Small Laboratory <SL>(#4907TLen)

Welcome to the Peacemaker-Dmitriev household, Est. 2216.

Although the building's original purpose as a research lab cannot be completely disguised, they have worked to make the place feel like home. What was once the reception area is now a living/family room. The walls are painted an almost-but-not-quite-neutral shade of pale green, the floor tiled in a style of checkerboard black and white linoleum squares that was popular a century ago. The room is furnished in an eclectic jumble of inexpensive "assemble-yourself" and aged commercial furniture, decorated with Bowie's collection of American Southwest antiques. His prize of the collection, a genuine Colt .45 SAA revolver, rests in a shadowbox case mounted on the wall near the entertainment center.

The much larger laboratory (normally hidden behind a sturdy wooden door) has through the clever placement of furniture and folding screens been divided into four areas. Immediately to the left of the door is a kitchenette with a two-burner stovetop and a standing fridge. A wooden lab table serves as a kitchen table and a gray metal storage cabinet as a pantry. Another table holds a small number of kitchen appliances, including a microwave and the all important coffeepot.

To the immediate right of the door is Bowie's home office, which is essentially a mission-style desk and yet another lab table pushed together to form an L shape. Atop them rest a computer terminal with hard-copy printer, global police-band scanner, datadisk storage boxes, a listing of public teleporter hubs, and other items useful for the average Maverick Hunter. A map of the world is tacked to the wall for easy reference.

Beyond the office in the far right corner is a workshop of sorts, complete with a work/examination table, a rack of tools, a small selection of spare parts, and extra weapons and ammunition. There is also a set of metal double doors that lead to the alley on the side of the building.

In the far right corner, beyond the kitchenette, is the bedroom. The sleeping arrangements consist of two beds separated by a bureau chest and the door leading to the bathroom. The first is a twin (single) bed with a mission-style headboard that matches the bureau and the office desk, and covered with a Navajo-style blanket. The other is a daybed covered with a Russian-country quilt. Perched atop the bureau are the plush Kalinka and Bowie dolls given out by Tron Bonne one Christmas - the Kalinka doll wears Bowie's cowboy hat, and the Bowie doll wears Kalinka's fuzzy ushenka hat.

Contents:

Bowie's junk(#5916Ten)

[Radio] Violen sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Better go have a chat with your woman."

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "Mmmnph...sunshine?"

[Radio] Kalinka sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "*sounds upset* Bowie, where are you??"

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "Jus woke up. Whut's goin on?"

[Radio] Violen sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "You listening to me, boy?"

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "Whare are ya?"

[Radio] Kalinka sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "I am coming home now -- do not go anywhere, PLEASE!"

Kalinka has arrived.

[Radio] You send Violen a direct message: "*radio is receiving, but he's not answering*"

[Radio] Violen sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Fine, asshole. You don't need to talk. Just listen. I'm going to be coming for you. Oh, sure, you can pussy out and hide in Loser HQ for as long as you like. Believe me, I'm totally cool with you being a wimp. But the moment I find you outside - and trust me, I will - I'm going to rip off your head and mail pieces of you back to the Cossack wench."

Bowie is still in bed, where he collapsed last night after he finally made it home. He hasn't even gotten as far as finding a shirt to wear, though after his rude wake up call he's tossed off the covers.

[Radio] Violen sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Now your little chick friend already knows about this. Oh, I've given her alllll the details already. She seems cool with 'em. Course, she's not the one who gets hurt by all this. Nah, YOU get that fun honour for gettin' it on with a fleshbag."

[Radio] You send Violen a direct message: "Get in line."

[Radio] Violen sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "I'm cuttin' to the front of the line, boy."

[Radio] You send Violen a direct message: "Ah take it yer bein Vile's lapdog, then."

Kalinka comes tearing through the front door, gun drawn. She checks around the front area of the office, then quickly secures the locks -- ALL of them, her hands shaking as she activates them, clearly upset and shaken.

[Radio] Violen sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Haw haw haw! Vile's lapdog? Oh, pul-ease, bitch. Do you REALLY think I need any incentive to smack a humie-lover like you?"

[Radio] You send Violen a direct message: "Well he's yer competition."

[Radio] Violen sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Hmph. Competition my rear end. Face it, you have two choices: Ditch the female fleshbag, or be in a world of hurt. Not just hurt for you either. Nah, hurt for the Cossack wench when she realizes that it's HER fault that her boytoy's gettin' his face piled into the pavement."

Bowie has an e-pistol in easy reach, and as he hears noises in the front room, he reaches out for it. "<That you, Kali?>" he shouts out in Russian.

[Radio] You send Violen a direct message: "Ya done yappin yet?"

Kalinka pants, leaning up against the door. "Yeah," she calls out. "Have um, have you had any trouble here while I have been out?"

[Radio] Violen sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Yep."

Bowie brushes tangled hair out of his face and grunts as he drags himself out of bed. He keeps hold of the pistol. "Ah jus woke up," he repeats. "An hearin Violen yappin in mah ears ain't mah ideal alarm clock." He makes his way out of the bedroom area, dressed in his jeans and socks but not much else. "Ya all right?"

Kalinka nods, still leaning up against the door, though she looks terrified. "He is calling you, Violen is?" she asks suddenly. "What is he saying?"

[Radio] You send Violen a direct message: "Good."

Bowie stuffs the pistol into the waistband of his pants, his face etched in a scowl as he walks over to her. "Prolly the same thangs he said he toldja already."

"Bowie, I did tell him I was not going to let him touch you!" Kalinka says, her voice a bit raised in panic. She's never in her life felt so vulnerable. All her life, her father and his war machines have protected her from the threats of the Mavericks and the other evil in the world. But no more. She feels naked and vulnerable. "Our love is our business, and it is not theirs."

Bowie does the only thing he can think of to do in a situation like this. He moves to gather her in his arms, holding her in a close hug. "Ah know, sunshine. Ah know..."

Kalinka leans against Bowie, and suddenly begins sobbing, frightened and full of anger borne from helplessness. "He said he was going to take you apart...I will not let him touch you!"

Bowie does the best he can to comfort her, continuing to hold her close and running his fingers through her hair. "Shh...'sall right, darlin. Thay're tryin t'scare us because thay hate whut we have."

Pay no attention to the partially healed plasma burns on his back.

[Radio] Simian Monk sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Evening Bowie, this is Simian Monk. I ran into Violen today in neutral territory, however he seemed intent on harming you. I thought I would just let you know if you did not."

[Radio] You send Simian Monk a direct message: "He's made Kali an Ah well aware a his intentions. But thankee."

[Radio] Simian Monk sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Alright, just wanted to make sure. Have a good evening."

[Radio] You send Simian Monk a direct message: "Evenin. An thanks again."

Kalinka calms down just a little, although her back muscles are still incredibly tense. She's terrified that the X-Hunters are well on their way to the house, to claim their latest victim. "I will stay right here...right here with you...nothing is going to happen..." She closes her eyes, picturing how much more confident she'd feel behind the controls of the Triumph.

But the Truimph isn't here. Nor are any of the Hunters. They're on their own.

"That's supposed t'be mah line," he says in what he hopes sounds like a gentle tease. After a moment, Bowie gently leads her over to kitchen and coaxes her into a chair. "If thangs do happen, we'll deal with em. No matter how much thay threaten, thay can't change the fact we love each other."

Kalinka heads over to the chair with Bowie's coaxings, and settles herself down in it, looking uneasy. "Okay. Be very careful when you are going out this week, okay? I know they are looking to hunt you down. I just...do not want them catching you vulnerable."

Bowie kisses her on the forehead. "Ah promise Ah'll be careful." Actually, he's been careful ever since he moved out of the Sam Houston, but that was because he thought the elder Cossack was going to hunt him down. He slips out of her grasp to head over to the stove. Hot cocoa is definitely in order.

Kalinka begins chattering nervously as Bowie puts on some hot cocoa. "Maybe I can...borrow some ordinance from the UN. Maybe some guns...grenades...weapons or something. There has got to be something."

Bowie sets milk on the stove to warm, then rummages through the cabinet for the cocoa powder. "This isn't the UN's problem," he points out as gently as he can. "But Ah'll ask Bastion fer a few thangs. We can trust him."

Kalinka looks over at Bowie, eyes wide. "We cannot use any Hunter resources," she says haltingly, "Though...Bastion, yes, he does have connections. Maybe he can help us!"

Bowie goes through the motions of cocoa preparation as they talk. "Ah'll be askin Bastion as a friend, not as a Hunter. He an Ah have got some other business t'take of together as it is."

Kalinka nods, leaning against the table as she massages her temples. "...My brother," she mutters. "I am sure he is behind this, somehow."

"He is," Bowie admits quietly. She deserves to know, regardless of whether Vile wanted him to tell her. "He an Ah had words las night."

Kalinka looks over at Bowie quickly, her expression stunned. "...You did??"

Bowie still has his back to her, so she cannot see his frown. "Yep. He an some other Mavericks attacked Seattle las night, durin thair parade. Ended up fightin each other." He closes his eyes for a moment, forcing back some of the memories of the night's events. "He generously decided t'spare mah life." Definite sarcasm in that last sentence.

Kalinka smirks a little bit. "Well, that is what he always says," she remarks with a wave of her hand. "I am more concerned, at this time, that he is sending the X-Hunters after you. Does he really seem to have...vendetta of some kind?"

The smell of warm cocoa wafts through the house as the pot simmers. "He an Cossack actually agree on somethang - thay hate us bein together." His frown briefly falls into a scowl. "Vile thanks Ah'm usin ya. That since Ah'm the superior species, Ah should be above takin advantage a a teenage human girl."

Kalinka takes a deep inhalation of the cocoa, and it calms her somewhat. "It sounds almost as if he cares, in his own strange way...it is so strange, how much he has changed over the years," she muses. "There is only the smallest hints of the original Vava left. It is the only reason he has not killed me...he still considers me his sister."

Bowie doesn't say anything for a long moment, obstenably preoccupied with stirring the cocoa and then pouring it into oversized mugs. Once done, he turns off the stove and brings the mugs over to the table. "...Ah remember ya once said ya still consider him yer brother."

"I do, Bowie," Kalinka says, watching him as he walks over with the cocoa. "It is just...much harder now to understand his motives, or to sympathize with him. But somehow, in his own broken way, he is still caring."

Bowie nods at that, handing Kalinka her mug before sitting down next to her. "Ah don't thank thare's any way Ah can keep frum fightin him. Not if he's goin t'be like this."

Kalinka nods, looking very grave as she takes the cocoa and brings the mug to her lips for a sip. "I just wish they would leave you alone, why can they not leave you alone..."

Bowie sets his mug down on the table, so that he can finger-comb his hair back. "Because thay'd rather hurt ya through me, sunshine. That's the long an short a it."

Kalinka continues to brood and drink down her cocoa. After a while, she mutters quietly... "This is good cocoa, thank you, dear."

"Yer welcome," Bowie answers. He sips a bit from his own mug, then sets it down again. "Ah do love ya," he says softly. "An no one - not Cossack, not Vile, no one - is goin t'make me brak mah promise to ya."

Kalinka stares down into the cup. "Thank you," she murmurs again. "I just hate feeling like...you know, like a sitting duck now. They do not know where we live, but...Vava may have some idea, just by knowing Moscow is our home town."

"Ah unnerstand," Bowie says, then sighs. "Jus wish that we could make 'em see reason."

"The only reasoning they know is violence. I did try to talk Violen out of this, but...he only understands that he has orders to...you know, to hurt you." Kalinka pauses for a moment, angry and fed up as she suddenly pictures her father, cool and collected, in the safety of his lab, without a care in the world because he gave that care up for his better life.

Bowie grunts. "Figgers. Violen tried t'make it sound like this wus all his idea. Ah told him t'get in line." He gulps down some more cocoa, paying no heed to just how hot it is. Call it another advantage to being a mechanical life form. He frowns a little at the thoughts going through his own mind. Belatedly, he remembers that he still has the e-pistol tucked into his waistband, and sets it on the table.

Kalinka stares over at Bowie, looking moody and nervous. Finally, she places her mug down on the table. "Hey handsome...can I ask you something? Kind of...a favor?"

Bowie musters a weak smile that he doesn't entirely feel. "Always, sunshine."

Kalinka twirls a lock of her hair. "Can um...can I sleep with you tonight?" Somehow, even though they basically sleep in the same room, she'd feel much safer if he was immediately beside her. She isn't entirely sure how he's going to take this, though, so she bites her lip and looks over at him.

Bowie has his mug about half an inch from his lips when she asks that. A moment later, and he might have inhaled rather than drank cocoa. As it is, he freezes for a long moment. It's not they haven't slept next to each other before, albeit her on the sofa and him on the floor beside her....

One of the other advantages of being a reploid is that his hands don't tremble as he sets the mug on the table once more. It doesn't stop him from looking like he was taken completely by surprise, though. "....will it help ya sleep better?" he asks.

"Oh yes," Kalinka says, looking completely earnest. "I think that it would. If it is too disruptive, just let me know. I would just feel much better if you were there by my side."

Bowie gives a small sigh. Maybe reading those romance novels wasn't such a good idea after all. He cups his hands around his mug for a moment. "...jus this once," he decides. It really couldn't hurt, could it?

Kalinka pouts a little bit at the 'just once' admonition, though she isn't nearly as disappointed as she is overjoyed. "Thank you, sweetie," she says gratefully. "I will be good like gold. No funny business," she promises.

That Bowie is still uneasy is reflected in his expression, but he nods. Give him points for effort. "Mah bed, or yers?"

Kalinka seems a little bit uncertain herself, though a little bit more at ease than Bowie is. "How about yours?" she offers.

Bowie says "All right." It's the sensible choice, given that her daybed isn't much wider than a sofa. Now that he has some control of his mental nerves again, he finishes drinking his cocoa.

(fade to black)