[Fury] The Mixer (All 4.1)

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    He hasn't heard of me? This a game, sure, I'll play it. "Heya Gates, QuePasa, good to meet'cha. I'm with the Arrows, ridin' first seat right now. You see a lady on a hoverbike with some great hair..'cept for Grunge 'cause she has to grow it back for a while..then you know she's one of my people."

    I scratch my chin a bit, stare off into nothin' before I ask. "So like, my favorite questions about justice are about how ordeals are. When one person says another one's done bad, you can't assume you know which one is right. But you can assume god in the sky knows, yeah? So you try an' force his hand, but what's the best way to do that?" I meet gazes again, mostly Gates. I'm doin' a thing, s'called 'Devil's Advocate', I think, not because the devil needs any help, but I want to see how these angels think.
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    I know Dog's mostly trying to get something out of Gates, from her look. Doesn't stop me from chiming in, after another healthy swig of whiskey. "That's pond scum, the whole thing. There's a God, he, she, it or ze don't have time to settle things like that. Only thing that's settled by a duel or an ordeal is who's faster or stronger or luckier." I take a look around, scoping out the crowd, then call out to Valentine. "Val, c'mon over here, we're talking 'big picture'." Forget who I heard say that first, but 'big picture' got to be a big joke back in the day. "Who was supposed to clean the latrines today? Pyle?" "Well, Ryan, I think you're missing the big picture here."
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    I strut over to SeaTac's table, hauling along a chair and a tasty cigarette. "How do you do?" I seemingly effortlessly collapse into the chair, but it's a practiced, calculated move to assert a carefree outlook. I hold up my bottle of good stuff, what's left of it. "Next round is my pour, chaps."
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    Of course. The Arrows. Should probably tread lightly, here. Or, perhaps not?

    "Val, we're just talkin' about justice, here. Dog here wants t' know how you force God's hand to let you know who's just and right. Way I see it, friend, you can't force God's hand. That's part o' the mystery o' His ways. The best you can do is try 'n discern the Lord's will and then be His instrument here on earth. And I say that iff'n you read His words, and iff'n you open yer heart to His voice, he tends to point squarely in the direction o' doin' things like reducin' the sufferin' o' folks, making the world a more equitable-type place, and generally elevatin' the good folks o'er the bad. So to me, the question ain't how do ya force God's hand. The question is how do you force yer own hand to do what's right, knowin' there's a lot o' folks who might slap you down fer it."

    Quite a group we got assembled here in each other's company. Might not be a bad time to be direct with folks.

    "Iff'n you'll all let me be clear, how could we force our hands to make this place better?"
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    I forget to take a drag off my cigarette while listening to Gates. Lord, he gives good monologue.

    Before I can bring up my own doubts about the higher planes, Gates brings it back down to the level.

    "Yellowhouse won't be better until they serve better swill," and I offer my bottle with a small version of smile number six. "But to make this place better? Start with the weather, my good man."
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    "Well, flood me, Valentine, I thought I was done for the night, but set me up." I lean in, propped on an elbow. Valentine, sometimes ze does these fancy pours, it's neat. And any hooch ze thinks is good stuff is really good. I'm into it.

    "Hah, nobody's dipped to the bottom of the pond scum, though! Ah, really it's just people settin' things up how they like and makin' up why that's 'right' after."

    When it's my turn with Valentine's special stash, I savor it, thinkin'. "If I could make the rain clear you wouldn't have to force me, by no means. Now, last week, Bon and the gang, we were up in the forest looking for something to cure red-sickness. But the forest was all soaked up! We thought we'd found easy clearwater but we had to ditch it all. Dead men jerked along by vines, and the earth tried to swallow up Sounder. If we could find that plant, though, bring it back to Bon alive, she could do good medicine with it. But I can't send the Arrows back to that place, maybe not for a whole season."
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    I narrow my eyes, pondering on Gates' question. "Start with the weather? That's pure hopin' for rainbows without rain ahead of 'em. Rev Gates, you're looking to force a hand to make things better? Well, I reckon what I see my hand tending toward is part of my upbringing. There's bad people that we're making nice-nice with. Harbormaster. All the soaking gangs and raiders, out for what benefits em tonight, and soak next week in the red. Sometimes, rotten flesh gotta be cut out."
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    I pour Dog two fingers just as clean as a whistle, nothing spectacular. Pardon the pun, but the motion is fluid and precise.

    "It didn't always rain the red, SeaTac," and I point with two fingers to make my point. "And some gangs are far from soaked." I nod apologetically to Dog.

    "Consider the fate of those of the Harbor if its master didn't choose to move them to SafeCo. Sometimes, rotten flesh can grow back, scarred but true. Who but an angel can tell when it's a time for the bandage or a time for the knife?" I make a blade appear and balance it on my finger, showing off.
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    Valentine's talk circles around itself and sometimes I just can't make out what ze's actually saying under the curlicues. That aside, I'm pretty sure rotten flesh don't grow back. "Guessing we're fresh out of that kinda angel, Valentine." I shrug. "Gates here asked about what we could do to make the place better. I said my piece, and Dog did. Interested in what you have to say on that, and what Gates can add."
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    I gaze at SeaTac. "Bread and circuses, sir." I hold the pause with a punctuated sip of my drink. "Keep 'em fed, keep 'em entertained. I do not jest! People who are hungry and bored cause ruckus."

    Thinking, I tap a pattern against my glass. "Comping away a few seats or the occasional drink is not a long-term solution. How can one set up a free soup line without cutting one's own throat? To say nothing of sourcing the supply of comestibles. I doubt the ocean, but maybe the forest?"
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    Slowly a finger of that hooch from Valentine disappears. I lick my lips, sucking whatever burning flavor I can keep. "Yeah, you can keep a lot of misbehavior down if you give people something to be excited about. A full belly and something to think about that's not themselves. Food in the Forest, though..I didn't see anything there I would eat, and I'm not a picky woman. Now, if you want clear water and good soil and you do everything in a splash-damn hurry.."
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    "I ain't against bread and circuses, Val. The Lord done blessed bread, and I enjoy some good entertainment like anyone else. But that phrase, bread and circuses... what it represents was the Romans- they're were wicked rulers when the Lord walked the earth- they knew that if they kept folks lookin' in one direction, they could keep 'em from knowin' all the awful stuff they were doin' in that o'er direction that folks weren't lookin' in. Ain't nothin' wrong with bread and circuses, as long as folks also take the time to look past 'em and see what's bein' done to folks in their name. And yeah, sometimes those wicked ones in power do make decisions that help folks, or at least don't hurt 'em, but if that's the standard, well, heck, anyone's a good leader at that!"
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    I nod at Gates' words. "Friends, I reckon we set out to have a party here, right?" I look over my three partners, check Laika, who's now all-in on whatever Grunge is doing with that chair, and then take a quick peek for Joey. "Seems August isn't here to pull an old soldier into a dance, but I wonder, Dog, if I could interest you? Dancing isn't one of the things a soldier never misses an opportunity to do, but it's not far down the list."
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    "Hah, sure!" I put my drink down and pull away from the group, leaving room for SeaTac to follow. "August'll remember to dance with you another time, just you wait."

    I call back to Gates and Valentine. "Good talk. Don't drink my stuff!"

    I settle in with SeaTac on the dance floor, holding a hand. "I like to follow, if you like to lead." Reaction is better.
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    I look down into Dog's face with a grin. "Happy to. I should warn you... I was told back in the day that my dancing style was... vigorous."

    I wait for the beat to come 'round, then swing off into something like a cross between a polka and an obstacle course. I like covering ground, and I'm sure Dog here can keep up.
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    I'm clapping in time with SeaTac's wide steps. I never expected Dog to be a follower like that.

    To Gates, I say, sort of in time, "There's awful stuff, in this world, to be sure, o friend Gates. An and an, there are folks, who'd not look the awfulness, if they had their druthers. A body must confront, some horrors from time to time, but must it be daily?"
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    I grin back. "Thanks for the warning, soldier."

    I follow SeaTac's lead, lifting my feet and moving with energy, but not with any waste. I like how much space we're taking up, and I laugh with it. Belka told me once I have good 'frame' which I guess means you can push me one way or the other and I move naturally without losing my stride.

    Some people act like there's big stakes in dancing but I just think it's fun.
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    Few things I get a chance to do that are just for sheer pleasure, and Dog's a good partner for my particular brand of rug-cutting. As long as she's game, I'll up the ante with a few lifts and turns. Not fancy ones, but the kind of moves you get from two people used to using their bodies hard, when they get the chance to cut loose.

    Also, there may be whooping.
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    Chance hops up on the bar and tries to show Grunge how to square dance... or something. Belka whoops in response to whoever whoops on the dance floor. Rainey grabs one of the fire eaters and pulls him onto the floor. Soon, the dance floor is overfull, and Arrows are on tabletops, with Grindhouse players dancing on chairs or up on the tables with them.

    Ace is still sitting at the table she claimed earlier tonight, and Cujo is with her, but Cujo's eyes are trained on the stairs that lead down into Yellowhouse.

    Conversation becomes rather difficult as the noise level rises. Laika turns up the music to mask conversations and aide with dancing. It seems like this party has risen from "people drinking and chatting" to "people are having loud fun and drunkneness is going to lead to a bit of wild abandon".

    Gates, QuePasa gives you a look like she's ready to go, but you're welcome to stay. Do you?

    SeaTac and Dog, how many dances, and what are you doing after?

    Valentine, do you take to the dance floor or rejoin 6-cup, or bum a ride home?
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    I nod to QuePasa. I think it's time to head home. Turning to Valentine I say "Of course, Val. I don't mean to you or what you do. Never would be my intention at all. You provide more than a service fer folks, and fer that, we all owe you. But I do think there's somethin' to be said fer takin' a cold hard look at reality, sometimes, and sizin' it up all sober like." A polite nod and smile, and I say "Now, iff'n you'll excuse me, QuePasa here ain't young like us, so I have to get her home before she gets too tired."

    As we walk out, I try and catch SeaTac's eye, and call out to him "I'm on my way out, friend, but come by and visit us sometime."

    Then, we take our leave.
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    I snap my fingers as if remembering. "And what kind of advice do you have to show a sober look to those who don't want it?"

    I crack a joint or two, then address Gates. "I thought I might have one more dance for the road, but how make you your way home?"
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    I turn to QuePasa as Valentine suggests this. "Mind waitin' one minute, friend. Can't turn zir down for a dance, can I?"
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    Gates,

    QuePasa's mouth is a thin line, but she nods and waits near the stairs down, watches with arms crossed.
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    At least two dances! I got tossed! Whoop! Can't let that happen just once.

    After the second dance we're in the middle of a whole lot of noise and I need a break. I pull SeaTac aside, far enough that we can hear ourselves think but close enough we can use the sound to cover up our talk. "SeaTac, you know I hear you about Harbormaster being the kind of people it dirties us to nice-nice with. But hear me out. He has all those people workin' for him. We pop his noggin, they get snapped up by the next opportunist. People he makes money for, they take mad at us. I don't wanna have'ta bail on Seatown just yet." Even though now I could maybe get Bon to come with us. There's more to it than that.

    "Back when he was in the harbor, when he pulled strings, people couldn't pull back as easy. But now he's not, he needs people more'n he did before. People we know better'n him. I want him brought low. I want every little bit of his life hunted out. Then Hope, August, Pine, everyone who's worked under him, they maybe get a better view on doing something else. A view without that Home rot in it. I want to put stuff back together, not just break it. We gotta make him splash up his operation."
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    I nod, pretending that I'm keeping up as well off the dance floor as Dog kept up on the floor. But I don't really fake it well. "I get it. Admiral's the source of most of my scratch and for whatever reason, he invited that snake in. Seems like a lot of moving parts, but I'll help how I can, if you point me in a straight line that makes sense. You know, I gotta wonder... did HM maybe know about the threat from the ship before it happened? He seemed awful anxious to change up his living situation, just before the Harbor got blown to pieces, if rumors are true."
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    I nod, feelin' like I can see parts movin' but not enough of 'em. Wish I could ask Nana about all this.

    "You got a good floodin' point there, SeaTac. That was some real timing. And yeah, I promise I'll keep you in on things, keep it pointed straight for you when it counts. Now, Admiral..I gotta imagine he has his own ideas about it. Saw an opportunity, is the usual thing."

    Now if HM knew about that Leviathan and didn't squawk about it, why? Maybe he didn't understand what it was, I heard some rumors, too, that it was a monster.
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    Gates and Valentine,

    What's it like dancing in the middle of all these excited, sweaty Arrows and Grindhousers? How is it that you two mingle when you dance together?

    Vignette,

    You make it back upstairs to see Ace and Cujo sitting on the picnic table, and the rest of the everyone are dancing around, on tables, on the dance floor, on the bar. Cujo hops up from her seat to head over to you, eyes intent on you until she reaches you, and there's a moment where Jax is not exactly "protective" as in keeping Cujo away, but he doesn't want you to fall down, and you're pretty high.

    What do you do?
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    Jax and I float toward Cujo. It is very loud up here. More than just the music outside my head, the swirls and surges of thought of so many people known to me make a music of their own.

    Cujo is so very pretty. And who knows? She might like me best. I have my own--wait...I have heard this before? Said this before? No matter. She is so very pretty. Those eyes...

    I float from Jax to Cujo, listing a little in the current created by Gates' and Valentine's thoughts. I throw my arms around Cujo's neck before I can float away, and my body comes to rest against hers, my lips at her neck. I rise upwards. I am getting really good at this floating stuff. I plant three kisses along her warm neck as I rise upward, until I find myself looking into her eyes.

    "Oh..." I say with a little gasp as I meet her eyes. "You really are so very pretty... Not mine to give or to have or..." I look up at her earnestly. "Shhh!!!" I risk holding on with just one hand to put a finger to my lips. "I am not on Home--it is fake. Do not tell Squishy. She will tell Harbormastiff," I laugh at my mispronunciation. "Woof!"

    Putting my arms around her neck again, I lean back, tilting my face up to the ceiling in an effort to float higher. It only makes me dizzy. I still have to look up to look into Cujo's eyes. "You are very tall sometimes." I lower my eyes to look straight ahead at the graceful curve of Cujo's neck and the hollow between her neck and collarbone. "So much more delicate than you seem at first glance..."

    My arms slide down her back slowly, savoring the feel of her. "Squishy warned me that Home would make me...um...enhance certain feelings. Shy is so clever. She even replicated that."

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    I ain't a good dancer, but I can hold my own. Not like all these rowdy kids out here, but I can make due. Val is, of course, better, ze's nice and keepin' me from embarassin' myself.

    "This is a sight, eh? Not sure a preacher is s'posed to be dancin' with someone in yer line o' work, Val. But I do like you, and I know you got a good heart, so I'm sure the Lord will forgive me."

    I smile, wryly, as I say this. Can't help it. Val is fun.
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    Vignette,

    Cujo
    Cujo stiffens when you kiss at her neck, not out of distaste, more like it's a surprise. The warm skin of her neck is mottled by a single bruise the shape of someone's thumb. Her left hand slips to your back, and she watches your mouth intently as you explain "Squish" and "Home" and "Harbormastiff". Through the haze of Shy's intoxicant, you distinctly feel gooseflesh rise along Cujo's back as your hands and she swallows, taken aback by your forwardness.

    "Vignette," Cujo says in a tone that's ice quickly melting. "Are you alright?" She licks her lips, like searching for words. "Can you.. dance?"

    What do you do?
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    "I am." I take a deep breath, drawing in the lingering smell of her leather jacket and the maybe-remembered, maybe-real smell of her skin. It mingles with the night air, the music, the swirl of thoughts that surround us. "I am wonderful. Shy made me some fake Home, so I could fool Squish."

    "It did not work," I say with a scowl. "But it makes me feel...funny...anyway," I add, brightening and lowering my hand to the small of her back.

    I tilt my head in surprise at her question about dancing. "Ordinarily, no. I am not so graceful. But I can try, if you will keep me from floating away."

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    Vignette,

    Jax has stepped back, away from you and Cujo, giving you space. He seems comfortable enough with you here that he's headed to the bar.

    Cujo
    "I woouldn't tell Drumma where to fly," Cujo says, talking about August's bird as if it were a person, "But I won't let you float away, Vignette." She pulls you closer, reaching with a sure hand to lift you up, setting you back down where your feet are perched on her rough biker's boots. Then, with a gentle circling, she takes you round and round in a dance to the tunes of some song about "Burning Down the House", which several Arrows sing along with. Not Cujo, she can only feel the music and the beat through the floorboard as you slowly twirl with her, looking at all the colors and faces of people drinking, dancing, together.
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    Gates could stand a few dance lessons, mind. I've traded up the fast steps for a simple thing akin to a waltz, or a box step. It's more about the music and the company. It's not unpleasant to be the lead here, but not what a body was expecting. I can dish it out, though.

    "Make merry while the sun shines, for life is short, o Gates. And what's wrong with my line of work? A body needs must eat and drink. Why not enjoy a meal or a beverage over just surviving?" I can't say as I'm offended, just curious.

    I like seeing him smile, and I share one back to him.
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    I laugh. "You ain't wrong, Val. Folks gotta eat n' drink. But a lot o' folks in my line o' work tend to shun those who serve spiritous beverages. And we both know some o' the stuff that goes on under yer roof. I mean, just look o'er my shoulder at the look QuePasa is givin' us. But like I said, I like you, and I don't expect anyone t' be perfect. Lord knows I ain't, and he said we all shouldn't throw stones unless we got nothin' to clean in our own soul."

    Val is leadin' the dance well. I'd be a lil more lost without her.

    "Just bein' honest, I'd say this whole area could stand to have more folks like you watchin' o'er things. Folks with good heads on their shoulders and good hearts beatin' in their chests. You care about seein' to folks' needs, and that's more than we can say for some."
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    All,

    The party continues for a few hours, with some Arrows and Grindhousers heading off, some together, most separate. The Arrows head back to the Hideout for the pile, except Cujo, who helps Vignette back to the small pile. Jax doesn't show back up, giving the Witch of Pike some space.

    Grunge is pulled away from the party for her first night sleeping with her sister Arrows, and of course you're expected to be there, Dog.

    SeaTac, you and Joey head back to Safeco with a melancholy Hope. She's quiet as you drive back in your new ride.

    Valentine, after dancing with Gates, you catch a ride back with Youdub, who is happy to ferry you to the Yacht Club, which is closed by the time you get home, everyone doing close-out duties, cleaning, getting the place ready for the next day.

    Gates, you eventually leave with QuePasa, who quietly walks beside you, her face calm, reflective. You know there is worry, about Rain and whatever he means to your fledgling church.

    --END SCENE--
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