Pitch Space

Jack makes a half-frown as the left corner of his lips fall on his face, scrubbing hard at the floor in the cooking area.  As his rag nears the area where the other, assistant cooks are, they life their feet one at a time as he scrubs the area clean as quickly as he can while they continue to make preparations.  He always did cleaning duty on Forthdays and he hated it, but he'd not ask his assistants to do something that he was not willing to do himself.

He looks up, squinting from the bright lights shining from above.  A dark, black haired girl bends down to give him a hand and help him stand.  He mutters a polite thank you as he brushes himself off and places the rag in the cleaning bins.  He feels awkward standing next to Beth, because of two reasons:

One, she's abnormally tall and muscular for a woman.  She's only a part-time cook help, since she's also a soldier, but she's 6'2 tall and she can definitely handle herself.  On Earth, she was considered African American, because of her skin color, but no one really made such distinctions here.  No one really cared.  

The second reason, of course, is that he is thin and remarkably short for a man.  He's only 5'4 and that tends to get a giggle from newer ladies when they decide how "funny" that really is.  Generally, Jack doesn't really care about his size, of course, and he's not offended by the giggles of others, but standing next to Beth made him look smaller than small...and darn, it really is awkward.

He clears his throat, moving away from Beth as he points his finger at a chubby, creme skin-colored boy that is cutting up the carrots on the counter.  That's right--today is vegetable and fruit day--Jack has one at least once a month and it's quite popular in the evenings, considering fruits are especially harder to have in large quantities like he offers on these nights.  

"Thinner, please.  When people want their carrots diced liek that, they want 'em thin.  We only make 'em large when we halve them."  Jack says, washing his hands.

"Jack, let the bots do the floor scrubbin'."  Beth cuts in before the boy can reply.  "We go' one, don' we?  At leas' one--"

"We've been over this a thousand times."  Jack says, cutting in rudely.  "No.  Not in a million years when I'm dead and gone and no one remembers me.  I don't trust 'em.  They can't clean it like a person can.  End of discussion.  Now get me the ham."

Jack hears a deep, rumbling voice and looks up immediately with a big grin rising up on his face, stretching from ear to ear.  His eyes brighten as he runs from around the counters towards the tables and next to the breakfast trays where food waited in warm plates to be grabbed to be devoured.

He pulls off his apron, moving it behind is back and stretching it behind him, end to end between his thumb and palm as he stretches his arms out to imitate wings before flexing his thin, little arms and curling his four fingers forward to imitate the massive claws of the gargoyle. His voice rises up with greeting as he pretends to fly towards the great beast with energy.

"Woaah!! Ragno, the Fierce Warrior!!" Jack calls in excitement. "How ya doin'?! I haven't spoken with you in days!"

"I'm sooooo glad that you asked, big man."  Jack says with his remaining grin as he ties his apron back on in a disheveled fashion.  "For the breakfast set, we have eggs, bacon, sausage, soups, my famous breakfast pasta that comes with extra bacon and beefy goodness!   OH.  And I tried to make this really good stuff--"

"DUDE."  Beth says, coming forward with a sultry saunter as her shoulders straighten up in a militaristic manner.  "The breakfast counta is righ' here.  He can smell dat shit.  Quit ramblin' and let him grab some grub."

"Oh.  Right."  Jack said, facepalming and moving aside so that 'Ragno' could snag a plate for himself and take a pick of the various hot plates that offered foods of many varieties.  "My apologies.  Didn't mean to folk it."

Beth rolls her eyes at the childish expression.  All the younger kids were using that phrase for their new slang.  "To folk something" was to mess things up, tear it to shreds, and so on, just as the Folk do.  She shakes her head, placing her hand on Jack's shoulder and steering him towards the clean plates, too.

"You shoul' eat, yoself, Jack.  I know you wanna prepare the next meals already, butchu need a break.  You been cookin' all mornin' so share a meal wit him while the caf's empty, eh?"  Beth says calmly after she nods her head in greeting to Ragnarok.

Jack follows suit and grabs a little food after Ragno does. He was ready to argue, of course, but he saw Beth's face and when Beth makes that face, you do not argue unless you want to be in a lot of pain. The woman's dangerous.

He pulls up a chair opposite of the gargoyle and begins to each much more neatly, but he doesn't seem to notice or care about the gargoyle's fast eating habits, either. He is well used to it, that's for sure. In between bites, he starts to mumble about how there is nothing wrong with doing a good cleaning to the area by yourself without relying on bots to do the work for you.

Jack shrugs carelessly as he begins to scarf down more food, willing to let that discussing come to a close. After all, there was not a point to arguing when you could just agree to disagree. He's almost finished with his plate, anyway, so he'll need to get up and get back to lunch prep soon.

"Anyway, hope you like yer breakfast." Jack says cheerily with food in his mouth. More people begin to show up and grab plates of food of their own.

Jack stood there with silent awkward.  Not awkward silence.    Silent awkward.   That's how he phrased it in his mind.  He's not in the cafeteria anymore, but boy, does he wish he were.  He sits on the small cot, his clammy hands wound tight within each other as he looks down at them.   He can't bear to look at her any longer.  It hurts too much.  He was in his room, singing loudly and off key...but then she showed up and the mood changed with just two words.  

She's leaning up against the wall with her perfect, pale complexion looking far less lovely due to her tears and her expression of anguish.  Her auburn hair is haphazardly shoved into a bun on her head, ends sticking out here and there.   It's quite a mess, but Jack thinks that it suits her rather well.   The simple worker's clothing she wears is also quite suiting in his opinion, because for some reason...for some reason, she is quite elegant enough on her own.  If she wore elegant clothing, his brain would probably explode.  Or this shitty planet would.  Whichever.

Her hands are trembling, those thin fingers are trembling.  He looks up and watches them shake as she wipes her tears with them before brushing them dry against her pants.  Her back slides down the wall as she reaches the floor, sitting with a defeated posture as she leans forward to cradle her legs with her knees up against her chest and her face lowering to rest on them.  No sounds are coming from her any longer, just quiet angst, but Jack isn't sure which is worse.  This silence or those pained wails of agony?

Yep.  Silent awkward.  Jack doesn't know what to do or how to react.  He's not sure what to say--or if taking at all would be the stupidest thing that he could do right now.  Her expression says she's giving up and she needs comfort, but her posture says "don't touch me" and possibly "I hate the world."  What helps a person in their most desperate situation?  Does it not vary on the person?  How can he help his best friend?

Jack moves down on the floor in front of her, deciding to take a risk.  Sure, he could lose his head from this--all dangerous women can get you killed when they are in such emotional states--but she is worth the risk.  He places his fingers on her forearms, pulling them down and forcing her head up without any support.  She looks into Jack's eyes with such grief that it pulls at his heartstrings in the most delicate way possible.  He resists the emotion, keeping his face calm as he scoots up closer to her, wrapping his arms around her raised knees that blocked him passage before her.  Her gaze lowers to the floor, but then back up at his voice.

"Brigantia.  Look at me."  Jack speaks softly, saying her full name for the first time in a long time.  "I'm right here.  Not but two inches from you.  I'm right. Here."

The crying sounds again erupt, tears flowing freshly as Brigantia presses her sobs into his chest, her posture no longer closing herself off from the world.  Jack's hand moves to her head in an embrace, as if his hand were to move over his heart in some sort of prayer.  As she shakes and trembles in his arms, Jack closes his eyes as realization floods through his chest and as he feels more, now than ever, just how fragile she is.  He had never realized!  This is something that is so surprising, not just because of her amazing and strong personality, but also because of how sturdy she always seemed in heart and soul.  

The most powerful woman Jack has ever known is crying in his arms and there is nothing he can do about it.  His eyes open, filled with anger and anguish and determination--anger towards something that, before today, was something he never had two thoughts about in his life.  Brigantia's father was murdered by the Folk just two hours ago.   Seventeen people killed in the last surprise attack.  He pushes her against him more tightly at the thought.

When she had crashed into his room, delivering her pain with raw solitude ("He's dead."), questions wracked through Jack's mind that he had never questioned before.  Will the demons ever get through?  Are they really a more serious threat than he had dared to consider?  Should he have been more involved?  Could he not have done something--anything, to have prevented this?  He sat idle.   Jack was idle, serving lunch to a few people while seventeen people fought with all they could to keep him ignorantly safe, taking all his security for granted and dying to show him the truth the hard way.  

I didn't want to learn this way.   Jack places Brigantia's sleeping body on his own cot after some time, resting her there carefully enough so as not to wake her.  He exits his small room and makes preparations to have someone watch over her before he storms off to the one group of beings that he knows will help him change.  The gargoyles.

Jack steps forward, finding that half the Gargoyles were finding their way out of the Hibernation Chambers.  He also notices that many are also being stopped--the ones that weren't woken from their sleep during the attack.  Ragnarok will be in there.   His fist tightens around the papers in his left hand, crinkling the smooth sheets with stress.   He is stopped at the entrance at first, but when he shows his papers, they let him through.

The briefing has begun.  All of the information of the losses and the attack...now all of the Gargoyles would know.  Now Ragnarok would know....and he knew Brigandia's father well, due to how long he's been in the Colony Military.  As the list of names is fed into their Tech Bands, Jack closes his eyes, unsure if he wishes to see their faces when they see those that have died.  

After that bit of information is processed, they are ready to discuss the new information about the Folk when one looks up with interest at Jack's presence.  One of the Colony's head leaders, Tangris, didn't like to share too much information about the Folk around civilians, and Jack could understand why.  He nodded his head as they paused and many heads turned his way.

He moved his way around the Gargoyles to reach Rango, slapping the new recruiting information paperwork into his clawed hands and then apologizing for the interruption before leaving.  Then, he rushes away, ready to go find out what his new schedule will be.   He's not sure who will head the Cafeteria now, but he doesn't care.

Jack looks up from his work, suddenly losing focus. He is in the kitchens, cleaning up dishes by hand, despite the available bot in the corner, standing there watching him do it. He dries his hands and moves over to a table where Ragnarok is standing and takes a seat without any argument or comment. In fact, it's just a stony, empty face. Beth quickly signals at the bot as soon as he walks away, which begins to wash dishes quicly and efficiently on its own while Beth follows Jack at his heels.

He has no time to get any words out before she starts talking. "OH, yeeaah, Jacky, you gon' getchyo head set straight. You hear me? You are not dumpin' this heap o' shit in da kitchens on Lin--he's a horrible cook and a pervert. You got me? I ain' workin' fo him. Now you listen ta Ragnarok and you listen ta him good."

Jack is already gesturing for Beth to move away, who rolls her eyes and walks away slowly, but sitting nearby where Jack cannot see her--within hearing distance. He looks down at the table as Ragnarok speaks, inquiring politely. Jack finds it ironic to see that the big guy is trying to talk him out of it when people are dying left and right and that everyone needs members.

"No one died that I really know or am attached to." Jack says coldly, but speaking the truth. "Just like anybody, it has affected me. We are dying, Ragno. I'm not gonna sit by and cook beans while people die out there. Not anymore."

Beth snorts. "We soldiers need ta eat good food to go out ta fight, foo!"

"Get lost, Beth." Jack says calmly without turning back towards here. "There are plenty of people in here that can cook well."

"Yeah, yeah." Jack says, waving his hands about dismissively. "I get you. I also don't care. So I helped as a cook...but, I want to help differently, now. We need numbers, I'm offering one more. What's the problem?"

Jack crosses his arms, a slight, bitter smirk rising up on his cheek as he looks at Ragno with hard eyes. He doesn't say anything for a bit, keeping his thoughts to himself as he considers. The room goes silent, and even the cooks and their assistants fall silent and inactive, listening with curiosity.

"Partially." Jack finally admits, breaking the silence. "I am angry for Brigantia. I am hurt for her, and I have witnessed her anguish personally. However...I'm also now painfully aware of my ignorance.

"Even as a civilian, it is wise to keep up with our conditions--our men's efforts and what they do to keep us safe. I never even thought of the Folk and what it is that they do to people when they attack. I didn't even wonder what they look like." Jack looks a bit more angry, now, but he pauses, looking about at the others that were still in the room with him.

"I put food in people's bellies." Jack says now, his voice rising as he turns back to Ragnarok, with dark, determined eyes. "Now I want to ensure that our people have food and a home to get back to. I helped in one way...but, now, I am ready to help in a different way.

"I want to never see that anguish in another person's face. The only way to make that happen is to get rid of the Folk entirely. So, that's what we can make our goal towards. I will be one more man in the effort to make our fears and our problems fade until we have the next problem in this colony. Let me help you, Ragno."

Jack nods his head before moving back towards the kitchens. He still has a meal to prepare for today. Beth glares at him as we walks, and he completely ignores her. She clenches her hands into fists, her glare growing more intense--if that's even possible. Once again--the woman is large, dangerous, black, and crazy...she'll probably kill him in his sleep.

He groans. "Look, I'll still be a part-time cook. 'Kay?"

"Part-time, my ass." Beth groans, slamming some dishes into the sink and almost breaking them from anger. "I'm not eating his cooking, you brat. Not for your little Vendetta."

Jack sighs.