March 2015

ΒΆ ●

Workin’ It

It was a quiet night up on Helios’ Hub of Heroism. Well, that is if you didn’t count the never ending chatter and clank of CL4P-TP units that sped through the halls. Or the loud thumping that got louder and louder the closer you got to Jack’s office. But other than that, quiet. The pounding shook the metal of the walls and made the holographic propaganda fizzle on beat in the bright lights. And if you could make it through the bright yellow doors, you could hear the rest of the electronic instruments that made up whatever song that’d been on repeat for the last hour.

Jack swung through the long hall to his main office room, taking the stairs two at a time and swaying his hips to the beat. He mumbled the lyrics under his breath and hummed along to the words he couldn’t bother remembering. He’d forgone his usual branded jacket for just the Hyperion yellow eyesore of a shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms and collar riding low on his neck. A fine sheen of sweat has collected from his little workout around the office and he was really glad no one was around to see him when he missed a step and landed hard on his tail bone on the polished floor.

Okay, so maybe he’d had a little too much to drink, but who could blame him? Everything was coming up roses for him, and he had nowhere to go but up. An major company (almost) entirely under his control, a super hot girlfriend (and hoo boy did he really have a thing for cowboy hats now, among other things), and the location of one of those super awesome vault thingies. He laughed, a little breathless, and stretched to reach the super expensive bottle of liquor sitting on his desk. He jerked his limbs when the song picked up, taking a swing straight from the bottle and swishing the burning liquid around before letting it numb it’s way down his throat, wincing.

He gingerly picked himself up from the floor, bottle still in hand, his over dramatic groaning drowned out by the heart thumping-ly loud music still blaring on his main speakers. He righted himself before resuming his dance, careful not to spill any of his drink. Maybe he’d drunk dial Nish later. She’d love that. He counted his lucky stars that she couldn’t smack him from a million miles away. Well, at least he hoped she couldn’t. God, he really regretted sending her down to Pandora to kill a couple no-good evil-doers when she could be here celebrating with him.

He could feel the dizziness settle in his head and braced himself on the large window overlooking the nearby moon. At least the booze kept the headache he’d get from staring at it away. For now, anyway. He could still feel the itch under his mask.

Jack rested his head on the cool glass and thanked fuck that space was as cold as a witch’s tit; even if it was annoyingly sobering him up. He could feel his energy drain as his music died out, the constant vibrations from the last few hours having worn out his systems. He managed to make it to his chair and cap the bottle before slumping down in it heavily. He hung his head over the back and rubbed at his eyes. Party was over, time to turn in.

He made sure to grab his ECHO as he stumbled his way out. Nisha would still hit him for annoying her while she was on mission, but it’d be so worth it, if only for what her voice did for his libido. (And because he liked to check in on her when she was off doing dangerous stuff. Not that she couldn’t handle herself. He– shutup.) He smiled and so-did-not trip and fall again before closing up the doors, no-sir-ee. The lights dimmed, and all was quiet on Helios once again. (Except for the clap-traps, of course.)