12185/Recovering Space Fascist and the Double Redhead

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Recovering Space Fascist and the Double Redhead
Date of Scene: 27 July 2022
Location: Swordfish Bar (SHIELD)
Synopsis: Just two horrible violent people, musing on the end of all things. You know. Over root beer.
Cast of Characters: Michael Erickson, Mary Jane Watson




Michael Erickson has posed:
    Alcohol doesn't do much to Cal'hatar, at least not on this planet. With ten times the bodily stamina of a human being, he'd half to be draining handles of Grey Goose to catch a buzz on human-safe booze; he knows this well, thinking back to a night in a Cairo nightclub sometime in 1983 when he nearly tore a man's head from his shoulders after finally getting trashed. Trashed means angry, which means all the bad habits of his people come leaking out. So. Just beer for him. The flavor, at least, is good.

    So he sits at the bar, nursing a mug of amber ale, staring into space as he does so. Thinks about places he's been, on this planet. On others. Trudging through waist-high toxic mud in sealed battle armor while combat ships drop plasma bombs on distant cities. The flashes of impact, coils of green flame, reflecting somewhere in the back of his mind. He takes another pull, letting the tape in his head play some of the greatest hits of the Bad Old Days.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson is currently sitting in the bar. Not old enough to actually drink, and while SHIELD may or may not particularly care on that particular thing, it's something that Mary Jane (at least when she's the one in the driver's seat) tries to hold to. It takes much arguing with Sonja. And the highly irritated look on her face for a moment before it shifts back is likely an indicator that Sonja is once again annoyed by Mary Jane's resistance.
    She would glance over at Michael, "You seem to be ruminating over a battlefield. Corpses strewn all over and scattered. Meaningless in their expenditure."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Well, that's not the younger redhead speaking.

    Cal'hatar - Michael - is wrenched from his reverie by the soldier's voice that comes out of the young woman's mouth, a single brow arching as he looks her over. "Sonja," he says simply. "Good evening."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja settles down, "They do not change. Not in however many thousands of revolutions or thousands of planets. A war is but a war is but a battle in any form. They are not so different. All end up corpses in the end."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Spoken like a true veteran." He smirks faintly at the ancient warrior's words as he tilts back another swallow, the alien rolling his shoulders faintly before draining it entirely. "Shall I buy you a drink? Is that amenable to your host as well?"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
There's an irritable look inwards, "-I- tell her that it is the best for her to indulge. To be merry. To enjoy herself. /She/ goes on about unimportant things like legalities. Irritable wench." Oh yes, if Mary Jane could tell Sonja she was sleeping on the couch..

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "A different time," he replies, "Different laws. She is young, and still finding her way. You are borrowing this form; you are a guest, yes? We should both respect her wishes."

    He puts his mug down, then, and gestures for the bartender. "Root beer, then. Two bottles." A flick of a look to her. "If you hate it, you can always try and break yours over my head."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would look over at him irritably, "I would find something else to use to break your head, strong or not it might be." The warrior woman would warn over at him in a good natured way of someone who -would- quite enjoy smashing something hard over his head.
    "And very well, but I fail to see how anyone could enjoy drinking something tastes like such excretion."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael snorts faintly at that. "It's an acquired taste," he replies. "I've had forty-seven years to get used to it. I really /can't/ get drunk on this planet, not with what they serve. It's not strong enough. And then, if I could..." Cairo again. The two brothers, big blokes working for the local opium boys. He remembers how he turned one's arm almost a full rotation at his elbow. How he screamed. Humans are so fragile.

    "Anyway." The bottles arrive, frosty and glimmering with condensation. Michael takes them both, flipping the caps off with his thumb as if made of paper, and hands one out to her. "You remind me of the plainsfolk of Satar. Ferocious people, from another star of course. Gave us merry hell for a while when we came to their world."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja would eye over at him, "Mutilatory." She would muse after a few moment, "You drink not as it brings comfort or distraction, but memory and association." She doesn't add 'guilt' to that. Some feel it, some don't. She just guesses over by the way that he's looking down over at the glass.
    Sonja goes to take a sip, "By the way you say 'gave' I presume that eventually the pacification ended? Or they were deemed expendable due to the necessary resources required to properly subjugate them and exterminated?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Spirit and steel is nothing before massed volleys of particle beams." He shrugs as he says it, tipping back the bottle and taking a swallow of the cloyingly sweet brew. "Unfortunately."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would shrug, "Such is hte way of conflict. The side with the better abilities and the willingness to use them no matter the cost is the one that has the advantage. One adapts. Or dies."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Indeed." Another swallow. "So this is you, then? Live you only for conflict? Or is there another woman in there? With interests other than the sword?"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would shrug, "I -lived- for revenge and for fighting. Those were my goals." Sonja's quite up front on them. "She? She wishes to make the world a better place. She is earnest on it. I cannot fault her reasoning."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "And you intend to help her?" Another swallow. Acrid in his mouth, now. Like ashes. "The big sister, perhaps? The ancestor?"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would shrug, "Perhaps. She does not necessarily find -my- mehtods effective. This is her world, her era. Your era. My.. World was not a good place. It is.. Best that such methods are left to then. The world has gotten softer. It is good that mine faded." Sonja can be reflective. Sometimes.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "This world will grow harder in time," he replies. "In places. But aye, it is no world of blades." Michael considers for a long moment. "I should teach her, if she wants, how to fight like people such as you and I. Or at least, fill the holes that might be left in your own august instruction."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would smirk, "There is not that much difference in combat from our eras. One neutralizes their enemy in whatever manner is most efficient. One learns the way things change quickly. If one does not, then they die. A simple enough way to make the lesson." But not saying htat she would turn -down- the offer either.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Long blades or rifles or bare hands," he replies with a nod. "It's all a matter of scale. And a matter of method." The bottle is set side; Michael looks at the redhead with the older voice coming out of her young mouth. "When I was her age," he says, "I helped burn down cities. I helped slaughter populations, conquer worlds. I came here, indeed, to aid in this world's eventual conquest. But of course, when the time came, I killed my own instead. Funny how that is, don't you think?"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would consider, "Perhaps. In the gaze of the beholder. Ironic? Most likely. A sign of growth? Perhaps. But you are here and this planet is not conquered nor razed. And you seem to not feel extreme guilt on the matter or betrayal. So on your own end, it seems like the emotional turmoil is somewhat settled."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I don't like a bully," he replies with a shrug. "They have a galaxy. They do not need more." A finger waggles her way. "And you?"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would take a moment over to consider. "I do not know. It gives a purpose. Something more than letting myself fade away given my experiences do not lend themselves to this world nor her lifestyle." Or her friends

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I doubt she would want you to fade," Michael replies, tucking a fist now under his chin as he swirls root beer in about in the bottle. "I disagree that your experiences do not lend themselves to this world. Certanly you aren't going to go around caving heads in, but there's much you could teach her about confidence, fighting for those around her. Certainly she already has her own measure of courage, I'm sure you've seen."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would flash a grin, "My experiences lend themselves towards making the rivers run red with blood and charnel slaughter. That is.. Was my calling. In this day and age, such things run ill. And she is soft. It is not a bad thing. But she finds my ways unconscionable."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "My experiences lend themselves to facilitating the conquest of whole worlds," Michael replies with a shrug, going back to his bottle. "People don't like it much here, either. So. Get another hobby. I did. Works well." A pause. Something grinds away in his head, and the alien turns back to her. "She isn't soft. She couldn't be and keep /you/ at bay. Give her credit."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would smirk, "It is ultimately her body. It is her full right if she wishes to cast me back unto the void and nothingness, to have me rended forth from ehr consciousness and obliterated. I am in the end but a parasite upon her."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Aye, but since you're here, and she obviously doesn't /wish/ to get rid of you..." The tall man shrugs. "I just think you find ways to live positively and for yourself through her, and not just vicariously observing. Learn to do something other than fight. Hell, I'll teach you something if you want. I got nothing but time."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
There would be a click of Sonja's tongue, "Perhaps. I exist for now to aid and do what I can. However.. We have great differences of opinion and strategy. She is right on the manner in most cases. This is her world. I am, however, willing to learn."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Then I salute you," Michael replies, hefting the bottle in hail. "Tell me something that you know nothing about in this world, but interests you."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would muse over, "The fascination for organized government and bureaucracy. It seems just as much a failure as rampant anarchy and barbarism was in mine."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    A bark of a laugh escapes the man and he shakes his head, putting the bottle aside. "All right," he says, mastering himself, "That's a question for the ages. Do you want the intellectual answer, or something a bit grumpy?"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja would note idly ,"You did ask. I see no particular appeal over the rule of nobles, they are inbred and too obsessed over their own power. I fail to see the appeal of humanity so desperately struggling for ways to rule itself."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He considers that. "There are times," Michael begins, "When I must withdraw into the great void - the blackness that exists beneath reality, the realms of entropy. It is a new thing, of course. An unhappy accident. But when I must, I am imprisoned inside a fruit of crystal, and from that prison I see the howling void and all its angry, destructive winds. Stars that are in reality screaming, dying things burning away to ashes. The end of all things, epitomized in a single realm. I have come to believe that all creatures instinctively have a tiny idea that this exists, the annihilation made manifest that drives us to destroy each other. I believe that they wish to get as far the Hell away from it as possible."

    Michael takes another pull from his bottle, empties it, and sets it aside. "I know it terrifies /me/ to see it."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson would muse over at Michael Erickson for a moment, considering lightly then as she would tap her fingers over then and close her eyes. "It sounds beautiful. The ending of everything. Terrifying, beyon dthe capacity to imagine. To view. To comprehend. It is defying to think of. And yet beautiful beyond anything else I can but think of." She would think after one moment.
    "And why is such a spectacle to be denied? No matter how long it takes. A human lifetime, that of one of your's.. The lifespan of thsoe things that build the stars and forge them?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "It /is/ beautiful," Michael adds after a moment. "But it is also monstrosity. It is, unfortunately, inimical to all things." He looks to her then, brows arched. "My people normally have a human lifetime. I am different. I will exist for another century or two before I die. I will simply...wear out. There will be no aging. Just collapse of the flesh, eventually, as if unto dust."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
    Red Sonja would muse over, "It is such a thing then. We live. We die. All things end. Birds. Mountains will be worn down. Planets will be destroyed. Races shall die off. In time the astrophysicist says that even the universe will die and collapse in upon itself. I see no reason to be terrified of it."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "The Void will take all," he replies, and shrugs. "Those who live without fear are destroyed sooner than those with knowledge and prudence. Trust me, I have seen it many times." A beat. "As have you, I am certain."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja would get up, "I do not live without fear. I merely accept that everything ends. Whether quietly, violently.. But almost always pointlessly. I find no fear in that. I merely accept it." She would get up.