Here We Go Again

[t0l]

As Komachi pushed the Valdez offensive like she'd caught him in some kind of pitfall-Pungi-stake spike trap when in reality he honestly couldn't care less, Tal chose to tune her out, instead diverting his mental capacity into appreciating the vibrant scenery around him. The weather had been like this since he'd first touched down on New Tokyo - torrential downpours mixed with intermittent periods of stillness. There was something soothing about the climate here, the bright glows of various neon signs along the road still visible even as the rain picked up, and it was almost as if he were back on Manhattan despite being half a galaxy away from home. Indeed, standing under the awning beside Komachi, safe from the sweeping touch of Mother Nature's right hand as the rain fell in sheets around him, he felt relaxed, maybe for the first time in years, and thought to himself that maybe, just maybe he could get used to this place.

So he stood, slightly slack-jawed, fatigue visible in his eyes, until it felt like he'd been staring out at the street for three whole months and some change before Komachi's fucking voice came back into his ears. He winced as he heard it, a more nasal rendition of her usual grating tone, and he already knew from the get-go that she would try that shit to get his attention at some point in the day. He swore she never ceased to ruin the moment for him with her strange perversions of LSF tactical psychological warfare tactics, and let out a sigh that was masked by the sounds of heavy rain on asphalt.

"Seriously, you could have just had us meet up wherever it was right away. I don't know why you dragged me out to this dump when you could've just sent me all of this over the neural net."

He tilted his head slightly and leaned to face her, an unamused expression on his face as he raised a knife hand to point vaguely in her direction.

"I didn't think you were gonna believe my story unless you saw the crystals in person. I know I wouldn't have."

He stood back up straight, fixing his collar and straightening his hood back out as he sighed again, right as Komachi presented her demands. It was always gimmie gimmie with her, everywhere they went, no matter where it was. At this point, he was contemplating just straight-up replacing her with an attack dog or something, since it'd be cooler and probably less maintenance-intensive.

Preparing to depart, he contemplated giving her a snarky reply about how he'd been rained on day by day in the Corps, and that back in his day, all they had to shield themselves from the weather was one poncho per platoon, but he threw it out in favor of something a bit more concise. A bit more him.

"Oh, yeah, sure! I got something for you," he said, unusually perky at first as he reached around in his pockets, digging a little straw that the old man at the counter had given him when he got his iced coffee out of a horrid, unorganized mess of Neural Net devices, wallets, flashlights, keys, a knife, and of course, a handgun. Slick as day, he stabbed himself in the side with one end of the straw, allowing the red tube to poke out the other side of the packaging. With a flick of his fingers, the straw was unsheathed, the plastic wrapper flying off into the street to get washed away, and he ungraciously presented the device to Komachi, holding it close to her face.

"Here's a straw so you can suck it the fuck up."

He dropped it like a microphone and stepped away, heading down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, comfortably warm and dry due to his hydrophobic clothing. What kind of dumbass doesn't read the weather report before leaving their ship?

---