Just a little bit of target practice (Tal-gasm!)

[Anonymous]

I hope you aren't busy.

Batrolomeu sighed, looking up from the paper he had been writing, despite the fact that the voice in his mind was from Nuriel and the dragon was no where near the room. Sense when do you care?

Touche. I don't really. But there is a job for you, if you want it. The Royal leaned back, listening to the dragon explain the mission, arms behind his head. It sounded like it might be fun, a good chance to blow off some steam. Even he could build up some stress, being a Royal meant a whole lot more work then play.

And when you were a Pilot long enough, sometimes play started to mean odd things. Bart wasn't a sadistic or cruel man, he considered himself a rather nice guy over all. But going through not only the candidate program, but a rather brutal war tended to warp one a little.

Sure. Count me in. And I am going to see if Roman wants to join me as well. Standing, Bartolomeu stretched his arms above his head, his back tense from being bent over a desk for so long, cracking his neck for good measure. Man, he was starting to feel old. That wasn't allowed until he was at least.....40. Yeah, that was a good number.

Considering the time, Roman was probably in his office. Unless Gabriel had manged to drag him out of it. That was fine, he could get some coffee on the way. Nothing to brighten the day like semi liquid tar in a cheap mug. He might even be nice and bring some for Roman. He was just that kind of guy.

A short while and two mugs of coffee later, Bart was pressing the button to Roman's office door, stepping inside and grinning at the Pilot, "Well hello there. Now, I know you are busy, but Nuriel told me about a mission that involved shooting people. And Roman, you were the first person I though of."

Bart made his way over to Roman's desk, resting his hip on the edge of Roman's desk, holding up the coffee mug, "And I brought you coffee." He grinned at his friend, "Black, just like your soul."

[Tally]

At the sound of the door, Roman looked up with an annoyed expression already planted on his face.

"Oh," he said.  "Sorry."  The office chair creaked as he sat back and rubbed at his temple.  It had been a typical morning.  Typically aggravating.  The dragons were on him to double his efforts in rooting out possible subversives among the candidates and that meant re-examining for the hyperbazillionth time every insignificant conversation and acquaintance and bloody blog post they'd ever made in their lives.  Riveting stuff.  He had yet to find secret code in a teenager's overreactive ravings about reality TV.

"Busy yes, but you're always welcome.  Especially if you bring coffee."  And as he took the mug his eyes didn't flick toward the styrofoam cup in the wastebasket.  If he drank this, that would be four cups of coffee before noon.

Oh hell.  Why not.  His blood was singing with so many uppers right now.  What was a few more ounces of caffeine?

He raised the mug.  "Cheers."  The bitterness made him grimace reflexively, but he liked it that way.  "Shooting people, ey?"

That appealed to him less than the excuse to get away from the folder sitting on his desk.  Inconspicuous among other papers and files, this one had been waiting for his attention since yesterday and he still hadn't been able to force himself to deal with it—for a lot of reasons.  The dragons had finally made a decision regarding Temple.  With no leads and no indication that he was alive anywhere, with weeks gone by and still nothing, they had concluded at last that he was dead.  Killed in the line of duty.

And for some reason Roman was stuck with the paperwork.

It made a kind of sense, they were brothers after all, but he didn't want to bother with it.  A vague sort of guilt nagged at him when he looked at that folder, which in turn made him want to punch his fist through the wall because he had fuck all to be guilty about.  Wasn't his fault the kid had crashed and burned.  Wasn't his fault they'd lived as strangers their whole lives.

"I'm in.  Let's get out of here."  Out from behind these walls and into some open air.  It would do him good.  And the shooting people bit, that was a plus.  Amazing what putting a bullet through someone's head could do for your mood.

He gestured for Bart to lead the way.  "Where are we going?"

[Anonymous]

Handing the mug over to his friend, Bart grinned, his drawl slow and lazy, "Well, ya know, I have found people like me a lot more when I bring bribes. Somehow, my amazing good looks ain't good enough. And not only did I bring ya coffee, I bring ya the option of takin' out all that rage ya have on someone in a violent and bloody way."

The Pilot looked over at Roman's desk, "Still stuck readin' all those blogs from the kids? Surprised yer eyes ain't bleeding yet." He then glanced up at Roman, having leaned a bit closer, "Though, I really hate ta be the one ta tell ya, but ya look like shit." He then smiled at Roman again and straightened up, "Gonna scare all the ladies away like that."

He waited for Roman to finish up and stand before heading to the door, "Welp, we are headin' out to one of those real lovely prisons, on some quaint little island. Havin' a bit of a riot and they asked for some help. So we get ta go have a lovely little holiday."

Glancing over at Roman as they walked, he grinned again, "Really, it's all a clever plan to smuggle you away for a few hours and get ya inta a swimsuit. Drink somethin' fruity with a little umbrella in it. Little romantic getaway." He was headed back to the Citadel. Nuriel wanted to go with, stretch his wings a bit, "Probably be pretty easy. Brings back memories, yeah?"

Weren't exactly pleasant memories, but there was something about the experience of going through a war with something that was hard to describe. Killing someone was never fun, but you distanced yourself from it and took the good parts that you could.

[Tally]

Roman rolled his eyes then gave Bart a sidelong glance.  "Thanks.  Y'know I can never hear enough how awful I look."  He shook his head but smiled in spite of it all, and hoped the smile and the words would be enough to distract Bart's attention as he smoothly slid a folder over the papers with Temple's name all over them.  He had no idea if Bart knew the dragons had made the decision to declare Temple KIA and didn't want to be the one to break the news that Bart's old student would soon be considered legally dead, and the search called off.    

It would be bad enough when he told Gabriel, which he felt he should for some reason.

He stood too quickly in an effort to draw Bart's attention away from the desk, but at least the smile was genuine.  Hanging with Bart always seemed to de-stress him.  Their friendship was simple, uncomplicated.  Roman had few enough relationships like that.

Truth was, he spent most of his time among candidates, his subordinates, and even with Pilots of a lower rank there was still that disconnect there.  It stopped you from getting too familiar with anyone below your rank.  There was an impassible chasm of protocol between Royal and Noble that he didn't have to worry about with Bart.  

"A prison."  Damned if that didn't send a wicked little jolt of pleasure through him.  "I'm liking this idea more and more."  Wouldn't be the first prison riot he'd helped put down.  Aedolis's draconian laws resulted in what some would call an excessive population of convicts, and on occasion the animals got out of their cages and raised hell.  The nation's considerable police force handled things in the state prisons, but the federal prisons?  Those fell to the military, and the federal pens held the worst of the worst.  Tear gas and a few security squads in body army wouldn't cut it, not in a situation that could escalate so quickly and spark a disastrous chain reaction if the rioters breached the prison.

"Which one are we hitting?  Anyone else being called in for it?"

[Anonymous]

“I’m just bein’ a good friend. If I told ya how pretty ya were all the time, ya might get vain. And that just wouldn’t be fair. It’s only cause I care.” Bart grinned at Roman, looking away from the desk. He had caught a glimpse of Temple’s name. And he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to ask, he didn’t want Roman to tell him. If he didn’t know, there was still a chance. That the kid was still alive, out there. That maybe he was just one rescue mission away. There was enough bad things that Bart had to do, had to live through. He wanted to keep his hope a little bit longer.

Bart smacked Roman on the shoulder, keeping his same pleasant expression. No need to ruin what could be a perfectly good day. Killing wasn’t exactly something he relished, but, well, shootin’ some very bad men was a little different. Probably showed how twisted he was, but Bart wasn’t going to worry about it.

“We are goin’ to the lovely resort of The Pit.” Bart made a face, “All these places gotta be out in the sticks, ya know? Can’t be somewhere with a nice scenery. Maybe a nice pool.” Sighing, Bart punched the elevator button, “And I donno of anyone else bein’ called in. Though Nuriel might just be bein’ a little bitch and not tellin’ me.”

Would I do that?

Yes.

I’m hurt.

Don’t make it not true.

Well, that is true. You’ll just have to find out. Bart could feel Nuriel’s amusement. Smug bastard. He always liked to play games, “Well, regardless, better then sittin’ around starin’ at paper work. I swear, if I have to look through one more report, I’m gonna go cross eyed. My butts about to fuse with my damn chair.” Bart ran a hand through his shaggy hair, stepping onto the elevator when the doors slid open, “If I ain’t careful, I’m gonna lose my good looks. Start lookin’ like you do.”

[Tally]

It was just like Bart to call him pretty in one sentence and ugly a few sentences later. At least the banter was distracting and saved him the trouble of having to explain why Temple would be declared dead soon, why Roman was the one putting the final seal on the order, why the whole affair was being kept so quiet.

The day Providence had fallen out of the sky, the very second his life had ended, he had not been where he was scheduled to be.  Scheherazade had shared Providence's final data logs with him and it didn't cast Temple in the best light.  At the time of Providence's death, they were supposed to be running high altitude sweeps and yet the dragon had descended to earth—at his Pilot's request.  Minutes later, the dragon had died.  He'd died not from a height that would have killed the Pilot as well, but from a low cliff, a survivable fall for a human.  It didn't look good.

"The Pit," Roman repeated, only half listening.  Funny. He'd spent most of his adult life pointedly not thinking about Temple. Now that the kid was gone, Roman couldn't seem to get him off his mind.

Whatever.  This wasn't like him at all.  What was he doing, brooding over some Pilot he never even really knew?  He shook it off.  "Well when we're done here we can play hooky and go find a resort somewhere to lounge around at.  With a pool.  Get your pasty ass a tan."

Roman's shoes were making a faint squelching sound with every step.  They were cold, too.  He could have worn a different pair but dammit they were his favorite.  "Son of a bitch."  He leaned against the back of the elevator and put pressure on one foot, feeling the chill of the waterlogged sole.  "These are still wet from when Gabriel pulled me into the tub yesterday.  I swear, I shoulda just thrown his ass out then and there and skipped the whole trip."

[Anonymous]

Bart knew enough about what had happened with Temple to know he didn't want to know more. He had faith in the kid. Sure, he was a little rough, but he wasn't a bad kid. There could all be a simple, normal explanation for it all. They just had to find him.

"Now now. See, it ain't playin' hooky. That's such a dirty word. Naw. See, what were are doin' is...uh...doin' some reconnaissance work. Gotta make sure none of them convicts made it out to the pool." He grinned at his friend, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and smacking them against his hand, "You just wanna oggle me, all glistening and tan. Bein' this pretty is a curse."

He pulled out a cigarette and offered the pack to the other Pilot. He was pretty sure he shouldn't encourage Roman's bad habits, but really, who was he to call the kettle black? Raising an eyebrow, he glanced down at Roman's sneakers, "You were in the tub? With Gabriel? Kinky Roman. Kinky."

A good friend would probably mention how obviously into each other Gabriel and Roman were. It wasn't exactly subtle. Bart kept meaning too, then Roman went and said things like that and amused the hell out of Bart.

[Tally]

"He is just such a fucking child."  Roman snatched the pack of cigarettes out of Bart's hand.  Technically they weren't supposed to smoke in the public corridors, but who was going to tell them that?  Besides Xico and that damn sock puppet.

"And it's all the time too.  All the time.  Not just some of the time, but all the goddamn time and it never fuckin ends with him."  He finally stopped gesturing with the cigarette pack and actually pulled one out, then shoved the pack back at Bart.

"I mean you'd think we could have one adult conversation—one, somewhere, somehow—but no, he's got to pick a fight over a goddamn spoon every time, or lick pie off my fingers or just...just deliberately try to piss me off."

He was done for the moment.  It felt good to complain.  Scowling—he was in a bad mood now, and it was all Gabriel's fault, and he wasn't even here!—he patted around at his pockets in search of a lighter just as the elevator reached their floor.

[Anonymous]

"Now, Roman. I just wanna make one thing real clear." Bart's eyebrows had lifted slightly at the mention of pie licking, "I consider ya a friend, one of the less annoyin' people here, but, well, I ain't never rollin' around in a tub with ya, clothed or otherwise. And if ya ever even think of lickin' anything off my fingers, I'll punch ya. Gently and with love, but I'll punch ya."

How could Roman not get that he and Gabe were flirting like high schoolers. Offering Roman his lighter, Bart stepped into the elevator. No smoking rules were for other people as far as he was concerned.

"Now, explain this ta me Roman. If the kid irritates ya so much, how come ya spend so much time with him?" He punched the button that would take the up to the dragons, glancing over at Roman, "Or...wait. You some kinnda masochist? This all just some weird sex game you two are playin?"

[Tally]

Roman grabbed the lighter and lit up.  Like he'd ever do those things with Bart in the first place.  It was only because Gabriel instigated him, and neither of them were ever willing to back down so it always escalated into these juvenile antics.  He still couldn't believe he'd chased Gabriel through the Citadel just to get that belt off of him.

He took a long drag and sighed it out, sagging against the wall and leaning his head back.  "You know it's been like a week since I've had one of these?"  Damn it felt good to smoke.  Maybe it was time for a little break.  When he was so fixated on work that he forgot to smoke, he knew he was bad off.

"I ask myself that question every day.  But hell, if it weren't for you and Gabriel I'd be a hermit by now."

[Anonymous]

"Docters orders that I smoke these things." Bart grinned. It was true even. He had been told by a psychiatrist to start smoking as a method for coping with stress, "Don't know how ya can go that long with out 'um." Bart got cranky when he couldn't smoke.

He lifted his eyebrow, then grinned at Roman, "Why, I feel so flattered. It's like it's mah good deed of the week botherin' yer ass. Not that I can talk much." Bart laughed, "I don't have a Gabriel and ya never come visit little ol' me. I am horrified to admit that I may have less of a social life than you do."

What a truly awful thought. While he got along with most people, few people were really very close to Bart. Made him a little depressed to realize that fact.

The door slid open and Nuriel was already waiting nearby, excited to have something to do. The massive dragon gave Roman a toothy 'grin', "Roman! My favorite Pilot! Has Bart told you my new idea?"

Bart gave the dragon a dark look, "No. Because it's a bad idea."

"Untrue! It's a marvelous idea! I want the female candidates in swimsuits to give me a bath!"

[Tally]

"Give me time.  I'll catch up."  And he just might.  His smoking had gotten steadily more frequent—like the speed, his other bad habit.  What had started as a couple of cigarettes a month had somehow become three or four a week.  Gabriel complained about it, and had no idea exactly how much Roman smoked.  He mostly avoided it when Gabriel was around.

"Then you'll just have to coach me on my drinking."  It was, thus far, the one vice he didn't seem tempted to. But they could fix that.

Nuriel was awaiting them at the top, while Scheherazade wheeled overhead.  Roman's eyebrow's shot up at Nuriel's statement.  Bart had not told him about any such thing.  He would have remembered such a grand idea.

"Nuriel my friend, you are a king among dragons.  That is a capital idea.  Let's make it happen.  I'll relay the order among the candidates and make sure only the ones worth seeing in a swimsuit are recruited for the honor."

[Anonymous]

Bart smoked over a pack a day and so far no one had developed the balls to say anything to him about it. Not that lasted anyway. Gabriel would start and words would be said and Bart had a way of reminding people that he knew painful, creative ways to kill someone. And practice using that knowledge, "I doubt that Princess. Ya ain't in my league. Yer little boyfriend will get mad if ya come ta bed smellin' like smoke."

He did ditch the end of his cigarette by flicking it down the hall when no one was looking, "Now, drinkin' I can teach ya. When ya got a day off next? I'll take ya out ta a bar I know. We'll get drunk, raise some hell and have a great time."

Inside, Nuriel gave Bart a smug look and thumped his tail against the floor, "I knew you would understand! That is why you are the best Roman! Bart just complains! It will be a party!"

Bart just shook his head, approaching the massive dragon. He was going to need to saddle him before they could get going. Which was difficult when Nuriel kept moving, excited and twitchy.

[Tally]

Roman chucked his cigarette in a waste bin, but only after snuffing it on the wall.  Scheherazade was making her way down.

"Pilot Hamilton!" Her voice rained down upon both Pilots and the excited Nuriel.  "This worthless lizard is a bad influence on my Pilot.  Surely you can be a better role model for him."

Roman pulled down a harness and waited for Scheherazade to make landing.  He spoke aloud.  "And why didn't I hear any of this from you?  Thought you could keep this from me?"

"It's idiocy.  Which you have enough of."  When he tried to approach her with the harness she wiped out one great paw and would have caught him with it if he hadn't jumped back.  She bared her teeth, half smile and half threat.  

It wasn't fair.  When Bart's dragon was in a playful mood, he got twitchy and wagged his tail.  When Roman's dragon got playful she tried to disembowel him.  "You see how she treats me, Nuriel?  What did I do to deserve this?"

[Anonymous]

"Darlin', don't ya think I haven't tried? I think it's all the damn candy bars he eats, rottin' his brain." Bart moved to go get Nuriel's harness, which always felt like it weighted about 12 tons. He liked Scheherazade, wasn't as damned crazy as his own. And he would take dodging a few claws over Nuriel's sadistic games any day of the week.

Nuriel just settled down, lowering his body for Bart as he flashed that strange, toothy smile a number of the dragon's used, "Now Shez. Don't be so jealous. I will be surrounded by pretty human girls, but I promise you shall still be number one in my heart."

Bart rolled his eyes, already starting to attach the straps, "When she murders ya, I ain't gonna shed a single tear."

[Tally]

"Are you gonna let me lock this on or not?" Roman said.  Scheherazade took a swipe at him every time he dared step closer.  It was one of her favorite games, trying to kill him while he tried to hook her harness into place.  "Look, you stuffy old lizard—"

She hissed at him.  A little smoke even came out.  "Hmph.  I'm not carrying you, Rosales.  Pilot Hamilton may mount me."  She swept upward with a few wing beats and descended before Bart.

Roman froze for a few minutes and let the awkwardness of her wording get out of his head.  Then he passed the harness to Bart.  "Tch.  Fine.  You take her.  I'll hang with my bro, Nuriel."

[Anonymous]

Bart and Nuriel paused at Scheherzade's words as well, feeling slightly uncomfortable at that mental image. Bart gave a small shudder, taking the harness from Roman. Nuriel was all ready to go and he lifted one massive claw up for Roman, "We shall have way more fun than them. Bart never lets me have fun."

Bart rolled his eyes, approaching the female dragon. He stroked along her neck before settling the harness into place and attaching it, "I'm quite lookin' forward to the company of a refined lady such as yerself. Rpman is a brute. He got no idea how to treat ladies."

[Tally]

Roman vaulted up onto Nuriel's back and got himself strapped on.  It was a different experience being on the back of such a larger dragon.  The perspective was different.  "They don't know what fun is," he said, snapping the last buckle into place.  "They're lame like that."

Scheherazade settled herself and allowed Bart to get the harness on.  She was indeed in a playful mood today and all too happy to play into the friendly rivalry growing between the two pairs.  "Hmph," she snorted, fanning her wings.  Her old voice was mechanical, with little of the organic properties left.  "Thank goodness one of you is a proper gentleman, Bartolomeu."

[Anonymous]

Nuriel was bounding for the exit the second Roman was attached. With a powerful push from his legs, the massive dragon launched into the air, freefalling for a long moment, enjoying the rush of speed and wind before unfurling his wings and snapping out, slowly climbing to circle and wait for the others.

Thank goodness I have you Roman. Bart never wants to do anything. You should make him go get laid. He's always nicer when he's gotten laid.

It was a different experience getting another dragon suited. Scheherazade was so delicate and streamlined compared to Nuriel. Really, most things were. "Ya deserve nothin' less." He quickly settled onto her back, running a hand down her neck, "We better catch up 'for those two do somethin' stupid."

[Tally]

Roman leaned forward into the wind and felt his blood rush as they went into a free fall then soared upward, the city drawing away from him, growing smaller and smaller in his vision.  Most people down there would never see it like this.  As they approached the edge the true ground was lost to haze and distance.

"Hey man I try but I'm not a miracle worker."  There'd be no talking over the wind, not verbally.

Scheherazade watched them rise upward and blew a puff of smoke from her nose.  The boosters on her wings crackled, coming to life.  "I hope they run into a flock of birds."

Speed was her element.  She struggled more than most getting off the ground, but once she was airborne she poured on the boosters and streaked toward Nuriel, overtaking him and flying circles around him, a hummingbird flitting about an eagle.