Contemplating Fast Food

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

Ace hadn't really said much at the little welcome meeting. It was great and all, getting their excited out and repeating what they'd found out. More like been 'told'. He wasn't sure if any of it was true.

He still didn't consider himself part of this crew, not really. His crew was worlds away, and possibly gone. But he was still Whitebeard's man.

Not...whoever was captain on this ship.

And who could call a living thing a proper ship anyway? He could see stars out the window. Not dimmed by the sky, the actual stars. And the food couldn't even be called food. this place was really starting to freak him out, he'd like to go home now, and forget about this supposed hero gig. Though, preferably not back to the location he'd just left. Back to Whitebeard's fleet, maybe? He'd love that.

Maybe he should go find and bug his little Lord of Chaos, at least he'd be entertained...

His fingers trapped against his side as he studied the garden area, trying to decide if any of the fruit or animals were toxic.

And how much he cared, after a week of tasteless slop.

Comments

[badassfreakingoverlord]

"Hey! Hey you!"

That's the sort of voice that rolls over the terrain like a katamari, metaphorically rolling up everything. It's coming from a book. A large book, being carried by a green-haired woman without much presence. She didn't tire, so who knows how long Zetta had spent roaming the ship?

"You look like a..." What was an appropriate compliment for these pathetic lesser beings? "A... person with... the... things that are... um... relatively good examples of the things in question." Smooth, Zetta.

The woman set the book down and went off to start yanking up some plants, while Zetta regarded the man as imperiously as a tome could.

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

Ace blinked.

That was really the only reaction one could have to a zombie and a talking book. It simply defied explanation or comprehension.


"...Well, you successfully look like a book. Congratulations. I'm sure you're very proud. Is this always how you look, or did you dress up for the occasion of meeting me?" He arched an eyebrow at the young woman's actions, peering at her curiously. "Is the young lady making you new pages, or just destroying the landscaping?"

[badassfreakingoverlord]

"You've got a lot of attitude. I like that," pronounced Zetta. "Don't mind her, she's collecting more raw material for summoning. Soon, the army of Lord Zetta will be legion and invincible! Hyaaaaah ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

However big that book might be, it's microscopic compared to the ego it holds.

Zetta took a moment to stop cackling. "No beating around the bush, then. I'll make it simple: The damn Ohm are responsible for me -- ME! LORD ZETTA! the most powerful Overlord in the cosmos! -- being here in this flying... ship... thing, and that pisses me off! You don't look too happy about it either! So I think you'll agree that the Ohm need top have their asses kicked from here to Celestia and back again, full fares both way, with layovers in Pain-town and Don't Do That Any More You Assholesville!"

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

And you have an ego the size of the ship. "Army, huh. Too bad, I was hoping I'd managed to avoid the military. Summoning? She like plants or something?"

He winced a bit at the cackling, putting his finger in his ear and scowling.

Well, that had successfully reminded him of Blackbeard. Great. Just what he needed. Another egotistical bastard.

"What, are you trying to hire me? Didn't sign-up for this, Book." He ignored the title, smiling. "Besides, seems like this ship doesn't much care for rank and privilege, and I'm no hero to help you on your heroic quest to save the universes and time-space, and all that." He made a dismissive gesture. "By the way, do you know a guy named Blackbeard? I swear you two are related."

[badassfreakingoverlord]

"Hero? Hyaaaa ha ha ha ha! I'm no hero, kid! I'm an Overlord! The most badass freakin' overlord in the entire cosmos! The name is ZETTA! Let the heavens weep with terror and the Netherworlds bow to that name!"

The question managed to penetrate his massive ego shields, and the self-aggrandizement finally rolled to a slow halt as he considered it. "Blackbeard, huh? Can't say I know the name. He's not an Overlord, is he?"

[quark-assassin.livejournal.com]

There was a small, scruffy-looking man crouched off to the side, partially hidden in the underbrush yet clearly visible against the green of moss and ground cover, a muted blotch of steel gray and fuzzy brown amongst the growth. He was curled on his overcoat with a pad of paper—an odd sight on a ship full of technological advancements, even stranger when put with the present individual—watching, sketching, and taking notes on a small, furred creature flitting about the lower branches of a nearby tree. It had snatched an under-ripe treat from the garden and was, at current, munching on it with darting glances and quick sniffs of the air.

Dustin was relaxing. Of course, only someone like him would find extensive research in alien field taxonomy a source of relaxation, but this is beside the point. At any rate he was enjoying himself and wasn't causing ship security any problems, so it was a good day.

The creature polished off its snack, licking off the pit methodically before hopping down the side of the tree—Dustin made special note of this—and burying it at the base. Then it rushed back into the branches.

Some sort of disassembled device sat behind a red backpack by Dustin's feet. At this point he glanced at it, tucked his notes into the backpack's front pocket, and—damn, no more fruit. There was a drop between the platforms from his position to the garden, and the connector was a ways off. Perhaps the fellow staring at the plot would help him out here?

Dustin made a noise and snapped his fingers over the artificial cliff, pointing and motioning at one of the seeding plants. ”Throw me one of those, would you?”

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

Holy-

Ace jumped a literal foot off the ground, arm flaring up automatically as he turned towards the voice that had come out of nowhere, ready for a fight.

He almost wanted a fight, wanted something to happen, something to give and yeild and give him some sort of challenge.

For a long moment, he just stared at the person who had shouted an order at him, eyebrow arched, arm crackling with flame.

"Bad habit, lurking above and shouting at people bellow you." His voice was even, calm. "Tends to make them jumpy." He waited another moment, then let the fire die. It was nice to be able to rely on it again, though he really missed a weapon, of any sort.

He was going to need to fix that situation as soon as he ate something that wasn't gray and slopish.

[quark-assassin.livejournal.com]

For a moment Dustin thought he was being ignored and briefly pondered calling down a second time (or at least seeing what was taking so long). Then he caught the familiar sound and smell of spontaneous ignition and realized that, indeed, his call had been heeded, but not in the way he'd expected it to.

The genius sighed and, in a single, fluid movement, pulled a very large gun from his backpack and set the charge, cradling it under his arm. As the viscous red tank underneath the primary nozzle heated up, bubbling and churning with only the faintest hint of an engine's hum, Dustin glanced over the edge to see what the deal was with his friend in the garden. Other than actually removing the weapon he'd made no violent motions, and with any luck his crouched position would conceal said weapon until he needed it.

Well then. This man's arm was on fire. Nothing new there. But it appeared that the response was from shock rather than planned aggression, and thus Dustin allowed himself to relax (only slightly).

"Generally people are jumpy only when they have reason to be," the scruffy fellow replied, waiting for the other man's combustible arm to die out before he collapsed his own weapon—although doing so required that it be shifted out of the way, therefore, it was very much so visible in those disabling moments, "Past experience and the like. What about that fruit, eh? Get one that's not quite ripe, if you can help it."

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

Ace eyed the gun warily, fingers sparking as he watched it, body tense to avoid the bullet if it came. "I've had enough people decide to sneak up on me with the intent to make my day go really bad that I'm a little cautious of voices from the sky. I think I've got plenty of reason."

He glanced at the fruit, scowling briefly, tempted to pick up one of the fallen ones and aim for the jerk's face. "What in it for me?"

[quark-assassin.livejournal.com]

Oh believe me, Ace, if Dustin were to use that weapon then you would have much worse projectiles to deal with than bullets.

"Well, I can't call you out on that one," replied the genius, perched over the edge so that his gaunt, scraggly head, expressionless other than a constant undertone of contempt, was the only part of him there to regard the man in the garden. He was a wiry sort of fellow, thin to the point where it was almost concerning, but even from a distance his green eyes possessed an unnerving glint, betraying a sense that Dustin knew far more than he was letting on. "If you yelled at me from up here then I would've shot you on the spot."

Pleasantries had been duly addressed.

"What's in it for you, huh? Well for one, you'll keep me in a good mood, because the longer you sit there trying to bargain with me over goddamn fruit the more of my time you're wasting. Now are you going to throw me one or what?"

[shootingblancs]

"You look bored." That's the sound of a pilot leaning up against a wall, looking at him. "...or maybe hungry."

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

"You know, considering how my life was going, I'd say bored would be a step up. But mostly it just leaves me with way too much energy. And hungry. Hungry is probably a good observation. You looking too?" He glanced at the pilot briefly, then back at the furry critters frolicking like some idiots idea of a very tempting joke. "Always come sneaking up on hungry passengers of this great living ship?"

[shootingblancs]

Michael reached up to adjust his glasses. "Who's sneaking up? Is there something wrong with exploring this place?"

"And call me old fashioned, but eating something that's playing with its friends in front of me doesn't sound like a very nice thing to do."

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

Ace snorted faintly. "Nope. Not my ship, you can do what you like."

He looked back at the animals. "Yeah, well, I'm sure they'll get over it. Prey and predator and all that. I'm starving and the kitchens here suck."

[shootingblancs]

"Of course. Then again, our ship is here. Yours must not be."

"I'm not saying I'll stop you, but I've eaten worse before. You learn to deal with that sort of thing."

It only took me forever to reply, sorry. Also oh my gods epic sulk.

[hatesheroes.livejournal.com]

Mao was hungry.

He was angry.

He was starving.

And he was pissed.

There weren't enough obscenities in the world to accurately capture Mao's feelings about this ship, about this supposed calling, about the stupid, irrevocable, inescapable stream of utter garbage,
and the cavernous, ravenous hole of hunger in the middle of stomach was doing nothing to alleviate his mood.

Mao had not eaten at all since he'd crawled, blind and slimy, out of that nameless cocoon--he'd tried, of course, he'd taken the plunge and sampled that grey-red, viscous pile of slop.

Once.

Mao had nearly thrown the entire tray of it into the wall, but after that he simply hadn't eaten so much as a single sorry mouthful... and so he found himself here, in the garden, looking for something--anything--appropriate to eat.

Anything.

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

Well speak of the devil.

Of all the people he knew on the ship (which wasn't many) he probably genuinely liked Mao the most. Kid reminded him with Luffy with more brains.

"Well, if it isn't the Lord Mao. You look about as hungry as I feel." The grin wasn't faked or even offering a hint of dissembling. He actually was happy to see the kid. "How you liking our new 'home'?" The sarcasm lingering on the word was unmistakable. "Eaten anyone yet?"

I'd have said garbage instead of toilet, but Mao just throws his trash on the floor.

[hatesheroes.livejournal.com]

Mao stopped--then, recognising Ace, he scowled, his broad sword resting over his shoulder like some gigantic paddle.

"Hungry? What do you think?! Of course I'm hungry! This stupid meatboat doesn't have anything to eat!" He swung his sword down, gesturing angrily. Ace's genuine camaraderie was lost on Mao--if anything, it pissed him off; where did this stupid human get off pretending he knew him like some sort of... of... ally or something? How gross. "Don't even try to pretend that stupid slop is food--I've tried it, and that's not even worth putting in the toilet. I wouldn't stuff it down the shorts of my worst enemy!

...well, okay, maybe that! But I wouldn't eat it!"

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

"Hey, same boat, remember. The slop tastes worse than a three day old corpse. S'why I'm HERE, you know. There's fruit, in the trees. And even better, there's meat, just gotta catch the little bastards." He made a motion with his hand, sparking flames across the palm. "Waste a few minutes getting the fur off and searing them, and tada, proper food. It's nothing perfect, but it's better than the slop."

He grinned, listening to Mao whine without much problem. Kid really did remind him of a smarter Luffy.

[hatesheroes.livejournal.com]

Mao certainly wasn't in the mood for fruit. After all the time he'd spent not eating, time spent starving and rolling around his room moaning and roaming around the ship looking for something--and anything--to eat or do, the last thing he wanted to do was eat healthy food. Oh, he would've, if he'd had to, but this was different. He'd scouted this place out quite some time ago, and he'd come here expressly looking for blood. For meat. A meal befitting a demon.

Even on this stupid ship, he had options.

Mao scowled more deeply, then set his sword down, resting the tip of the heavy blade on the bright grass as he watched the local fauna move about the garden, blissfully unaware of the swift, painful deaths that awaited them. A sharp, wicked grin crept up his face, the light catching the edge of his glasses and refracting it back into Ace's eyes.

He was going to eat well soon.

And he wasn't going to share any of it.

[greennotgold]

Fletcher was starting to plant things.

He'd claimed a portion of the garden for himself, and in separate plots he was growing assorted grains and vegetables. He was starting out small; he didn't want to grow too much at once only to find out that he'd calculated some variable wrong. First, he was going to gather data.

So, he'd planted a few seeds of a few basic things. Right now, he was watering his plots; he didn't notice anyone nearby.

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

Ace had been expecting other people to be here. He'd been expecting other adults and had run into several.

But so far he'd only run in Mao. Not many children.

For a long time he just watched, tracking the little kid with his eyes as he moved between the plants. He kept his voice soft, crouching down a few feet away. "Hey there, whatcha doing?"

[greennotgold]

When Fletcher heard the voice, he jumped slightly, spilling water from the can. He turned his head to see a man standing there, and smiled just a little. "Um, I'm watering my vegetables. I'm growing some so people will have real food to eat, you see..."

[sleepy-fire.livejournal.com]

"That's a great idea." He smiled encouragingly, watching the kid. "You're a bit young to be alone here, you got family around?"

[godbydefinition.livejournal.com]

Ba'al was minding his own business, for the most part, but he was still aware of his own need to connect with these people.

The peace of this place, however, was not totally disregarded, either.

After a time, a tall, lanky man caught his eye, as he stared out at the plant life. Ba'al nodded to him, and greeted from a short distance, "Preoccupied with something?"

((ooc: derp.))