Disclaimer: I own nothing. Brendon Small is a god. 'Nuff said.
For the rest of the pre-chapter comments please see Chapter 7….
(Thanks Alessandra for the note- I made the correction ;) )
This is the longest chapter yet… woo! It's starting to lighten up now….
Charles didn't even ask where they were going. The long walk was starting to take its toll on his post-surgery body. The task of trying to maintain a mental image of where they were, while interpreting information gained from the cane was staring to overwhelm him. Mordhaus had never seemed so large and so daunting. But Charles kept up, hoping they would reach their destination soon. Eventually, after a long, brisk walk, Nathan announced something.
Not really registering Nathan's comment, Charles breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way to the wall that the door was on, and felt for the palm-pad. He had found it and was about to unlock the door when Nathan interrupted,
"Do not tell me that you have access to our bedroom locking systems..."
"What? No, of course not. Why would I… Wait. Nathan, are we at your room?"
"Yes. Where else would I go after liver-transplant recovery? But I know how to get to your office from here, so we're fine. I'm just going to grab something and I'll be right back."
"That's fine. Actually, do you, ah, mind if I sit down for a minute?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. Are you okay?" Nathan asked with concern. "Do you want me to call the doctors?"
"No. No. I just think I may have over-exerted myself with this, ah, extended walk. Those surgeons do such a good job you forget you're still recovering..."
As Charles was saying this he heard Nathan open the door. The larger man then asked, "Do you want me to guide you to where you can sit?"
"Yes. Thank you. I, ah, just need a minute…" Charles felt Nathan take a gentle hold of his forearm and lead him forward. Soon they came to the edge of something and Nathan indicated for Charles to sit.
He found himself sinking slightly into the surface when he sat down. He felt out around his body and realized that he was sitting on the edge of a bed.
"Is this your bed?" Charles asked.
"Yeah. I don't actually have any chairs lying around… Not big on sitting, I guess. Oh, but don't worry, the groupies are all passed out on the other side of the bed.
"What?" Charles went to stand up again, and Nathan stopped him with a light hand.
"God, no, I'm kidding! There's no one here but us. Seriously, groupies know to leave when the show's over, if you know what I mean."
Taking a deep breath, and only half listening, Charles sank back down on the bed. He set the still-unfolded cane next to him. Then, without even realizing it, he slipped off his glasses and massaged his brow and temples, careful to avoid the sonar devices.
"Man, are you sure you're okay?" Nathan asked, approaching cautiously.
"Yes. I'm fine. Just a little headache… It'll pass…"
"Do you want anything… uh, water, booze..?" Nathan trailed off, unsure what else he should offer.
"Ah, actually do you happen to have any brandy?" A little brandy-reunion was high on Charles' list of things to do when he made it back to his own apartment, and he felt a few sips would take the edge off the pain he was feeling now.
"Brandy… yeah I think so… let me take a look…"
Charles heard Nathan's footsteps receding and then what sounded like a heavy door being opened.
"Nathan?" he called out, suddenly a little uneasy with being left alone in this unknown space.
"Yeah, hey, I'm just looking for it…." The sound of glass bottles being shifted and clinked followed, and then suddenly Nathan exclaimed, "Yes! I found one! It's…. it says Horse Age…? What the fuck? Should I grab another one?"
"Oh, that's H'ors d'Age… It's French. That's good. Very good... Aged beyond what they were able to keep track of."
"Well then Horse Brandy it is. There are these special glasses with it, they're short and roundish…"
"Yes, that sounds right. Those are called snifters. Ah, how do you have all this stuff and not know what it is?"
"Oh, I had a booze chamber installed and fully stocked by the Gears," came Nathan's reply from some distance away. "It's about the size of that hospital room you were in, maybe a bit bigger."
Wow, thought Charles. How did he miss that in the expense report? The question was answered for him as Nathan spoke again.
"Got the idea from Pickles. The thing just got finished, like yesterday, I think. It's pretty awesome!"
Well, at least he had brandy, Charles mused.
As Nathan approached it occurred to Charles to ask,
"So have you had Brandy before?"
"Huh? Oh I dunno. Yeah, probably!" Charles could hear the bottle being opened and then the rushed pouring of liquid. He stopped Nathan.
"Ah, there's kind of an art to brandy… You want to pour it gently… it's all part of the experience. And only about the bottom quarter of the glass…You might want to go easy at first. Do you want me to pour it?"
"What? Do I want a blind man pouring brandy on my bed? No. And okay, so you only want a little bit. But I'm having a full glass. Trust me, I can do alcohol."
Charles had to grin at Nathan's stubbornness.
"Are you, ah, standing directly in front of me?" Charles asked innocently, as Nathan handed him his glass. He cupped it in his palm and gently started swirling the brandy by moving the glass in a circular motion.
"Yeah, why?"
"Oh, no reason," Charles said, as he casually stood up and strode several feet away. He sniffed the warm, sweet vapors. This was very, very good brandy indeed. "Cheers," Charles said, smiling slightly.
"Drink up!" exclaimed Nathan before taking a huge gulp from his presumably full glass. Charles heard a slight squeal followed by the sound of liquid spraying mixed with gagging.
"Holy shit! What is that stuff? Oh my god, it fucking burns!"
Charles couldn't help but laugh. From his safe vantage point he had avoided getting hosed with brandy as the singer rapidly expelled his entire mouthful.
"So much for keeping the bed clean," the CFO muttered.
"You asshole! You knew this was gonna happen!"
"I had a hunch, and I tried to warn you…"
"You actually drink this stuff? This shit is brutal!"
"Isn't "brutal" a good thing?" Charles asked coyly, taking a second small sip. "Not all alcohol is meant to get you drunk fast. Some of it is meant to be savored. Appreciated." He held the third sip in his mouth for an extra long time, tasting it's sweet layers, feeling it's smooth heat, before swallowing it and continuing. "Early American journalist Ambrose Bierce rightfully referred to brandy as 'A cordial composed on one part thunder-and-lightening, one part remorse, two parts bloody murder, one part death-hell-and-the-grave and four parts clarified Satan'. So I would say perhaps the word "brutal" does indeed apply."
"Oh my god," Nathan muttered. Charles had moved around to another side of the bed and sat again when he found a dry place.
"Ah, sorry about your bed there… But I really did try to warn you…"
He heard a muffled reply, and a moment later, "You're right, this stuff is much better when "savored", or whatever. I just did what you did earlier, swished it around, you know. It was pretty decent. But what kind of a buzz do you get from it?"
"I think you'll find the buzz is quite nice. And not incapacitating either, if you don't overdo it."
"The boys are gonna dig this shit at the inauguration of my booze chamber tonight! Thanks for introducing me to it."
"Tonight? Oh, I should get going then…"
"No! You should stay and party with us! C'mon, pal around for once! Besides, they're gonna show up like any minute now…"
"Ah, really… I should…" he started feeling around for his cane and realized it was a victim of the brandy drenching, as were his glasses.
"Drink!" ordered Nathan. "Oh and stand up for a sec." Charles complied.
He then felt a rush of air from the bed as Nathan swooped the giant top blanket off, and presumably tossed it somewhere.
"There, whatever. The Gears will wash that one later. Oh, and just so you know, I've got your stuff. And the blanket is in the corner there… to the uh, right if you're facing the door… which you are… not yet… look at where my voice is… okay now you're facing the door. The blanket is in the corner on the right. So don't trip on it. How's that for making sure you don't run into anything?" Charles could hear the grin in Nathan's voice. He was surprised and moved by the singer's sensitivity to the fact that he needed to keep tabs on changes in the environment around him, which might trip him up.
"Great, ah, thank you very much. Do you have any other, ah, furniture I should be aware of?"
"I kind of have like a… kind of an office, I guess you'd call it, maybe… and that's where there's like a desk and chair, and books… For lyric writing and stuff… that's off of the main room, so yeah, you won't be running into that stuff. Other than that, you mean in here? There's like the bed… a counter along the wall where the door is… the door to the booze chamber which is along the next wall… couple of side tables by the head of the bed, you might want to watch out for… I can move those if you want…"
"No, no, I'm fine. Just good to know. Ah, hey, I can still leave if you want, I don't want to be a…buzz-kill or whatever the term is…."
"Oh my god. You are killing my buzz right now by wanting to bail so badly! Chill with us! Sit down, there's a dry blanket now, and I'm putting your stuff on the counter right next to the door, okay."
"Ah…" He wasn't sure that he wanted to be parted from the cane, which was his only means of independent navigation. But before he could protest there was a banging at the door.
"DOOOOD!" Charles heard as the door was opened and Pickles burst in. "It's booooooze time! Hey, Ahfdensen's here! Sweet. How was the… oh hey, check you out…." He heard and felt Pickles approach and could sense he was being looked at. He stood up, wanting to appear confident and in control.
"Yes, the ah, the whole sonar system," Charles reached up and ran a finger along one of the devices self-consciously. "Might take a little getting used to…"
"Nah, it's cool. Shit when Knubbler got his robotic eyes, that took some getting used to! This is… pretty subtle. How does it work?"
"Well I haven't started using it yet, that needs to be done under supervision. It's going to be a bit of a process of trial and error at first."
"Yeah, I bet. But you're good at shit, so you'll be fiiiiine. Ooh, what'cha drinkin… is that brandy? Nate'n! Brandy on the rocks!" The drummer leaned over and Charles. "That's how they drink it in China. Learned this when I was Florida's Ambassador to China… yeah, but that didn't work out so good…"
Saving Charles from having to reply was another knock on the door, followed by several pairs of feet shuffling in.
"I ams such ones readys-to-gets drunks guy!" exclaimed Toki, followed by Skwisgaar's "Jah! Hey Nathans, hey Pickle. Oh hey Charles! I see yous have already met with da booze chambers! I ams wanting da Jager, ons da rocks!"
"Me toos!" echoed Toki.
"Hey," Charles heard Nathan shout, "We need a bar tender that is not me!"
"I can take care of that, actually," Charles replied, and activated the communication device on his watch. "I need a Klokateer that is trained in the, ah, art of mixing drinks, to Nathan's room, asap."
"Right away, sire," came the reply.
"Wowee!" exclaimed Toki. "If I gets blinds do I gets da talking watch too?"
"What? Ah, no, I mean… first of all, you are not going to go blind, Toki. Don't even say that. And the watch… No, it's more of a business thing. I've actually had it since before… I've had it for a long time."
"That's one watch that might be worth not destroying," Pickles mused. Charles recalled how the boys enjoyed smashing lamps and watches.
Just then there was another knock on the door and the final member of the band entered, followed closely by a Gear.
"Alright, I'm here, it'sch time to get thisch party schtarted!"
"My Lord," the Gear called out, clearly to Charles. "I am Number 403 and I am an expert in alcoholic beverage preparation & presentation."
"Very good. I have a feeling presentation won't be necessary though. Nathan will tell you where to go," he indicated to where he hoped Nathan still was.
"Charlesh! You're back! Yikesch, your robot partsch are schowing!"
"Good to see you too, William," he said with less patience than he would have liked.
"Wow, I gotta get a closcher look…"Charles could hear Murderface approaching, his voice rising with interest.
"Ah, alright," came the manager's tentative reply, "Just don't touch anything please…"
"Scho you're like a Pschyborg now?"
"No. I am not a cyborg, or a robot for that matter. Now might be a good time to, ah, dispel any further robot notions," seeing as I have a drink in my hand, thought Charles. He took another sip and stepped carefully back towards the bed, feeling the edge with his leg. Then he sat down and felt Murderface sit next to him.
"Scho…" Murderface leaned over and whispered. "What'sch it like… being a robot?"
Charles let out a huge sigh. "It's awesome. Okay. Being a robot is…great… really great. You should try it actually. Next question."
"NO MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT ROBOTS, ASSHOLE!" Nathan yelled over to Murderface. Charles had to smile. He felt Murderface lean into him again.
"Are these dicksch giving you a hard time, becausche if they are, you juscht let me know and I will perschonally take care of it!"
"No. They are not. You know, you don't have a drink yet do you? That's what this event is all about right. So you should go get one. Now. Go get a drink. Go. Now."
"Holy schit, you're right, what kind of party isch thisch if I'm not drinking! I will schee you later!"
Charles felt the bass-player leave and he breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up and turned towards where the majority of the noise in the room was coming from… he guessed it was the "booze chamber".
"Charles!" Nathan called out. "You need another drink!" It wasn't a question. "What'll it be… you can't drink the same stuff twice tonight so pick something different!"
A rhyme from collage flashed through Charles's head. Beer than Liquor, never sicker. Liquor than Beer, You're in the clear.
"Ah, what kinds of beer do you have in there?"
"Get over here and see! Hold on…" Charles heard Nathan approaching.
"Seriously, you have to check out the booze chamber!" He grabbed Charles by the forearm and carefully but quickly lead him across the room. Charles stumbled on an empty bottle at one point and had to grab hold of Nathan to right himself.
"Who is dropping shit in the middle of the floor?" Nathan bellowed. "If you're gonna drop shit, drop it in a corner or something. People are walking here!"
"Aww, my bad, dood," Pickles called back. "Sahrry Charles!"
"It's, ah, it's okay," Charles replied still shaken from the near-fall.
"They'll learn," Nathan said quietly to him, as he reduced their pace. They'll learn what, Charles wondered. Not to drop empties on the floor when Charles was attending their drinking parties? Since when was he on the guest list anyway? He had just happened to be here today…
Soon he felt Nathan stop him and realized that they were at the doorway of the so-called booze chamber. Nathan took Charles gently by the shoulders and slowly guided him forward. "Small step down," Nathan whispered. "Right now."
Bracing himself with one hand against the doorframe, he felt for the drop with his foot. Then, knowing what to expect, he carefully stepped down and into the chamber. It was noticeably cooler once he entered the room, despite the door being open. The smell was that of alcohol alright, but that was probably due to the various open drinks everyone seemed to be enjoying.
"Okay, guys, we gotta describe this to Charles, because it is like, so awesome."
"Oh dood! It's almost as big the one I have! So Charles, it's like…. How big would you say it is guys?"
"It ams like as big as, uh, the Dethbus. And there ams millions of bottles of da alcohol all over. It ams a beautiful thing," Skwisgaar supplied.
"May I…?" Charles asked Nathan, indicating that he'd like to "look" around.
"Yeah, have at it. I'll give you the verbal tour"
Charles rested his hand on one of the smooth wooden shelving units that seemed to take up the entire height of the wall, as far as he could tell. There were various rows and each bottle seemed to be nestled in its own place. Running a hand along the smooth shelf edge Charles stepped forward cautiously and then started slowly walking. Nathan would call out the "section" he was in. They had started off with the wines, whose section also contained an assortment of wine glasses. Next there were some liqueurs, which Nathan had to defend as being only the most metal of all liqueurs, and then Charles moved to where Nathan said he had found the brandy. Reaching out, he touched one of the glass bottles, and then the one next to it. He wondered if he was familiar with these particular types. For all he knew it could be one of his favorites, whose bottle characteristics he had only ever learned visually. But now he was limited to this more intimate experience. This though, at least as far as brandy went, may not be so bad. Hadn't he just been preaching about the appropriate way to appreciate such a fine drink? He realized, with somewhat of a start, that maybe the lesson extended to more important things in life as well.
This thought was interrupted by Nathan. "Okay, no more brandy, remember. Different drinks, all night. We have a lot to dig into here!"
"Right," agreed Charles, continued his way down the chamber. He passed the Scotch, Whisky and Bourbon sections. He came to the end of the wall and then continued back up the opposite side. Passing a large section of Vodkas, and Rums he then found himself back at the top of the room, surrounded by various bottled beers, appropriately chilled by the specialized shelves. Noticeably absent, at least according to Nathan's description, was any type of Tequila.
"I know, Charles, you pick one. Feel it out. Then you'll know how to identify it… You know. Isn't this what that therapist teaches?"
"How to identify beer by feel? Not exactly…"
"Well it should be! Grab one, you know, whichever one is you know, calling to you,"
Charles shot Nathan a sightless glance. He had never heard the singer get so ethereal before.
"Okay, here goes…" He felt several of the cold bottles.
"Use the force!" yelled Pickles. This made Charles laugh, and he settled on the bottle he happened to be touching. Nathan took it and opened it, then handed it back to Charles.
"Okay, so Star Wars is cool but not… other sci-fi series?"
"What? No, everything is cool when you're at a boooooze-chamber inauguration!" Pickles was clearly beyond his first drink, and had probably shown up with drunk to begin with. Which might have lead to what he obviously thought was an amazing idea. "Omigahd! Charles, Dood, use the force to pick out my next drink! Seriously. It'll be awesome. Whatever you pick, I will drink it."
"So much responsibility… I'm not sure I can handle it," Charles joked. But Pickles insisted.
"Use the forrrrrrce! Use it! And keep drinking too!"
"Yes, sir," Charles replied, taking several deep swigs of the beer. It was smooth and stout. Once again, he made his way along the shelved wall. Now he had somewhat of an idea of where things were.
He picked a random wine for Pickles, which turned out to be an expensive Chardonnay. Then he got a request from Skwisgaar, so he picked out something from the Vodkas, to follow the Swede's previous drink of Jager Meister. And on his way back, he grabbed another bottle, randomly, for whoever was next. He now had both hands full, holding the bottles by the necks, but, perhaps because of the over-confidence that resulted from drinking, he boldly strode back up the aisle to where the band members were. He was grateful when Nathan reached out to let him know that he had reached them.
"Oh I'll take that schecond one!" exclaimed Murderface, grabbing one of the bottles. "Ooh, Schouthern Comfort… Hell Yeah!"
"Sire," came the voice of their Gear bartender. Charles hadn't realized that there was a bar setup in the corner across from where they were congregated. Holding the two bottles, as well as his beer, he strode towards the Gear's voice, allowing the bar to stop him. He carefully placed all the bottles on the bar-top and then grabbed his beer and chugged the rest of it down.
This prompted hoots and hollers from the boys. "I will have one of whatever you're pouring next," Charles said to the bartender. "Don't even tell me what it is." He grinned, and proceeded to knock back the glass that was handed to him, followed, to the delight of the band, by several more. This continued for a while until they gradually filtered out of the booze-chamber, and let the Gear go, each having settled on a bottle of their own to nurse into the night. Charles was back to the original brandy, as the rule of not drinking the same thing twice had long been forgotten. Carrying his open bottle of brandy, he followed Nathan clumsily, grasping the large man's shirt. As they approached the corner where the blanket had been tossed, neither man was thinking about its tripping potential. So it came as a shock to both of them when Charles got a foot snagged in the edge of the giant blanket, and toppled over into the pile. Trying to hold the bottle upright with one hand, while not actually knowing what upright was, he gripped Nathan's tee-shirt tightly with the other. There was a loud ripping sound and Charles found himself in the blanket pile with a partly empty bottle of brandy in one hand and a piece of Nathan's shirt in the other. It was too much. Grinning, he held up the piece of cloth without getting up from the blanket pile.
"Shit. I think this is yours." He couldn't help cracking up, and heard a roar of laughter coming from Nathan's direction too.
"Oh my gawd, you guys, keep yer clothes ahn!" Pickles called from across the room, with obvious delight.
"What ams we missing?" enquired Skwisgaar, as he emerged from the booze chamber, with Toki in tow.
"Oh, just Ahfdensen on the floor with half of Nathan's shirt in his hand!"
"What'sch going on here!? Ish thisch a schituaschion where interventshion isch required?" Murderface assumed his fire-drill attitude.
"No! It's fine, totally fine. Everything is under, ah, under control. Yes." Charles laughed, taking another long sip from the open bottle before placing it on the floor. "But thank you. I, ah, think I'll just stay here for a while. It's comfortable, and it smells like brandy. Very good brandy." He smiled and closed his eyes.
