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originally posted in:The New Dojo
11/26/2017 8:22:24 PM
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“Look, I haven’t exactly had much beyond crackers and rations since the Allies dropped me here...I’d take some form of beer over anything.” He says, sitting in front of Jason.
“And don’t worry; I could maybe just shoot myself or something to end it, if I want to.” He says, pointing to the Carbine and Grenades.
English
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Edited by Nibber Schipper: 11/26/2017 8:27:33 PM"You make a fair point," [i]Jason responded, popping the cap on his vodka off with one of the chinks on his armour -- beneath his helmet, somewhere. Quickly, he poured the vodka into both of his glasses, passing one over to Marcus, after.[/i] "Name's Jason, by the way." [i]He lazily squatted down on the floor as well, placing his shot glass and bottle of booze down to his right. Both of his hands disappeared into his magic satchel, pulling out a car battery, a toaster oven, and a plastic package filled with marinated chicken tenders -- the type you just heat up. Seemed he held all kinds of shit in that bag of his. In a few moments, the Russian had the toaster oven powered on and was baking himself four chicken tendies, the machine humming lightly. Soon after, his helmet came off, nonchalantly sat aside.[/i]
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“Thanks, mate.” He replies, drinking his vodka. “Y’know, It has been too long since anyone’s been friendly to me. Name’s Mark. Marcus Cambria, Part Of the Australian military during the war.” He tells Jason.
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[i]The vodka had a very strong taste, bitter and biting, the alcohol in it practically tangible... and yet, it was strangely good, tasty, and simply wonderful -- even if it could probably melt rust. In the meantime, Jason carefully watched the chicken tenders, absentmindedly glancing at Marcus every now and then.[/i] "Yeah, no problem, and... don't worry; may as well share a drink with you, eh? You're so outclassed it actually feels like some sick joke... no offense, by the way. Also, war? I assume World War 1 because of the uniform, but the gun wasn't used until WW2, if I'm right..."
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“I think so. Guys on our end; Americans, and the Aussies; decided to make some sort of machine that’ll try to get as many soldiers out of Earth while them Germans tried to conquer the world; I was their test subject. As for the gun, they found out some way to get materials from the US over here.” Marcus explained, drinking his...well, drink. “What’s your story?”
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"Huh, interesting..." [i]He didn't answer Mark's question for a little bit, taking the moment to stay silent as he thought, getting himself and his new friend two pure white, plastic throwaway plates, handing one to the Australian.[/i] "As for my story, uh... it's a long one, so I'll just give you a quick summary. Basically, I was born like seventy years ago in Russia - Moscow, to be exact - while everything was going to shit. Had a decent childhood, went to a military academy, humanity got into a war with fuсking space bugs out of all things, I got thrown into said war when I was sixteen." [i]He paused again, letting his words sink in while he threw his vodka down the gullet, absentmindedly refilling the glass after.[/i] "Got fuсked up bad on my first op to go find out what happened to a research station off on some godforsaken planet -- it had gone dark, went dead silent, all that. Me and I [i]think[/i] five others got there, everyone got brutally slaughtered, I had to crawl out missing an arm and a leg. Was out of business for a few months, got fitted with some prosthesis, was then thrown back into the fray. Skip a few years, the first war was won. Yay. Got promoted to sergeant I think, got transferred into a heavy division with power armour, big giant guns, all that business. Few more years, got into a second bug war. Killed some more insects like the glorified pest control we were, later won that war as well and completely crushed the pesky bugs, so we got into a period of peace. I got married, bunch of kids, wife, PTSD, few pets, all that. Skip like... sixteen years, I wake up in some hole out in space, some ship called the Bloodwrath or whatever. Bad place, filled with maniacs, Daemons, and other shit. Eventually got out with my twin brother, then arrived here. Leave a good while after arriving, went to different places. Won an interdimensional tournament, helped win a war, killed some shit, blah blah blah, whole bunch of stuff. Now here I am again... Thinks that's everything."
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Sobs could be heard in the crowd as the two had their discussion. The two thought they heard the man over the mic sob as well but it was suddenly cut short. The mic was likely muted. [spoiler]closed lol[/spoiler]
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[i][b]YOOOO I REMEMBER THAT SHIT[/b][/i]
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“Huh...” He told him, drinking away his vodka and motioning for another. “I remember one battle. Took place somewhere in Greece. Our men were being slaughtered; marching up the cliff. We were the distraction while the British and Italians used their navies to bomb their capital...let’s just say a lot of them died and we didn’t even get anywhere close to where we needed to be. I was lucky enough to even get back home.” He states, swinging another round.
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[i]Jason was quick to refill Marcus' glass, handling the bottle of vodka with care, making sure not to accidentally break it or drop it, or whatever. After, he set the bottle back down, popping the toaster oven open, swiftly pulling the four chicken tenders out with his gloved hands, plopping two on the Aussie's plate and two on his own.[/i] "Sounds pretty bad," [i]He simply replied, getting both himself and his new friends some plastic throwaway cutlery, both a knife and a fork... so that they could actually effectively eat.[/i] "But, hey, at least you made it back, eh? Both World Wars were an absolute slaughter, to be honest... humans aren't really the nicest, heh."
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“Yeah...and you seem to have learned a lot. I mean, your people went to space; my people still have monarchies...well, minus the United States, mate, but still...just the shit that humans went through...f*****g ay, mate.” Was his response, eating and gobbling the first tender.
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[i]Jason grinned as he started eating his first tender, thoughtfully chewing on the first bite as he readied his response, brain cranking up as he tried to remember his history lessons. He nodded slowly, rolling his shoulders as he swallowed.[/i] "Aye, yeah, definitely... but, to be fair, pal, there's a good 1500 years between your time period and mine, give or take. Humans advance damn fast."
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“So...it’s 2500 in this place? Or did you just come from the year 2500?” He asked, clearly curious about the fact that he’d be 1519 years old in the eyes of Jason.
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"I came from a different place," [i]Jason said rather simply at first, before elaborating rather quickly.[/i] "An alternate dimension, I suppose -- something of the sort, anyway. Either way, I've no idea what year it is here..."
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“Huh...same. Germans, Ottos...they were winning against us Allies. Ottos were teaming up with the Mongols to clear China out.” He states, going for the second tender.
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"But now, you're here, and you're probably stuck, too. Probably a good thing, too, because you'd probably be living under some oppressive regime if not... or be dead." [i]Jason shrugged, finishing up his first tender with a few big, eager bites, only to wash it down with a shot of vodka, a good sigh of delight coming from him after. He nodded to himself, deeply enjoying his food, his drink, and his company... even if he was supposed to shoot said company.[/i]
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“Yeah...and I guess this is a place of sharpening your skills from your dimension, Huh?” He asked, swinging a drink of vodka into his system.
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"Yeah, basically -- kinda. I came back both for this tournament and for a few people I consider friends, I suppose. Plus, it's a decently nice place... and I don't really have anywhere else to go... Oh well."
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“Same. Just trying to get used to all the shit that’s going on around this place. Damn soldiers with advanced blasters, some medieval group somehow taking over the village, LITERAL dragon-humans and aliens....I can’t wrap my head around all that, man.”
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"Yeah, this place is, uh... very fuсkin' crazy, to put it rather simply. You've got furries and lizards, knights and aliens... lots of sci-fi stuff, especially -- like yours truly." [i]Jason grinned, using the moment to refill his own and Marcus' glass both with another full shot of vodka, the bottle about a quarter empty at this point, so there was still a lot of booze to go. After, the Russian took another bite of his tender.[/i]
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“For f***’s sake...” He says, drinking another three shots in one, grabbing the second tender and taking a big bite out of it.
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[i]Jason was quick to refill Mark's glass again, the Aussie probably on his way to pass out from alcohol before he either shot himself or the Russian did the trick, though the latter wouldn't happen for a while, oh no. The talk was fun, after all.[/i] "Yeah, yeah, exactly. If ya want, I can hook you up with some fine stuff? After the tournament, of course."
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“Yeah...seems like a real good thing to do and all... just need that and someone to talk to...like you.” He says, chugging another sip and finishing his tender.
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"Aye, so I'll see you after this round, eh?" [i]It would seem that the time had come for the "fight" to end, since the watchers and refs of the tournament were undoubtedly getting impatient, and since they both had finished their food and their drinks... several times.[/i]
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“Yeah...I guess I’ll let you win. Honestly not up for a fight right now. I can just jump off one of those damn airships; make it look like you threw me off one of them.” He tells Jason, swinging one last round.
