Following the meeting, the only thing left to look forward to today was the promised victory celebration- in honor of our first deployment as a pair of Samurai and their personal forces rather than the old PMC. And just as the bet stated, I wasn’t the one paying for drinks.
“Hope you’ve got your wallets ready,” I snickered as the bartender slid me my drink. It was a fruity cocktail with a ridiculous level of alcohol content; just perfect for testing my tolerance.
“Please go easy on us?” Jamal begged as he clutched a mug of beer.
“Fuck, man, she can take my money! You see this video yet?” Haley exclaimed as she swiped at something only she could see. Jamal’s reaction told me she’d sent it to him, and there was little question that it was the recording of Reentry’s base collapsing.
“This is the third time you’ve sent it to me,” Jamal deadpanned as they walked off to find a table.
“Wings?” Huifang offered as she prepared to follow the two.
“I’ll pass, but thanks. If I eat anything it’ll just make it take longer for me to get drunk,” I declined politely. Someone scoffed to my other side as Huifang left to sit down and watch whatever sports games were playing on the TVs across the bar, several of which were visible from any given position.
“I bet you can’t even get drunk,” Rick Torres sourly declared as he stared a hole in space. Looking at his bank account?
“I know the answer to that!” Juny volunteered, but I shook my head.
“Where’s the fun in just getting the answer? Way more interesting if I guzzle alcohol all night and see what happens,” I told her with a shrug.
“Besides, Rick is just feeling pissy because he spent all his money on superchats the moment he saw how much money we’re making now,” Becca Cabot chipped in, dropping a hand on Rick’s shoulder.
“He spent so much in one donation that the streamer turned off superchats out of shock…” Cameron Fields added, resting his elbow on Rick’s other shoulder.
“How was I supposed to know I’d need it to fill a superhuman with booze!?” Rick demanded as he shook off his teammates.
“You could have at least predicted you’d need it to eat…” Becca pointed out.
I hadn’t spoken to these three much yet, but they were the members that made up Terry’s fireteam. All I really knew about them was there typical loadout and that Rick tended to crack jokes in briefings. I’d spent more time with Terry than all three members of his team combined, though since he was my firearms instructor and personal trainer at the moment, that wasn’t the fairest comparison. The former sergeant himself wasn’t present; apparently he was a teetotaler.
“You didn’t save enough for food?” I asked the man dubiously, wondering what even drove someone to spend so much money on what amounted to a tip for a performer.
“The food in the cafeteria is free, Becca’s just jealous because my oshi thanked me personally!” Rick stated proudly, hands on his hips.
“I don’t even know what that word means,” Becca told me in a stage whisper.
“Then you should get your head checked, grandma, cuz I’ve told you a billion times- but not to worry, I’m a magnanimous sort and I’d be glad to explain it all again,” Rick replied with a grin.
“Sorry, my brain shuts off the moment you start off on one of your tangents. It’s like ASMR; I get the best sleep of my life when you start talking,” Becca shot back in a deadpan.
“They sort of remind me of Jamal and Haley,” I commented to Cameron as I watched his teammates roast each other. He laughed nervously.
“That’s just how soldiers are. It’s how we show our love,” Cameron said between sips of his drink. He seemed oddly jittery, like lifting his glass to his lips was a nervous tick instead of a deliberate action. His eyes kept darting around the room even while he spoke.
“You…okay, man?” I asked as I realized his free hand was shaking.
“I’m alright. This is how I always am after a deployment,” he assured me. “It’s the fire.”
“Right, you’re the one that carries the flamethrower. It gets you that excited?” I questioned, starting to think he had a fixation with fire to match Haley’s love of explosions.
“Oh, no, I’m just terrified of it,” Cameron clarified. I stared at him, dumbfounded.
“But you use a flamethrower,” I responded, his response not quite computing. “Kind of expected you to be a pyromaniac, honestly.”
“Nope. Pyrophobic,” he corrected me, not seeming to understand what I wasn’t getting.
“So, what, there was no one else that could do that job…?” Alana didn’t seem like the type to torture her people like that, but maybe I just didn’t know her well enough yet…or maybe it had been Terry’s decision.
“Well, I volunteered,” Cameron answered, blindsiding me again. “It’s like exposure therapy. I’m the one that controls the fire, so it’s a little less scary. But it’s still terrifying.”
“Huh, I guess I can understand that. I’m scared of heights, but with all the jumping from high up I’ve been doing lately, it’s been more manageable. I want to run away every time but I can make myself go through with it,” I related as I tipped my glass over into my mouth, emptying the last of it. I signaled the bartender for a refill.
“You get it! Everyone always thinks I’m crazy,” Cameron told me, his face lighting up.
“I mean, I still think you’re crazy, I just happen to be the same kind of unhinged,” I clarified with a shrug.
“Erica, people usually do not have hinges,” Juny observed.
“I thought AIs were supposed to be super smart,” Cameron commented, head tilting as he looked at the Eyebot floating beside me.
“I’m pretty sure she just likes riding that fine line between completely serious and sarcastic,” I noted while starting in on my second drink. “I usually can’t quite tell if she means what she says or if she’s messing with me.”
“Why would I ever say something I don’t mean?” Juny asked innocently. I eyed her suspiciously.
“Because you think it’s funny.” Not a question. A statement.
“Do Samurai usually talk to their AI in the open like this this?” Cameron asked, watching us speak. All I could do was shrug.
“Dunno. My list of examples are myself and Alana, who doesn’t. I certainly can’t think of any time I’ve seen one do it on a recording, but Samurai don’t really get recorded if they don’t want to be,” I answered honestly. “Personally, I thought it was weird having conversations with what may as well have been an imaginary friend to everyone around me. My solution was to give her speakers. Alana’s…seems to have been to never speak to Dylta out loud.”
“That second one does seem a bit more obvious,” Cameron pointed out after finishing his drink. Unlike me, he didn’t order another.
“Eh, doing the expected thing is overrated,” I responded. For a few moments neither of us spoke; I used the time to drain my glass and order my third drink in…ten minutes tops, probably. Still wasn’t even feeling buzzed, which was probably a sign.
“Feeling anything yet?” Becca asked, apparently done feuding with Rick, who had the distant look of someone doing something on his augs. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d gotten bored and opened up his favorite streamer’s channel.
“Nope,” I answered, popping the ‘p’ sound. “And this stuff is pretty concentrated. Something like ninety percent alcohol before mixing.”
“I’d be on my ass after one of those,” Becca said with a shiver. She was sipping her drink much more slowly than me, and she had a plate of cheese to go with her wine.
“I’ll stick with my liqueur, thanks,” Cameron added on with a shake of his head. He and Becca watched on as I downed half my third drink in a few big gulps, which sent a burning feeling down my throat but left me clear-headed as ever.
“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I’m immune to alcohol at this point,” I decided after letting out a sigh. “Not that I was a heavy drinker to begin with, but I was curious.”
“So…since that question’s been answered, are our bank accounts safe now?” Rick inquired hopefully, eyes still focused on something unseen by the rest of us. I thought about that for a moment before an evil grin came over my face. I had two options here: let them off easy or, knowing exactly how well they were being paid, screw with Rick to teach him a lesson about poor life choices. Becca and Cameron saw what I was thinking and looked away to hide their smiles; they’d probably been smart enough not to blow their entire first paycheck in one go and weren’t worried about a small dent to their accounts split over six people.
“Y’know, Rick, I could stop here…but hell, I’ve basically got an all-you-can-drink ticket and the ability to drink a bar out of stock, so why not sample all the mixes this place has got?” I asked him…rhetorically, of course.
“Your compound digestive system is also significantly more efficient, increasing your maximum capacity with the saved space!” Juny tacked on, driving the blow home with a helpful tone.
“You wouldn’t,” Rick denied, looking my way at last. A look of horror came over his face despite the fact that he was only on the hook for a sixth of whatever bill I racked up. Given that his biweekly pay was twice what I made as a team leader at my last job, the sum should have been totally insignificant to him. I liked to think I was doing him a favor by teaching him a lesson about financial responsibility.
“Jason, keep the cocktails coming. I want to try one of everything,” I called out to the bartender. With a spring in his step, and probably salivating at the amount of money he was about to make, he got to work mixing the drinks.
“I don’t have the money to pay with!” Rick objected.
“Don’t worry, old buddy, old pal,” Becca reassured him. “I’d be happy to lend the money to you. Shall we discuss…interest rates?”
“You’re evil,” the poor man accused. Considering he only had, what, a week until his next payday? I wasn’t sure what he was so worried about; she’d have to charge him several hundred percent in interest, compiling rapidly, for it to get anywhere close to setting him back.
Then again, he clearly wasn’t the best with money. Had he…not actually realized how secure his finances were if he wasn’t frivolous with them, yet? If that was the case I was doing him a bigger favor than I thought.
“Don’t feel too bad. This would have happened tomorrow morning when he remembered he needs to make a car payment anyway,” Cameron informed me tiredly. “Happens every month like clockwork.”
“Isn’t that still going to happen?” I pointed out, but Cameron didn’t seem concerned.
“Eh. Maybe the double-whammy will actually get through to him,” he replied, sounding unconvinced himself. The complete lack of sympathy on his part definitely made me feel less bad, though.
Receiving drink number four, I stared Rick in the eyes as I lifted it to my lips.
> “Erica, people usually do not have hinges,”
Knees?
🍹➡️
Elbows?
I think you'll find the elbow is the knee of the arm.
@Placeholder I thought the knee was the elbow of the leg.
Hinges don’t wear out…
@Furkiller tell that to the ones on my door I have to replace