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Another day, another botched training. Major was getting pretty tired of being the screw-up newbie. Not as tired as his team was, as they had reminded him during every step of their extra five mile run this evening, but still … And he knew he had no one to blame but himself. Nothing in his past had prepared him to become a zombie mercenary. He'd hoped his years as a football player would have helped, but so far they really hadn't. Tonight he'd been shot in the head, full-on, like the newbiest newb there had ever been. Even he was disgusted with himself. He didn't blame the rest of his team for being pissed.
He was pretty depressed by the time he'd finished showering, and just wanted to get out of there. But before he could get dressed, one of the other soldiers, a guy named Stoll, came around with a handful of brain tubes. Major had avoided these so far, in order to appease Liv, but he had to get off teen girl brain, and the tubes were part of Fillmore Graves life. Didn't make them look any more appealing for all that, though.
"Lunchtime! Get 'em while they're goopy." Stoll went around the room tossing a tube to everyone.
Major caught his, tearing off the end, and looked at it doubtfully. It really wasn't appetizing. Like … a mushed-up tongue. Ick. He studied it for a minute, trying to work up the nerve to try it, and caught Stoll watching him. "Just … new to the processed kind."
"Better get familiar with 'em," Stoll told him, heading off for his own locker.
Looking around him, Major could see everyone else downing their brain tube with every evidence of enjoyment. Or, at least, lack of nausea.
"Yum-yum."
He looked up to see another guy, Justin, who seemed moderately more friendly than most, grimacing at him, clearly sharing his opinion of the looks of the tubes. His was almost empty, though, so clearly he'd been able to choke it down. Major nodded and took the first bite. Yep, just as gross as it looked.
At home later, watching Ravi shoot zombies on their TV, he tried to explain what it had been like. "It's like if someone ate brains, and old yogurt, and then mama bird-ed them into a tube."
"You should put a note about the texture in the suggestion box."
Yeah, that would go over well. Newbie doesn't like his brain tubes. He was sure that would help him fit in just peachily. "I guess I shouldn't be complaining about the tubes. It's probably better to be on white noise than teen angst brain while I'm tracking Natalie." That was contributing to his growing depression, as well—he was having no luck finding out anything about where she might have been taken, and it was wearing on him. He had promised her, damn it, and he had wanted to keep that promise. He was just going to have to try harder, but there weren't many avenues left that he hadn't gone down. "I think I can find her … if I can just figure out who all of her old clients were and where they lived."
Ravi took that piece of last-ditch bottom-of-the-barrel thinking more seriously than Major had expected. "There's actually one person who may have that information." Major turned to look at him and Ravi made a face that said he was picturing that person's face on the zombie he was about to kill. "Blaine."
Before Major could follow up on that idea, Liv came into the room with a tray full of Chinese takeout, frowning at both of them. "Oh, no, no, no, we are not playing the murder everyone game, we're playing my dance game." She put the tray on the table.
Craning his neck to see around her, Ravi muttered to Major, "Did we lose a bet?"
"I bring the Chinese food, you play my game. That's the deal," Liv informed them. Or reminded them—Major was pretty sure he had a vague memory of this coming up before, followed by Ravi's blithe "She can't be serious" dismissal. Apparently they should have known better, because she looked pretty serious. She popped open the disc tray while Ravi was in the middle of taking out a whole herd of onscreen zombies, to Ravi's vocal unhappiness. Listening to them argue was at least familiar, Major thought, leaning forward and picking up a carton of Chinese food.
"Major! Weigh in on this. Did we not agree that she who buys the food picks the game?"
He gestured to his mouth, pretending that it was too full of food to reply.
Liv rolled her eyes. "Look here, Chakrabarti, just because you can't dance—"
"I can so dance! I have moves that Fred Astaire would have killed for."
"Then let's see 'em." Liv gestured at the floor in front of her with the controller.
"While we're eating? I mean, shooting people is much more conducive to being able to digest one's food. You can't be jumping around with a pair of chopsticks in your hands—you'll put someone's eye out!"
Major gestured at his roommate with his chopsticks. "He makes a good point."
"He's a total wimp who knows I'm going to wipe the floor with him, you mean." Liv put her hands on her hips.
"Isn't that why you picked the game, so you can win for a change?"
"Says the man who's too lazy to get up off the couch …" She narrowed her eyes. "Fine. I win a round of shoot-'em-in-the-face, we play my dance game, and you don't whine about it. Deal?"
Ravi looked at Major, clearly hoping for some help, and Major shrugged. "Fine," Ravi snapped. "Get it set up."
"You're goin' down, Chakrabarti."
Major leaned back with his carton, letting them duke it out for victory in the game. He was happy just to be here with them and let the rest of his life wait before he had to pick it up again.