in the Repenta and IT'S NOT FRYE?! Wolf has had quite the week and his nerves are frayed.
Wolf is the scary bald trainer near the Missions board in game. Duna Valdileo is on the Ma-non ship.
All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. Arya I borrowed from ChronoBlader. Still haven't named the bouncer, sigh.
Wolf was too tired to be drinking even weak beer, but he needed this break. This week had been almost as bad as the previous, even though thank god BLADE had cleared up the weird flu that had halved the fighting force. That had been so bad that he'd only come home to NLA for refueling and swapping in new weapons. Now at least he could manage a meal and maybe half a beer before heading out. Maybe by next week, things would be stable enough to resume his duties in NLA.
He sunk his head over the untouched beer. He wasn't entirely sure what his duties were anymore. Another Harrier was working the advice station by the Mission board. His program partner had been managing the xeno-training scheme all on her own and didn't seem to need or want his help anymore. He wasn't surprised. Miss Duna Valdileo could handling the problems of the small group of hopeful alien BLADE recruits as easily as she handled her family's and clan's problems. He probably needed to get used to away missions for the coming future.
The manager of the Repenta, Arya, brought him a hamburger plate that was already in danger of going as untouched as the beer. He should drag himself off to bed and grab a nap instead. Except he wasn't sure where his bed was, since he'd been bunking up on the Ma-non ship for months at this point. If he wasn't needed up there, he probably should see about shifting back to NLA proper. In the meantime he'd just grab a cot at the Harrier's encampment. He sat up straight and prepared to do a little damage to his meal, if only symbolically, before heading out.
Arya hadn't moved too far away. She was chatting with the hulking Prone leaning against the bar. It didn't take a genius at eavesdropping to discover this was one of the Repenta's newest bouncers. Wolf listened and realized the man wasn't new at all. He shook his head. It really had been a while since he'd hung out in the city. He guessed that would be changing now, and his limited appetite vanished.
"Where's that date you've been seeing recently? She hasn't been by in a while," Arya was saying.
"We are no couple. I seek nothing she wants." The Prone preened and flexed a giant arm.
Arya lazily wiped the bar countertop. "Too bad. She was a cute girl."
He laughed. "She is hardly a girl. She is a woman grown and older than I. Besides, she has too much family and more every day."
"Fine, have it your way." Arya looked slyly at her employee. "Still, even for a Prone woman, she was one hot mama."
The Prone's laugh became unnaturally loud. "Is it so with your people as well? The same?" he brayed. "Do your women also flare hotter when they bake a new loaf?"
"Uh, well, maybe?" Arya said with slight surprise. "Are you saying she has a bun in the oven? Like she's preg- - -"
Wolf plowed into the bouncer, shoving him away from the bar. He barely came up to the alien's shoulder, but he had speed, surprise, and experience on his side. Wolf might not be fresh, but he had transported the bouncer all the way to the exit before the other fighter thought to do more than roar and threaten.
The fresh air seemed to focus the Prone's limited skills. His fist flew straight at Wolf's face, but the BLADE fighter was too close for the impact to mean much. Wolf took the blow, then slid past the follow-up punch, hooking himself under the Prone's arm and swinging him in a wide circle, every step moving them away from the Repenta. A drunken Interceptor cheered but Wolf ignored that. The last thing he wanted was an audience.
The Prone tried to grapple with Wolf, and that might have been effective if Wolf hadn't spent the last six months training against Prone recruits. He grabbed right back, lower than the Prone expected, and lifted the man off the ground. It was a bumpy few seconds, less a carry than a bouncing walk. Wolf released the other fighter with a push that knocked the man off balance, and right where Wolf wanted. The Prone reeled backwards into a shipping container. The steel wall rang like a gong. Wolf launched himself into the man's chest, pinning him against the metal.
"I got one question. Who's the woman?"
Something dawned in the Prone's major eyes. "You are the one she works with."
"Is it Miss Valdilea?"
The Prone stood there, massive and at peace. "She talks so much about her work, I should have known."
"IS IT?"
"Ask her."
"I'M ASKING YOU!"
"Gather calm, human. Yes." The Prone reached down and pushed Wolf away, but without hostility. "And before you continue as Duna's warrior, do not think she wants me any more than I want her." His slabs of hands held Wolf still, but the pressure wasn't unkind.
Wolf's breathing was ragged and if he could have reached the Prone, he would have... Instead, he forced himself to stand as still as the Prone, glaring up into the broad blue face.
The Prone patted him genially on the shoulder and flicked his face tentacles in the equivalent of a smile. "It is as I said, we are no couple. She asked and I helped, that is all. She wants me as a husband even less than I want a wife. She was always unconventional. That is why we are friends."
"I beg your pardon, then," Wolf said stiffly. "If you'll excuse me." The mimetic fluid pounding in his ears drowned out whatever the Prone shouted at him as he walked away.
a/n: Apologies, but this is a late scene from a half finished and mostly abandoned work (The Treasure of O'rrh Sim). But I keep hoping it isn't dead. The bar countertop showed up in "Drunkard, Hobo, Liar/17" and asked the question that Arya was relaying.
Next up: Why can't the Christophs be normal? Just for a little bit? Thank you to KrustyCheetahs for the prompt.