fandomhighdorms | Reserves: Danger Shop, Tuesday, After Classes

Entry tags:

kennedy,
maladicta

Reserves: Danger Shop, Tuesday, After Classes

Reservists had been ~~handwavily as per usual~~ notified to meet in the Danger Shop today-- where the table of snacks (including a large and, uh, fairly elaborate cake) had been set up on one end, near a gigantic slingshot... and the rest of the Shop was programmed to look like a grassy field with a dirt hill on it. On that hill was a deceptively haphazard-looking structure of... ice slabs and wood? Yeah. With green, helmeted pigs lurking inside, looking smug.

Kennedy's expression was the epitome of WTF. "Programming this thing isn't my specialty, I'm just gonna say that right off," she began, holding both hands up. She glanced at the line of scowling, impatient-looking birds hunkered down near the slingshot, then back at the group, and shrugged. "The whole idea was to figure out how we work in a situation where we're going after someone who's all hunkered down in a protected location. And it sorta came out as a thing where we're gonna be shooting these guys at that thing to take out all the pigs and..."

She trailed off, embarrassed about having to explain this at all. "It's a thing."

She was so blaming Maladicta and the duck-throwing from last week for this.

Hey now, it was hardly Maladicta's fault! "...at least they're very streamlined," she said kindly, covering her mouth with her hand to hide a smile. No, she hadn't noticed the triangle shaped ones yet.

"Yeeeeeeeeeah." Kennedy gave the birds a dubious look. "You guys really sure you can smash through that thing?"

Stupid question, apparently: she got a loud chorus of indignant squawking for her trouble. "Okay, okay! God!"

Oh sure, get them nice and angry, Kennedy. "So, get to work," Maladicta said, eying the precarious structures those pigs were hiding in. "And try not to hit anyone with them."

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There's coffee and chocolate and pastries as usual-- well out of the birds' flight path unless someone does something incredibly careless with the slingshot.

At least nobody's throwing ducks?

Squall walked in and glared at everyone and everything. This was hardly useful.

Was it strange that Alexander was thinking that he'd take angry birds over cowardly owls any day? He always had a fondness for most birds, though, ever since his spell to hear the languages of Lledor's animals alerted him to the twittering about the truth of his lineage.

He had the impression, though, as he nibble on a pastry, that if he understood the language of these winged beings, he'd find no problem being affronted enough to want to attack back...

Get to that slingshot and try to figure out which birds do what! Team up to strategize and argue about which bird to aim where, or go at it alone! GET THOSE THIEVING PIGS!

Because "what were you thinking" is totally a valid question here.

Kennedy had been thinking a nice, basic group exercise involving ranged weaponry, you know, something involving a little shooting stuff and a little strategy.

Not this.

...oh, don't think she wasn't going to try putting a few of those speedy triangular yellow birds into the slingshot at some point, though.

Wesley shot some stuff. No, really, he did. And then he ambled over to Kennedy, because he'd been waiting quite a few days for this and it was gloating time.

"Guess where I was last week," he said smugly.

"Does it involve someplace with way too much tweed and about ten forests' worth of books?" asked Kennedy, raising both eyebrows at him. "'cause if it does, and you've got that look on your face, I'm a little scared."

She trailed off, but felt the need to hastily add, "Also, please tell me that's not a TMI kind of face."

Oh, yeah, like he would share TMI fun facts with Kennedy of all people. That would just lead to mockery, probably.

"Killed a demon," he said, still with that annoyingly smug look on his face. "Alongside a seer and the Slayer's boyfriend. Who is, for the record, a vampire with a soul."

Yeah. Take THAT, Kennedy. God, he was going to be insufferable about this...

And did she really need more opportunities for mockery? Not really. Kennedy stared at him, completely deadpan, for about ten seconds-- and then snickered.

"You kinda had me going for a while there until you got to that soul part," she informed him, visibly smothering another laugh or, you know, five. "Funny, Wes. A whole demon, huh?"

Er, sorry, Wes-- being impressed wasn't going to come quite that easy.

But -- but he was badass! Really! He wore leather and everything! Sigh...

Trying not to be deterred, Wesley plowed on, "It was an evil demon." Wow, Wes, really? "Selling human and demon parts on the black market... very, very evil."

He was losing this, wasn't he?

"Because the evil kind, so hard to come by back home," Kennedy asked, trying not to sound too amused, although--

"Parts-selling, ew, so good job there."

...a vampire with a soul. In their world. Still not believing that one, nope.

Ah, well. Kennedy would have her own encounters with a vampire with a soul soon enough. One with a personality, even.

"Well, thank you," he said, puffing up a bit. "And as for the vampire I was working with -- have you ever heard of Angelus?"

He was bragging, yes.

"Yeah, but." Kennedy's skeptical look wasn't dissipating any; she'd come across his name in some of her history lessons, but Constance had left out anything that might've happened after, oh, an encounter with a certain Romany tribe. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"Souled," Wesley announced shortly. "And dating the Slayer. Or, er, he was." He tilted his head, considering. "I think they might have broken up."

He was so, so out of the loop.
"Regardless, he was the one I was working with."

"Right." Kennedy wasn't trying to make it overtly clear that she still wasn't buying that part, but it might have shown in her voice just a bit. (The demon part, okay. Working with a vampire, that wasn't so weird either given her co-leader here. But the soul thing was... too weird.) "Well, congratulations and all that. If I knew, I'd have a plaque for you and everything, all brass and engraved and 'My First Demon Kill.'"

...was not. This was clearly a practical demonstration of how to siege something that was built by pigs without the assistance of wolves with above average lung capacities.

Maladicta approved of it.

This was doomed to happen as soon as the duck-throwing came up last week, I hope you realize. I figure this would work a lot like how Conan O'Brien did it.

Here's some video for reference if you're not sure how this goes, and an explanation of which birds do what.

And the fancy Angry Birds ornithology poster still amuses me.

MMMM LINKS.

Is this where I nominate Angry Birds as clearly being one of my darling homeland's greatest gifts to the world?

At least it's one of the more successful ones.

Oh Nordic countries, bearers of so. much. crack. I swear to god if it's not the Swedes it's you darn Finns.

NOMINATE AWAY. Oh, the hours I've lost to this game, I say with nothing but exasperated fondness.

My mom is obsessed with that game.

I don't know whether to be worried or impressed that it's taken her this long, an iPhone she goes mental about, and this game to finally get into the whole 'gaming thing' after years of living in one house with several gaming-obsessed geeks.

And then I look at the game and I opt for 'terrified'.

This reminds me of how my mother gave me grief for years about my fannish con-going habits and went on and on about how she didn't understand how anyone could get that into something.

And then she discovered Bones, and now all I can do is look at her and go "OH DEAR GOD, IT WAS HEREDITARY AFTER ALL."

Ahahahahaha. Oh, man. My mom and that iPhone-- it's both annoying and endearing at the same time, because she will walk in every fifteen minutes or so going "LOOK WHAT IT CAN DO! LOOK AT THIS. ISN'T THIS GREAT? OMG I DIDN'T KNOW YOU COULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT!"

And I sit there trying very hard not to go "MOM IT'S JUST A FUCKING IPHONE," because this is progress, yo. Maybe one day I'll even manage to convince her that Firefox isn't trying to destroy her computer from the inside out...

...It's not?

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Reserves: Danger Shop, Tuesday, After Classes

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