trans_9 | [OPEN] HELL AIN'T A BAD PLACE TO BE

Current Music: AC/DC. Just. all of it.

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[OPEN] HELL AIN'T A BAD PLACE TO BE

The entire hangar was nearly shaking from the power of the subwoofer. Loud rock music, possibly centuries or more outdated for most here, blasted from a single source in one side of the hangar. Obnoxious and loud, anyone who'd met him already could probably tell who was causing this ruckus- if their ears weren't already ringing from being situated right by his Gundam.

"Don't mind her playing a demon
Long as it's with me!
If this is hell then you could say
It's heavenly!"

The braided self-appointed deathgod screamed along with the scratchy tones of Bon Scott (may he rest in peace), thumping and drumming on his Gundam's console as he worked on weapons calibrations, among other things he'd had on his to do list- such as upgrades that he'd learned in the Sensorium were sorely needed.

Any of the mobile suits, or even other machines a little ways from the grouping of mobile suits, were probably rattling from the decibel level. Duo himself remained completely oblivious to the possible annoyance he was causing, sliding out of his pilot seat to air guitar on the cockpit's open platform as he checked on a connected laptop sitting out by the edge- he was even wearing shades. Inside a ship. In a cockpit.

He was just that cool.

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Sheryl still hadn't gone back to the city. She'd been sick too long to chance catching anything again, especially when the V-Type infection had just stopped pumping poison through her body. With that little townhouse out of commission, the Quarter had become her temporary home. It was hardly the best place she'd slept, but... well, it was hardly the worst, was it?

Even when the couch in the pilot's lounge she'd claimed as a bed was vibrating from some punk's bass line.

It wasn't that she had anything against rock. Somewhere on Galaxy, there was a tall shelf with the complete Fire Bomber catalog standing as a testament to the fact that she was actually quite a fan, and she remembered her first time belting out Nekki Basara's solos as one of the best parts of her earliest years with Grace. The problem, she thought, dashing barefoot through the Quarter in the loose exercise clothes she'd fallen asleep in, was that she'd been sleeping, and could this jerk remember that he and his speaker pods didn't have the whole place to themselves?

But as she dashed out onto the flight deck, she realized that she realized that the music was dimly familiar. It wasn't a fleet classic, and if she'd ever known the words she'd forgotten them years ago, but she recognized it vaguely nevertheless. She froze for a moment, just listening, then placed her feet firmly apart and put her hands on her hips. Time for a performance. Eyes sparkling, she launched into a wordless harmony with this guy's selection, projecting with all the volume she could muster. If this guy wouldn't let her sleep, she sure as hell wouldn't let him off without an earful!

Duo is for the most part absorbed in his own little world up there, 30 or 40 feet above and surrounded by the heavy metal shell of his Gundam-- but Sheryl doesn't go completely unnoticed. Duo picks up on the sound of a female harmony joining his usual raspy fare, and ducks his head out his cockpit to the floor to see what exactly that voice joining in was.

After watching her sing for the duration of the song, he pauses his music- probably the first break the poor hangar has had for the past 4 or 5 hours- and waves down towards her.

"Aaa? Hey, if it isn't Miss Popstar! Summoned by the siren's call, are you?"

"'Summoned' is putting it lightly," she called up, wagging a reproachful finger. "But..." She tapped her lips thoughtfully. "It improves morale to give some personal fan-service now and then, right?"

"Fan-service?" Duo mumbled to himself and cocked a questioning brow, though she probably couldn't quite see or hear it from way down there.

"Lemme guess- not quite your style is it? Hey, I got other stuff! Lemme know if this is more up your alley!" He called down before retreating back towards the music player and restarting another song.

The era didn't seem to change very much, but the style was entirely different- an upbeat poprock style, the type of thing that makes you want to dance just listening to it.

"'ve been workin' -- so hard!
I'm punchin' -- my card!
Eight hours! For what?
I'll tell you what I got!
I've got this feelin' -- that time's been holdin' me down!"

Duo tapped his heels along to the beat as he sang, glancing down to Sheryl below as he sat on the edge of Deathscythe's popped hatch.

What was with this guy? He'd gone from rock to some sort of old person music. What was wrong with playing Sharon Apple once in a while? She rolled her eyes and leaned against one of the flight deck's railings, chin in her hands and radiating lazy amusement as she kept the beat with her bare feet against the deck's cool surface. "Try again," she smiled languidly as the last chord reverberated through the metal of the hangar bay. "Think fresh, got it?"

"Fresh, huh?"

Duo looked thoughtful. "Yanno, that's not my usual fare, I guess. I'll see what I've got!" Flipping through the music files, he was hard pressed to find anything he really liked from his world that was current. Generally, he really did go for the classics.

"What's your style, anyway? Rap, pop, rock...?"

"Can't you guess?" she asked. She struck a pose -- putting one hand on a hip, throwing her hair back with another, and flashing a big, confident smile. "I'm the pop queen of the Universal Board."

"Pop it is~"

Duo rummaged around, eventually finding something electronic with a good beat, though it was admittedly more club-dance- and low on the lyrics.

"Heh, think you might have to ad lib for this one! Think you're up to it?" He called down, cocking a challenging smirk.

"'Up for it'?" She whipped her arm upward, pointing accusatory at the fighter's cockpit. Did this punk think he could scare her? She was the best of the best! "Who the hell do you think I am, boy?"

"I dunno, Queen o' pop. Why don'tcha show me?"

He crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of his cockpit. I'm waitin'!

She stayed quiet for a minute, picking up the beat. To be honest, this wasn't exactly her thing. She could start singing anything that came into her head, but that sloppy performance wasn't the sort of show she wanted to put on.

Inspiration hit her in a flash. It would involve a fair bit of cheating off a decades-old techno chart topper, but the old words could suit this sort of beat well enough, and this guy would never know she'd cribbed them off a long-gone idol unless the ship brought on a certain city-terrorizing AI to keep that GLaDOS system company.

"You know how to get eternal life:
In the center of the lightning-speed waltz.
Feel your soul cut by a rusty knife
As you head for the self-destructive edge."

She launched into a dance routine that came as easily as breathing, moving lightly to the thrum of the music, one hand clasped around a non-existent microphone. Standing barefoot on a flight deck, she didn't have the resources to put on the full Sharon Apple spectacle, but she could still put on a show for the doubter in the cockpit.

"Our souls are just floating in the core,
Where we can spiritually go through the door.
We'll know how to get eternal life
While we catch the pulse from unknown satellites.

If we get the transient facts,
Then we feel the info high.
If we get the transient facts,
Then we are really free
To fly high
In space.

We know how to get an internal high
In the center of the lightning-speed waltz.
See our souls struggling to survive,
As we head down for the self-destructive edge.

So long to intrusive noise.
No more childish play and no more toys.
We know how to get eternal life
While we feel and sense Mother Nature's strong might.

If we get the transient facts,
Then we feel the info high.
If we get the transient facts,
Then we are really free
To fly high
In space."

"Oho..."

So she really was all that, wasn't she?

Duo listened cheerfully, sitting on the edge of his hatch again, tapping along to the beat. He had his doubts this was all original, but it didn't matter; that wasn't really what he'd been aiming for, anyway.

When she finishes, he gives a bright smile. "Those're some pipes on ya!"

"The absolute best," she winked, and began clambering off the Quarter and into the scaffolding that would get him closer to his cockpit. "Tell me," she called as she scrambled across slender walkways that would have been at place above any of her biggest stages, "do you always mix music and fighters?"

Because if you can patch together speaker pods...

Kicking and swinging his feet on his platform, he watched her walk over. "Always? Nah, not in real battle. It's my workin', chillin' music! when I'm scrappin' or buildin' or messin' with my suit's calibrations. I'm usually uh... a little busy to fight to music..." It was a little distracting, sometimes, when he was trying to communicate during a battle.

"Why? Do you fight with that lovely voice o' yours~?"

"I have," she said with a small smile, placing a hand on the metal of the cockpit. And I will again, if fold waves have any effect on the Ohm. "At home, we aaaaaaaall know the importance of culture."

"Culture, huh? Now you're talkin'." He glances up to her, resting his chin in his hand. "That's somethin' I sure didn't get as much of as I'd've liked. I mean, granted we were kinda busy."

"So what's 'culture' to you, huh?"

"Music," she said, tugging at a bare earlobe. "Communication. Love. The whole galaxy knows that humanity was saved by a song."

"Was it....?" Duo tilted his head back slightly, glancing at the ceiling of the hangar- his braid pooled behind him.

A small, unreadable smile formed on his lips. "What a nice world you must come from."

Yzak was on his to the hangar for his regular rounds. Even though there was currently no imminent danger, call it a habit, but he was used to doing so on his own battleship, the Voltaire. And he was quite used to doing his work in a peaceful silence.

So boy was he surprised when he got there.

One (of the many, many, he'd brag) of the things Yzak was great at was screaming, Duo would soon learn.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"

UNCE UNCE UNCE

What's that, Yzak? Duo can't hear you over the super-subwoofed sound of the catchy dance beats he's got on now. All the hangar is missing is the pitch-blackness and the raver lights.

Eventually, Duo wonders if the screeching he's hearing is part of the music, or....

Peeking down, he sees Yzak, probably red in the face or at least sore in the throat from screaming for so long, and pauses his music.

"WHAT!?" He yells back, waiting for his own ears to stop ringing.

Coordinators were pretty durable, so one would be surprised at just how much Yzak could scream.

Instead of screaming back though, Yzak grimaced (hard) and sternly pointed at his own ears.

Which Duo of course totally misinterpreted.

"Your hair? It looks fine! What're you so worried about!?"

Yzak was coming up there, young man. Stomping over to the mobile suit's cable, he grabbed on (tightly; if the cable was a person, he'd look like he was strangling them), being pulled up to Duo's level-- and it was even worse up there. An up point to being a Coordinator in this situation? Being able to take loud noises better. A down point? Better hearing in general.

Once up to the braided-pilot's level, he reached for the speaker plug.

Edited 2010-10-09 02:49 (UTC)

NNNNOOOOOOOOOO--!

One could probably see the panicked brain processes as Yzak was riding up the cable-- Duo grabbed his music player and speakers, pulled them inside his cockpit, and put his hand on the lever to close the hatch, threatening to close it on Yzak unless he stopped where he was.

"Oi, what the hell d'ya think you're doing!?" He huffed grumpily.

Edited 2010-10-09 03:04 (UTC)

"LOWER THAT!" he screamed; hopefully being almost in Duo's face helped with the sound travel.

Lowering the music (relatively speaking; it was still pretty loud for any normal person), Duo pouted at Yzak. "What? You want me to put somethin' else on? I guess not everyone can be cool enough to like the classics of rock n roll~"

"I mean," he said through gritted teeth, "you can probably hear this from the other side of the ship!"

"You think so? Man, this place has great acoustics, don't it?"

Clearly, at this point, he was just screwing with Yzak.

Dean was on his way out to his baby, but the fact somebody else had clearly excellent taste in music made him change course. And the fact said person was singing along was just also awesome. He raised his voice to join in on the chorus as he strolled over.

Another voice caught Duo's attention, and he flipped from his back where he was fiddling with a wiring panel over onto his stomach on the platform before his cockpit to glance down below.

With a quick blink he grinned and waved below.

"Hey there, neighbor. Good taste you've got there."

Edited 2010-10-14 20:01 (UTC)

Dean laughed a little in turn, and threw a quick salute back.

"Yeah you too. Nice to know some people around here appreciate good music."

"I know, right? Unlike some people," he raised his voice, scowling in the direction of the white GOUF mobile suit that Yzak had returned to.

"Buncha uptight ...so-and-so's, anyway, haven't seen you around the hangar! You a pilot?" He'd done some rounds checking out the other ships, suits, and various other vehicles around- but he was sure he hadn't gotten to everything, much less met everyone.

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[OPEN] HELL AIN'T A BAD PLACE TO BE

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