fandomtownies | JGoB, Wednesday afternoon (shhh I know what day it is time is meaningless)

Stark had been walking past JGoB, unaware of the paint-based warfare that had commenced at the school, when one of the employees had run outside, grabbed him and pulled him inside the bakery.

“Let go let go let go,” Stark protested. “Why?”

“Paintball.”

“Paintball?”

“Didn’t want you to get shot, dude! We like you.” A baker, apron and rather large paintball gun streaked with flour, nodded her assent from behind the counter.

“Paintball,” Stark repeated. “Okay. Fine. Why? How?”

“Because it’s paintball. I dunno. For fun?”

“Fun.”

“Yeah, it’s a game, man. You just...try and get paint on everyone who isn’t you. Try not to get hit yourself. Here, we got you a gun.”

“Thank you,” Stark said, considering the paintball gun for a long moment. “We should set up a barricade. Or...maybe something else. There’s enough ammunition?” He hadn’t shot anything in a very long time. But a game sounded amusing at least. And this was a defensible position with only the one accessible entrance.

“Plenty of paint! Yours is blue.”

A short while later the bakery was well-defended. It was also somewhat booby trapped. Where the buckets and extra paint and other supplies had come from was something of a mystery. Stark had run out and come back with less ammo but more of everything else. “I’m resourceful,” was all he had said when asked about the supply run, waving a hand dismissively.

There was a sign hung outside on the door proclaiming the bakery to be “PEACEFUL NEUTRAL TERRITORY (violations will not be tolerated) WE HAVE SNACKS AND ICE PACKS AND WIPES FOR CLEANING OFF PAINT.” There was a weapons check and everything. Of course, you had to get inside for that to apply.

Stark was prepared to offer assistance or shoot you. Was the sign a trap? Probably not. But he wasn’t going to tolerate aggression towards the staff here, even in a game, especially since they’d made a point to arm and warn him.

[Open! The alien is in and will absolutely make sure you get painted if you violate the safety of this zone. Picture some elaborate Rube Goldberg-esque paint traps, then make them just a little more confusing. Also I made this icon just for this as soon as I heard it was a possibility. I’m headed to work (ew save me) so I’ll be slow until probably 5 Eastern. There’s a wee bit of OCD just in case.]

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Nobody's going to shoot you unless you start acting like you'll shoot them. They also aren't dropping any paint on your head.

Also free feel to mod getting past 'security' which is probably a bakery employee having a blast.

Aeryn did not trust the sign. Why would she, really? This, after all, was war.

Look, she didn't really have an outlet for all this anymore. Her outlet was paintball.

So she was stalking outside the building, watching for activity. Or an ambush.

When one didn't come she kicked open the door like a rational person.

Aeryn, no. That's not how rational people behave.

Stark jumped at the door crashing open but his paintball gun was already in hand and aimed at...

"Aeryn!" Yes, he was delighted to see her. He was also not lowering the paintball gun.

"Did you do this? Not the door. Obviously you did that. Saw you. The paintball. Wait. Which you are you?"

And Aeryn, big ass gun still pointed, said, "What?"

"Are you the first you that was here or the second you that was here or are you a you that hasn't been here before?"

It was a perfectly reasonable question coming from a not always reasonable guy still pointing his own paintball gun.

"First one that's been here," she said. "That other one does not count."

Fandom.

"She would probably disagree," Stark pointed out. "I'm sure she thinks she counts. I think she counts. At least there haven't been more. I've only ever met three of you."

Stark, meeting three of someone isn't normal. Also three Aeryns is more than enough for anyone.

"Did you need something? Want something? Were you mad at the door?"

Edited 2020-09-02 18:13 (UTC)

"Paintball," she said, like that explained everything.

"Yes, I noticed the paintball. Hence the gun." Which he was still holding. He's sometimes unstable but he isn't stupid. "And your gun." He nodded his head in the direction of the baker and cashier. "And their guns. But why in here, specifically?"

Edited 2020-09-02 19:32 (UTC)

"Sign felt like a trap."

She still had her weapon up. Trust no one.

"So you walked into what you thought was a trap on purpose?"

Honestly, Aeryn, that's much more of a Crichton plan.

"It's not a trap." Much. "At least, not if you aren't aggressive. There really are snacks. And water."

There's also some paint traps rigged to go off but only if necessary. Really.

"You still have a weapon," she pointed out.

"I do." Stark nodded. "I'm not a fool." Usually.

"And you did kick the door open."

"Because of the sign," she said, eyeing one of the workers who she thought looked a little shifty but who was actually probably fine.

"The sign didn't do anything to you! Neither did the door. The sign was telling the truth. You can see that." Even if one of the employees did look a little shifty.

"The door wasn't doing anything at all. You just kicked it." Poor defenseless door. "If we were going to shoot you you would have been shot." Or maybe there were water balloons full of paint that could have been deployed. Hard to say.

"You wouldn't have hit me," Aeryn said. Come on. Psh.

"Not if you didn't start it," Stark agreed cheerfully. "But are you sure I wouldn't? Or they wouldn't? I've known three of you. Maybe I have a better chance than you think. Cycles and cycles of exposure to the way you think. Or the other you does."

"Those Aeryns don't have a son in junior high school."

She'd seen it all, Stark. Seen. It. All.

But she did look like she was about to lower her weapon to make a retreat, maybe. Cautiously.

"The one has a son. I...have no idea how old he is now." Time is meaningless, after all, so who knows how much time has passed in Stark's Uncharteds. Maybe he ought to call the ship more often. Or ever.

"You could still have a snack, if you wanted. Or a water. Hydration is important." It's still not a trap. Mostly.

"I'm good," Aeryn said, still eyeing that one worker, taking a step backward.

And then firing off a shot because she was terrible and wanted a higher number than Anakin.

Stark had turned his head slightly, just for a moment. That wasn't wise when someone had a gun trained on you and you've only got one eye.

Luckily for Stark his two-eyed bakery companions were paying attention and one hurriedly shoved him out of the line of fire only to be shot himself.

"Dude," the man grumbled. "You gotta pay attention. Ow. I'm hit."

Stark was appalled. But honestly not entirely surprised. Aeryns, in his experience, often wanted to shoot him.

"You MISSED!" He yelled, firing off his own shot before the door closed. "The other you wouldn't have missed!"

Then he turned his attention back to the painted cashier. "Do you want one of the ice packs?"

Here for some food, a break from the painty carnage, or an ice pack? This is the place for you. Poke at me if you need/want glowy alien interaction.

I blame the Discord folks and also Natalie for everything I do. Just so you all know.

*preens*

*sighs*

JGoB, Wednesday afternoon (shhh I know what day it is time is meaningless)

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Inside the Bakery!

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