Hunter HQ - Commissary

Once the most-used area on the Fort Sam Houston, this area sees a little less usage by the Maverick Hunters, but it is still an important part of the ship. The mundane tasks of the Maverick Hunter Base are carried out here, from clothes laundry and armor cleaning to basic repairs. Mail sent from Neo-Tokyo is sorted here and delivered, and there is a small commisary, primarily for the human residents of the base, though it gets more than its fair share of usage by the Reploids here, as well. The room is seldom busy, but without the functions performed here, life in the Hunter Base wouldn't be quite as easy.

Wild Fungus [Fungal Bloom] [MH]

Obvious exits:

Down <D> leads to Hunter HQ - Science Area.

East <E> leads to Hunter HQ - Medical Area.

South <S> leads to Hunter HQ - Residential Level.

Bowie is over in the kitchenette area, chopping up onions and jalapenos while keeping a watchful eye on the pot cooking on the stove.

Wild Fungus changes into his Wild Fungus armor.

Wild Fungus stalks past on a slow ponderous beeline to the Medical Area. It's not hard to guess why either as with a wet splud and the sudden smell of rotten meat he drops a half decomposed and enormous purple flower. He pauses, his gaze sweeping into the kitchen as he looks to see what died.

An onion and more jalapenos than most people want to contemplate, judging by the bowl sitting on the table. Bowie deftly slices the last pepper open and cores it before chopping it up to match the others. Wild would normally go unnoticed, except for the non-cooking smell wafting in from another part of the room. That most definitely does not smell like chili. The Texan wrinkles his nose and looks up. "Whut...? Oh, howdy."

Wild Fungus pauses, a few mouth-tipped tendrils snaking out from his back through his tattered and shredded coat and along his arms where they then attach to the massive lump of steaming compost and begin to devour it. Wild's cold blue gaze is unchanging as he shrugs. "Hello."

Wild Fungus

A seven foot figure, clad in a massive tan trenchcoat and a wide brimmed black hat. The trench hangs loose over the Bioroids' frame from a deceptively broad back and shoulders. His hunch is so profound that his shoulder protrude above the top of his head. Large bulges and lumps are visible where the cheaply made coat hangs from his back, which twist and move slowly but visibly. A pair of massive fists hang from the ends of slack coatsleeves. His hands appear to large to have been able to fit through the sleeves, obviously robotic as sickly vegetable matter in various wet shades of green and brown hang, droop, and in some cases drip from the enormous metal skeletal structure beneath. Loosely wrapped over his palms, and a few fingers are some stained bandages, they look old and a thin white 'fuzz' has grown on the thin cloth strips. Beneath the edge of his coat a pair of large black combat-style boots, obviously custom made, are visible. Between his hunch and his hat his face is shadowed, two dull blue points of light all that is visible.

Bowie barely bats an eyelash at this, and in fact offers a smile. "Ah'd ask if you'd like some chili, but it looks like yer already eatin..."

Wild Fungus halts completely, except his head which tilts to the head slightly. This brings it to the full light, and you can see why he often wears bandages as his face is a dripping red mass of near liquid decayed putrefication. a row of small black mushrooms in a straight line give the appearance of a mouth. "Kidney Beans?" he inquires extending a tendril towards the cooking food.

Swing arrives from the Hunter HQ - Residential Level.

Swing has arrived.

Bowie isn't completely unfazable, just mostly. Still, he doesn't seem to be more than slightly unsettled by Wild's appearance. "Kidney beans, pinto beans, tomatoes, ground beef, onions, jalapenos, chili powder, cayenne..." he says as he tics the items off on his fingers.

Swing strides in, casual like. His prostetic arm emits a constant stream of whirs and ziks.

Wild Fungus bobs his head slightly looking down to his 'mess' on the floor which the last smears of which are being cleaned up by his writhing tendrils. He retracts them slowly, "I could stand some..."

Bowie is over in the kitchenette, playing chef. Before him is a bowl of chopped onions and more jalapenos than most people want to contemplate, and behind him on the stove is a cooking pot. "All right. Yer welcome t'some when it's done." Glancing over to the door as it opens, he nods to Swing in greeting.

Swing makes his way over, looking the pair over with slight detail, having not met either before. "Afternoon." he offers as he leans up against a wall. "A little chaos in the galley?" he queries, watching Wild Fungus tend to the mess on the floor.

Bowie says "Naw. Jus felt like fixin up some chili." He picks up the bowls and adds them to the pot, mixing the concoction together with a wooden spoon.

Wild Fungus shakes his head, slightly not looking over at Swing despite his response. "Sloughing off past excess." he offers in explanation of the decomposing heap which is now all but unnoticeable on the floor.

Swing nods, dismissing the notion. "The name's Swing - I'm what they call a vet around these places nowadays, I suppose. I've been holed up in Switzerland the past six months on a contract mission, and now I'm back and see we've acquired some new faces in my absence."

Bowie sets the bowls in the sink before turning around again. He walks over to Swing, extending a hand in the usual Western greeting. "Name's Bowie. Pleased t'meet ya."

Swing goes to use his prostetic, but quickly reconsiders and shakes with his good hand. "A lawman, excellent. I did a bit of police work myself for Neo Tokyo." he adds, turning to Wild Fungus and regarding his unorthodox form with more interest.

Wild Fungus turns to Swing slightly, his legs remain rooted as his torso swivels and leans in slightly his torso stretching as he reaches up and removes his hat. He flinches slightly as the decomposing red matter of his face singes and turns black around the edges, but the taught line of small black mushrooms where his mouth would be twists up in a slight smirk. He extends his other hand, the massive limb a skeletal metal frame covered in a thick green moss late in stages of decomposition. "Wild Fungus." he offers in an even monotone.

Bowie returns to the stove, now that introductions are out of the way. Some cayenne and chili power are added to the pot and likewise stirred in. It's starting to smell like southwestern cooking in here now.

Swing seems a bit hestitant but moves forward to offer a firm handshake to Wild Fungus. "Wow." he says, astounded. "Can't say I've ever seen anything like you before." he says in astonishment.

Swing

Before you stands Swing - a six foot tall humanoid. Now a veteran of Maverick Hunter adventures, his face bears a distinguishing look ofexperience. His hard chiseled features show muted and extremely reserved emotion - it's a precious moment when this fellow actually laughs out loud.

It seems recent times have been very, very harsh to Swing. While his right arm appears normal, his left is completely different. One would liken it to an exoskeleton arm - no flesh, no armor. Three very coarse manipulator claws form a very crude claw at the end, giving Swing some semblence of a hand. All and all, he has a build and armor patterning disturbingly similar to Vile, with the obvious exceptions of things like the shield and the dreaded 'T' style helmet. His gauntlets haveblunted stubs on the fingers - possibly some weapon? At his side is a fairly exaggerated Nightstick - thicker and longer than a standard club, it sports a few techno bits of its own. Flowing from Swing's head is a nice bushel of vibrant blue hair. Though, unlike Zero, Swing keeps his tied up with a headband and the actual tail tucked into his armor. The rest of his form is in decent shape. However, the sparkle that used to always be present in this Hunter's eyes has seem to have lost luster in this time of woe.

Wild Fungus releases Swing's hand, shaking his own firmly three times in the air he shakes some loosened gooey chunks free. He replaces his hat and hunches over slightly protecting his face from the sunlight briefly. He eyes the small blobs of his own biological component briefly and shakes his head, "Offensive strain and photosynthesization units are re-enterring perennial hibernation."

Swing blinks a few times. "Indeed." he replies, a look of amused surprise on his face. "So, what did I interrupt here?" he asks, gazing over at the chili.

Bowie brings the pot down to a simmer and continues stirring. After or moment or two he has a sample. Nope, not ready yet. Another liberal dose of cayenne is added. "Not much. Felt like cookin, so here Ah am."

Wild Fungus shrugs, extending one of his tendrils past Bowie and onto the counter towards the chili. It doesn't say long in the heat however and Wild quickly pulls it back. He shrugs again, "Chili?"

Swing flexes his prostetic and fingers the elbow joint with his good hand, still a bit amazed by Wild Fungus's psuedopods and the amount of c-powder going into the chili.

Bowie looks at the tendril in surprise, if only because it's after the chili. Well, if he insists on tasting it before it's done, there's not much he can do about it.

It should be noted that this is hot and spicy Texan chili. Meaning, above and beyond normal Texan spicy chili. That might be why he's using a wooden spoon instead of a metal one.

Wild Fungus tilts his head, attracted by the bizarre mechanical sounds output by Swing's prosthetic limb. His head tilts slightly to the side as he leans in to look at it, the his optics lenses making a feint whirring sound as he zooms in. "Nice fix-up." he comments dryly.

Swing frowns slightly. "Yeah." he offers sullenly. "Parting gift from my last brotherly reunion." He doesn't add he's put off the repair, though. "I should be able to function normally even without the parts, I'm told." he looks at the three pronged hand in mild disgust.

Bowie continues stirring. It's almost done. Just needs a dash more of something...a little cumin should do the trick. "Ah'm sure one a the docs can fix ya up," he says over his shoulder.

Wild Fungus shrugs turning to peer over Bowie's shoulder at the chili. "I've seen worse." he offers neutrally, and taking a few steps towards the counter.

Swing winces a bit, still interested in the chili. "The catch is they need to shut down a few active programs in my noggin to effect motor control repair and well - let's just say a few of those programs need to stay active no matter what." he adds, attempting to again talk about the innocuous chili. "That's looking like you could remove paint with it, Bowie, all those spices."

Bowie wonders for a moment whether Wild's referring to Swing's arm, or to his chili. At any rate, the concoction is all but done, and so he rummages through the cabinet to find some bowls. "Naw. Might make yer hair stand on end, but that's the best kind."

Wild Fungus shrugs one of his tendrils digging into a pocket in his destroyed trenchcoat, it removes a large roll of cotton bandages, which he quickly beings to wrap his hands with as he watches Bowie look for dishes."I don't know about paint." he mutters.

Swing watches with continued interest. "How enticing." he smirks.

Bowie finds a set of pyrex bowls, keeps one for himself, and hands one each to Wild and Swing. "Help yerselves. Ah thank there's crackers in the cabinet, if ya want 'em."

Swing takes the bowl and tentatively juts a finger into to the meal and tastes a small dose. "Whoa." he whispers.

Bowie ladles himself a bowl and has a seat at the table. "Like Ah said, makes yer hair stand on end," he grins.

Wild Fungus approaches the stove, taking the bowl in his mammoth hands. He eyes the bubbling pot carefully for a moment before he finally uses a tendril to cautiously spoon some into the bowl, As he dips the spoon in for his final scoop his tendril brushes the side of the pot and he drops the spoon violently whips it against the floor as it catches on fire almost immediately, and puts it out. "Hot." he confirms.

Swing rises from his seat at the sudden burst of movement, stopping as Wild Fungus explains. "You seem a bit....flammable." Swing adds awkwardly.

Bowie stands up as well, his hand already reaching for a towel. "Ya all right?"

Wild Fungus shrugs as the scorched and limp appendage slowly retracts, snaking along Wild's arm and then dissappearing into one of the bulging objects on his back, which swells up noticably. He cups the bowl in both hands as three of his tendrils attack it. Tipped with what resemble venus flytrap mouths the vines suck the chili up whole.

Bowie sits back down, quietly sweatdropping. He didn't think he'd gotten it that hot...

Swing slowly sits as well. "At least the organized chaos I recall is still in place." he remarks as he picks up his spoon, casting a concerned look in Wild's direction.

Rigger arrives from the Hunter HQ - Residential Level.

Rigger has arrived.

[OOC] Rigger says, "People use this place? I'm shocked."

[OOC] Bowie fixed chili. You have been warned. ;)

[OOC] Rigger RUNS.

[OOC] Wild Fungus is eating it.

[OOC] Bowie says, "Oh come on, it's not that bad! It's caught only Wild Fungus on fire so far!"

[OOC] Rigger can't stay long anyway as she's leaving for dinner RL, so just hops through.

Rigger enters the Hunter HQ - Medical Area.

Rigger has left.

Bowie tilts his head slightly, also giving Wild a concerned look. He takes a spoonful of chili. Hm, no, it's about the usual way he prepares it...

Swing settles on the chair, putting his gimp arm at his side as he ruminates with his new comrades and the meal. "You fellas seen any action lately?" he asks, again steadying himself with another spoonful.

Wild Fungus stands nearby not moving towards the seats which probably aren't, but do look too small for him. He finishes... absorbing his chili and sets it back on the counter empty with a tendril. "It's good." he states simply.

Bowie nods to Swing. "Been in and out a Africa a few times."

Swing nods in recognition. "Sounds like Wily's spinning some tall tales in there, what with all the chatter on the e-boards these days."

Wild Fungus says, "I've seen the Dam they're constructing in the Aswan."

Bowie says "Yeah, bad thang's that Wily's backin it up with action. He's treatin the people good, least fer now." He nods at Wild's words. "So've Ah. Ended up with a belly full a the sea fer mah trouble, too."

Swing quirks a brow. "Dam? What do you think they're up to?" he asks with interest as he slowly leads his spoon in a circle through the thick tomato miasma in his bowl.

Wild Fungus shrugs, "Defense, power, exmployment..."

Bowie nods his agreement with Wild's words. No sense in repeating them.

Swing flicks his tongue back and forth a few times, nodding as he chases a bit of chili about his mouth. "Sounds like they're in it for the long haul." he muses "They must think they have the fortifications to root down like that - sounds like Enker finally got to the old Doc with his ideas."

Bowie munches thoughtfully for a moment before asking his question. "Whut ideas?"

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Chill Snowcat transmits, "Hey guys, Vile just rolled inta town bout 20 minutes ago and looks like Goliath is all nice shiny and ready fer a night on the town anytime he wants."

Wild Fungus shrugs. stepping towards the table and chairs, "It's well defended. But it is finitely long." He shrugs. "It looks like a good target, but there's plenty of..." He emits a burbly deep wet chuckle as he looks at his bandaged hands, "Soft spots."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Bowie transmits, "Whut town whare?"

Swing gestures with his spoon. "Old school strats. Defend the castle, capture the flag type stuff. The Docs have figured Bass is partial to a more dynamic, less static approach. This sittin' in Africa just smacks of Enker."

"Maybe," concedes Bowie, "But Ah could thank a other targets. Dam's too well defended." He nods to Swing. "Whoever's idea it is, it's werkin. That's whut's got me worried 'bout it. Ah know Europe's takin prioroty, but we can't jus keep puttin Wily on the back burner."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Chill Snowcat transmits, "Tartarus....also Gemini was nosin around and well I distracted him. I got pictures of different beins I've seen around here and worked out a chart of associations...anyone I've seen talkin together and when...."

Swing nods, offering a tired and resigned laugh. "I can't wait till the day we have just one enemy to work on. Seems we'll always be dealing with that crazy old man."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Dr. Thomas Light transmits, "Well done."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Bowie transmits, "Good werk, Chill."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Chill Snowcat transmits, "anythin else we need?"

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Ether Skunk transmits, "So when do we get to call orbital bombardment down on Tartarus, anyway? And that stupid dam, too!"

Wild Fungus shrugs, "He can't live forever."

Swing grins in a sinister fashion and points his spoon at Wild Fungus. "Here's hoping."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Wild Fungus transmits, "We could ignore the Dam"

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Wild Fungus transmits, "Plenty of clean coast."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Alia transmits, "When did we get orbital satellite weapons?"

Bowie says "True, but neither can we. 'Sides, if thare's one thang Ah've learned, it's that if it ain't one thang it's a whole mess a thangs."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Bowie transmits, "Jus fer ya t'come home in one piece, Chill."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Chill Snowcat transmits, "HOw can we Ether? There are innocent reploids out here....some who AREN'T Mavericks or Masters who are just lookin fer a place ta live without persecution and stuff."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Ether Skunk transmits, "Persecution?"

Swing nods to Bowie. "Ain't that the truth." Swing reaches for a glass of water. "Whew. That stuff's going to short out my terpene receptors."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Chill Snowcat transmits, "There ARE countries who treated reploids like crap"

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Bowie transmits, "Whut Chill said. We ain't all liked everywhare, ya know."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Ether Skunk transmits, "Hrmph. Beats livin' in a place like that, anyway."

Bowie is temporarily distracted by radio chatter, and so it takes him a moment to answer Swing. "Best watch out fer my salsa, then," he kids.

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Bowie transmits, "Ya ever been on the receivin end, Miss Ether?"

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Chill Snowcat transmits, "so what should I do...do I get more infermation? Whatcha need me ta do? I gotta get back inta the city or I might be noticed going for a unconstitutional constitutional...."

Swing chuckles at Bowie and rubs his chin as he finishes the long drink of water. "I see we still have some hot heads in the organization." he adds as he taps his radio to indicate who he speaks of.

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Dr. Thomas Light transmits, "Take cover for now, Chill. You're doing great. Activate your beacon if you get in trouble, we'll take it as an emergency signal."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Dr. Thomas Light transmits, "Come home when you need to. And take care."

Bowie nods. "Yeah, always got t'have a couple a those." He pauses. "Jus hope Chill keeps his head down out thare."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Protean Tiger transmits, "Protean Tiger, reporting in for duty. I'll be in the training room meditating if needed."

Swing narrows his eyes. "What's this Tartarus I've heard of. I didn't see it on our tac-map upstairs."

Bowie shrugs his shoulders. "Vile's new playground. Don't know much 'bout it. Ah don't thank we even know quite whare it is."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Ether Skunk transmits, "Yes, -Bowie.- Still beats always havin' to worry about gettin' shot and gutted like a fish jus' for fun."

Wild Fungus leans against a near by wall he bobs his head occassionally to the conversation, rarely commenting, as he retracts the rest of his tendrils and the growth on his back swells large and ripples.

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Swing transmits, "Thems the breaks when it comes to Hunting."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Bowie transmits, "All right, then. Desprate people do desprate thangs. Ah'll leave it at that."

[Radio: (C) Hunter] Ether Skunk transmits, "... that's not what I was talking about!"

Swing shakes his head. "Sounds like Vile alright." Swing grimaces and looks back down at his false arm, flexing it as it responds with a *zik-zik whirrr* series of chirps.

Wild Fungus slowly turns to look at Swing more fully, "Thinking of going somewhere?"

Bowie says "Ah hope we get a fix on Tartarus soon. Ah don't like the idea a there bein more places we can't find."

Swing frowns sourly. "Probably not. I haven't been a match for Vile as long as I can remember."

Bowie shakes his head, the corners of his lips tugging into a frown. "Not many are. Ah saw whut he did t'Chill."

Swing nods in kind. "I'll have to get some intel from Chill on that place, see what my dear brother has been up to."

Bowie says "Ah'm sure Chill will be happy t'tell ya everythang. Boy likes t'talk." He does raise an eyebrow slightly at the world brother. Apparently he's not in the know.

Wild Fungus remains silent and distant as the big sac on his back continues to effect minor repairwork on his tendrils.

Swing settles back into his chair. "I'll do that - so, how're the big boys - Rock, Zero" he quickly looks around before finally adding "Blues."

Bowie polishes off the last of his chili, and hasn't even reached for the water yet. "Busy. Ah hardly ever see em, mahself. Course, all a us are almost always busy."

Swing grunts a laugh, not completely sold on the notion. "Probably." he concedes, scooping the last of his portion before downing another glass of water.

Bowie shrugs again. "Still hardly see 'em, fer whutever reason."

Swing stares into the chili bowl for a bit longer before resigning a sigh and standing up. "Well, I think I better pour over some paperwork - I'm coordinating Hunter security for the Mechanized Labor Party in Boston next week - should be /loads/ of fun. Thanks for the meal Bowie, pleasure to meet you, Wild Fungus." he adds as he slings his bowl into the sink.

Bowie nods and smiles. "Yer welcome. If ya need any help with security, jus holler."