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Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 15 [1727 hrs] An Rousing Experience of Klingon Culinary Confusion
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Somewhere along the way, the Ferengi had reappeared, and with him came the alcohol. Janus was only half listening to the man grovel, but it was enough to figure out that the greedy little grifter was angling for a good tip. There must have been a lot of money on that credit chip. Monty probably assumed – incorrectly – that there was more where it came from. But as long as he kept bringing drinks up to the cockpit, Janus had no desire to correct the assumption.
Drunk and driving a small tank, excellent combination.
When the targ came barreling into the street, Janus – to his credit, even intoxicated as he was – saw it in plenty of time. He made his living in split second brilliant piloting decisions, after all. It was a massive, disgusting looking creature, big by even targ standards, all red rimmed eyes and foaming jaws as it chased something across the intersection. He barely saw the other, smaller creature, but Janus could have sworn it was a rabbit. It hardly mattered though, the targ was the pressing issue. He’d been looking for an excuse to get this piece of shit skiff into the air for real, instead of cowering just above the street. He routed a burst of power into the thrusters and angled for launch… only for the front antigravs to fail completely a meter up. The front of the bus, which he was inconveniently inside, dropped like a stone just as the skiff lurched forward, and he clipped the targ instead of clearing over it, pitching them into a roll.
He might have salvaged the situation, but the force threw him right out of the chair, banging into the controls, the wall, the roof, and eventually coming to a tangled heap on the floor. He was really getting too old for this, he thought with a groan, taking stock of any new injuries. Everything hurt, except, oddly, his new fake leg. So much for taking it easy. He’d have to avoid any sickbay follow-ups until the bruises were dealt with.
“… be fine. I can fly.”
Everything was still spinning as he stood up, but everything was staying in place, so it had to be the alcohol.
“You’d better start flapping your arms and running real fast then.” It took him way too long to focus on the newcomer, his long overdue new wolf. “This thing hovers, but I can confirm that it does not fly.” The dull thud of an explosion echoed through the wall he was leaning on, and Janus stumbled away. “Might… not hover anymore either, now that I’m—uh, that was a disruptor?” Yeah, he confirmed as the noise of pandemonium got closer, shots were definitely being fired. Then he pushed past Shadow to go out and join the party.
On the way out, Janus paused by the bar, grabbing a bottle off the top for a quick swig, then thinking the better of it and hopping over the counter entirely. It wasn’t the most graceful of jumps, banging the shin of his new leg was more embarrassing than painful. “Come on,” he complained as he rummaged through the shelves, ignoring the bartenders complaining. “This is a Klingon establishment, there’s got to be a—ha!” He pulled the hidden disruptor out triumphantly. “I really do love this culture. Predictable in the best ways.” There were a few more in the same hole, which he dumped on the bar for anyone who needed it, before continuing on his merry way; bottle in one hand, disruptor in another.
He didn’t make it the door. A window blew out, disintegrated by the bolt that narrowly missed taking Janus’ head off. Janus fired a few warning shots back out the window, all the while diving for cover off to the side. His spot picked for him, he made his stand there, ducking in and out to harry the attackers outside, continuing to drink whenever he was out of sight.
“I gotta hand it to you guys, you really do know how to plan a pub crawl,” he remarked idly at one point, though no one was really listening.
That was right before the KDF showed up to ruin it.
“Cease fire? Where’s the honor in that?”