Scene #851: A Day In The (New) Life

Owner	Pose
Taro	The gymnasium / workout room /whatever the room has been dubbed is busier than it was when Taro was practicing katas the other day. This iteration of Hellsing is a paramilitary organization, after all, and its soldiers are expected to take their physical exercise seriously. A number of men and women making use of the free-weights and weight-lifting machines, and a television drones on over by the treadmills. The afternoon aerobics class just broke up a few minutes ago, leaving that practice area free for the organization's newest and most unusual recruits. Everyone's heard about the pair by now, though not everyone may have seen them in the flesh - the robot (android!) that looks almost human and the damn ugly guy who's too big and broad to be human. The sounds of exertion and light conversation take a notable dip when they walk through the doors, the small almost but not quite human one dressed in a sleeveless workout style shirt and pants along with his usual gloves. "You needn't worry so much, Nine," Taro says to his large companion, continuing a conversation on their way to the empty mats. "You need the stimulation, and we both could use the practice." He's not paying any attention to the attention they may be receiving in return.
No. 9	Yeahh. Too big, too broad, too long of arm and hunched of posture and long of spine and bent of back. He's a fucked up degenerate monster thing, but fuck all if he's not their fucked up degenerate monster thing, on account of their having adopted his lil buddy in his time of need. The big thing dips his hands down every now and again to speed walking, head turned to regard his rather odd companion. He's dressed in a pair of shorts and, that's it, leaving his metal infused, twistedly mutated body on full display, not giving half a shit about how he looks but wrapping his knuckles all the same, for Taro's sake if not his. A hissing sneer at one of the gawpers, flashing glinting teeth and blazing eyes before turning back. "I jest have a bit a a prollem wif th' idea a punchin you man- but I guess all I gotta do s' be careful..." A doubting tone.
Taro	To his credit, the gawker doesn't cower, though he might flinch at Nine's sneer - they've fought vampires and ghouls, so they've had a fair exposure to monsters. Besides, Perkins said they were all right...though of course being told about Nine and meeting Nine in person are two different things. "Be careful and pull your punches," Taro agrees. "I will pull mine as well." Not that he probably needs to, since without the strength-boosting musculature in his combat armor, he's merely on the top-end tier of human strength. Still, it's only fair. He glances back at the Golem, and between the tone and the expression, he finds himself adding, "...though if it would help you worry less, I can wear sparring pads."
No. 9	Yeah Nine's not, helping things there, but he can be a lot more rough and nasty, and a little bit of leering and teeth clicking could be a lot worse. Perkins is alright in Nine's opinion, so he doesn't undermine his bolstering of them TOO much. He just doesn't like to be stared at. Which is, weird, given that he's hideous. He should be used to it by now. And he is, he just, doesn't, like it. He's nodding. "Oh I'm gonna be pullin my punches. Aint no way I'm hittin you at full power. I mean you might be able t' take it, you aint no wimp or annathin like that, but yer my brother man, you don't hit yer brother in th' face full force." Pause. "...Or, at all." A shrug. At the question he's a little bit awkward, thoughtful... and he nods. "...I think that, might, be better. Gimme somewhere t' aim that aint my brother, if nuthin else it'll help ease my mind."
Taro	(OOC Note: Mistakes happen, we're fairly new to this +scene thing, anything before this might be out of order though we think we fixed it. If not, oh well. We're learning!) Taro gives a nod, and after reaching out to give his brother an affectionate pat on the upper arm, walks over to one of the equipment lockers to borrow a set of pads in his size. He doesn't mind, really...though he may give a slight frown when he finds that he must borrow part of the set out of the women's lockers rather than the men's due to his size. Head, chest, hands, shins. That ought to be enough, by his own estimation. The android walks back over to the practice mats once suitably attired, and lifts up his hands in 'is this all right?' sort of gesture. Their fellow soldiers have more or less returned to their own workouts, though they're still getting the odd glance now and again.
No. 9	And Nine is, not always the most charitable, especially when he's caught unawares and is unable to completely smother the fact that he's kind of a fucking asshole. SNRK. He covers his mouth, the grin creeping past even his big strong fingers, a glint in his eyes seeing what Taro has to do to suit up properly. But at the 'is this all right?' gestures he nods. It is all right. It's just fine. "Just make sure you hit with th' pads too, because it aint gonna be fun hittin th' raw metal, yannow?"
Taro	Taro cannot help...well, no that isn't exactly true. He designed the body he inhabits, so in a way it -is- his fault he's so compact. He'll take the grin and snerking in stride. In a way, it's refreshing to see Nine showing something other than worry, even if it's at his expense. "I'll keep that in mind," he assures. "The point is to practice, not seriously hurt each other." He spares a moment to double check the straps on the padded gloves, then pds out to one side of the mat. Nine is bowed to as part of the pre-sparring ritual - any lack of style on his brother's part does not mean he doesn't deserve the respect.
No. 9	He nods. He never gets mad at Taro, so the rage ravaging roaring rampage of frothing madness thing he's done in the past won't be a thing. Taro is his friend, his buddy, his brother. He could never hurt him, but he might be able to sort of throw punches at him, as long as they don't hurt. He can play fight, but he can't- he just can't. But this is a good idea, it really is. He just has to be careful. He has to be able to be. Nine sort of slinks out in his degenerate way, his head partially oriented towards a hunched position, letting him bow and maintain eye contact as he's supposed to, nodding and then getting into position, his body held in a sort of loose gangled way, which looks, frankly, fucking weird, but he seems untroubled by this.
Taro	If it were absolutely necessary, or if he were so ordered, Taro could and would hurt Nine. Hopefully it would never be necessary, and hopefully he would never be ordered, because he's grown fond enough of him to not want to consider it. To say so directly is still too difficult for him, but the brotherly affection Nine feels is not one sided. But this is sparring, and an exercise in restraint. Taro doesn't chuckle or chide Nine about his stance. Instead, he's going to test it. The Golem has size and reach on his side, he himself has speed and dexterity. And so, as soon as the formalities are finished, he moves to launch the first blow, darting forward to cross space between them and aiming a balled fist at his brother's chest.
No. 9	Nine wouldn't mind if Taro had to hurt him. Probably to put him down when he's gone into frothing ragemonster mode. Or because Integra told him to. He wouldn't hold that against him. Hell he wouldn't hold it against him if he had to kill him, send him to hell. After all, it's his brother. And that stupid liquid pose actually doesn't work too badly- his arm sort of sweepsnaps up, a dull glanggg resounding as he moves to block the movement, his eyes lazy and his grin relaxed. Nine doesn't normally fight like this, but he's been trying to learn a bit from the Multiverse and he's trying to be a little more liquid and active with his fighting, less tense and ragey and punctuated-abrupt.
Taro	Ah, then it's suitable for all that it looks awkward. Taro find his punch blocked, glancing off Nine's arm rather than striking where he aimed. No sooner does he realize this than he's already bringing his arms in defensively to prepare for Nine's counter...which doesn't seem to come? Perhaps the Golem is still reluctant. This does not deter the android from continuing. He crouches lower in an attempt to slip in under Nine's arms, this time trying to deliver a one-two punch to the abdomen.
No. 9	Perhaps. He does seem a bit reluctant to punch him, and is still trying to get his equilibrium. One of the problems is that the back arm is usually held a bit higher and usually has his gunblade in it. He's having to adapt just a little bit. As Nine sees the attacks coming in, he- he could probably drop his arms, protect himself, and he does- but he does after the fact, aiming to catch Taro in a tangle of arms rather than just block the strikes, trying to bind and lift his smaller, quicker opponent- though he'd let him go rather than doing very much to him, just seeing if he can complete the maneuver.
Taro	Or perhaps Nine has simply been sizing Taro up. It's hard to judge at this stage. He was expecting to be blocked, but not so much being grappled. His trailing right arm is caught up in both of Nine's and for a moment he's jerked off his feet. Yet Nine doesn't seem to take much advantage of this, and he's quickly dropped to land lightly on the balls of his feet. Still, an approving nod is given at that maneuver once he's recovered from it. "Try that again." And to help with that, he does the same thing himself - a near-perfect reptition of the one-two punches he tried to land a moment ago.
No. 9	Nine nods, and the movement is helped by the fact that Nine isn't tense, or particularly concerned looking. He's a ragemonster, so this won't work when he's pissed, but he's going for that fluid liquid thing and it makes his cybernetics work better- there's no delay between the movements and his reactions. The strikes still hit and the hands zzzh and he's got Taro again, grinning at him from an inch away, before setting him down again, not dropping him. "Though it does mean gettin stabbed in th' stomach if ya had a knife, ect."
Taro	Focused, controlled, good. Perhaps with practice Nine can better focus when fighting without losing himself to rage. Not that fighting enraged isn't effective - the Golem has certainly proven just how effective it is - but learning control is never a bad thing. "In theory your armor would deflect the knife, but yes," Taro says as he's set on the mat again. "Still, it shows promise, especially if you would throw them afterwards rather than drop them." Not that he's going to advocate being thrown here and now - that's a bit too roughhouse for an occupied room. No sooner is the suggestion given than he's throwing another punch at Nine's chest.
No. 9	Nine seems to operate in one of two ways. Either he's an irreverent lackadasical fuck with no sense of propriety, professionalism or dedication, treating the whole thing like a lark or he's a frothing, ravening beast trying to tear the flesh from your bones and rip you asunder. He doesn't seem to have a lot of middle ground but he's there now, treating this with light but respectful professionalism, his movements almost elegant in their simple understanding of his body's capabilities, shortcomings and advantages, nodding as Taro speaks. "Unless it's a beam weapon like you got, sum sorta taser or some magical whoowaa doohickey, yea. Never assume in th' Multiverse and always be ready for sum fucked up trick, cause they love em out there, oh yea." A nod. Thoughtful. "Act'lly I think I'd bite them then spike em inta th' earth, some iteration a that." Nods. Because he's always been a bit... bitey. "I jest didn' feel it was important necessarily t' fake that droolin n' growlin all over you like an idiot." Sagenod. And then he's being punched in the chest, and his arms whip in and around, aiming a maneuver that would either be a ring-the-ears or a skullcrusher if it did more than brush Taro's hair and his head a little bit, and then Nine lurches back, on all fours, circling. "Good hit." A feral grin.
Taro	Taro does seem to bring out some qualities in Nine that aren't normally otherwise seen. This may be why he sees the Golem differently, compared to some of their other Confederates. A dangerous monster to be sure, with a laundry list of antisocial qualities, but not an entirely brainless one. The blows come in, and Taro drops to both hands and a knee to avoid them, Nine's oversized hands scuffing the top of his head. He doesn't stay still, though, shifting weight and pivoting his other leg to to deliver a kick to...well, he had orginally planned for the knee, but since Nine has dropped to all fours and the opportunity has presented itself, the elbow will do.
No. 9	Just a brain buried under madness. According to the Box he'd been a quick and capable man, albeit one plagued by uncertanties, doubts and shortcomings, hence why they'd picked him and hence why he'd come out sort of, bad, on the other side. Nine's arm is scuffed out from under him and he looks surprised, the elbow since it bends opposite the knee not doing any damage but it throws him off balance and yes, does surprise him, and he chuckles as he tries to get back to a sense of equilibrium, sort of scuffling out and trying to hook an ankle with one sweeping pawlike hand. "Good, good! Yes, h-ha!" Enthusiasm, yes. Madness no, thankfully.
Taro	Ah, there's that enthusiasm. There's a near-smile on Taro's face, at least until he finds his ankle hooked and snagged, the jerking pulling his hand out from under him, and he smacks his shoulder against the padded mat. It doesn't hurt, just surprising. "Nicely done," he compliments even as he tries to slip his ankle and foot out from the Golem's grasp. Strong-arming (legging) his way out is certainly not going to work. The Box has been a useful reference, but it doesn't spill all of Nine's secrets. Some things can only be learned from interaction and experience.
No. 9	Nine lets it go easily, not clinging to it, laughing as he circles. "Thanks. I find it's easy t' throw yer weight around when yer takin inta account it's center a balance." Which for Nine is high in his chest as opposed to his pelvic ball, like women and most physically balanced men. He circles Taro, eyeing him for what he's going to do.
Taro	"You do have a lot of it to throw around," Taro notes lightly as he draws his foot back, followed by drawing himself up to stand on both of them. Even if he did manage to shave off several kilograms from the Golem's cybernetic limbs when he rebuilt them. Two can play the circling game, and Taro follows in the same direction as his 'brother'. He's maintaining the distance as well, not closing in or widening the gap. Watching, observing for several seconds is what he's doing. Then, in a burst of motion, he springs forward, yet taking care to not put too much of that momentuum in the punch aimed at Nine's sternum. He did say that he would pull his punches, after all.
No. 9	Nine tries to dodge back, but too slow, taking the punch on the sternum. His answer seems to be biting into the practice pad, using the straps to control him a moment and swings him around in a circle, tossing his head in a way that would release him but if he'd thrown more weight into it have flung Taro off balance and possibly down, assuming he gets the bite off. Rrrr, RRRRR!
Taro	They're starting to attract a crowd. Not a large one, but some of the soldiers have stopped running and lifting to instead stand and watch. It's not surprising, really. Taro does not let it distract him. Even if it is just practice, not watching one's opponent is a sure way to be beaten. Or in this case, bitten. Nine's teetch clamp around Taro's hand, or more properly the protective pad he's wearing over the hand, before he's able to pull it out of the way. He's jerked and tugged a bit before being released, and once freed, he shakes that hand out like one would after punching something rather hard. He'll clean off the Golem slobber before he puts the pads away later. For now, though, the android makes a mildly amused sound. "A good thing you're being careful." He's not tried to move away just yet, instead shifting his balance to his right foot so that he can move to snap off a kick aimed at the same place he'd punched a moment ago.
No. 9	A nod, and he hisses out a laugh. "I have t' be careful man, it's either you r' Medusa what has t' fix me. Even if I can take it dun mean I should, it's hours a work fer you if I'm stupid n' don't give a shit." He'd have to kick quick because Nine's trying to catch his leg, and if he could he'd put him on the ground, though he'd have a hell of a wince for it. Taro might be small but he is an android and they're better than people all around in a lot of ways. He wheezes out more laughter and if he could he'd try to push Taro down onto the ground- though not for very long, not wanting to crush him down there.
Taro	For one thing, Taro is made of sterner stuff than most humans. A fact that does have him somewhat concerned about his new Master. Sir Integra for all her own stern demeanor is still a human. Ensuring that she is properly equipped and protected is something that he should speak to her about... Nine is also made of sterner stuff than a human, though Taro appreciates that he's trying to be careful. The kick is quick, but he doesn't quite retreat fast enough, and while Nine almost misses he catches enough of his foot to send the android off balance and to the mat again. there he stays, at least for a moment until Nine lets him up again. Is that a chuckle? Yes, in fact it is. He moves to grab Nine's forearm, using it to help himself up. "You're being less timid about this. Good."
No. 9	He's grinning. "I like fightin. If I kin do it wif a friend a mine that makes th' both a us better n' dun hurt nobody I dun wanna see hurt, I'm all fer it." He's not a gentle sort, but he doesn't like hurting his own friends. He's not one of those sorts of monsters after all. Evil need not be stupid or even rude, though he was a crude sort of hospitable at times. The bit of crowd they're drawing doesn't get a lot of attention from the big guy, and he's practically dancing around Taro as he gets up. "Woo aa hit it again, do it again!" Dance dance dance can you hit him? :D
Taro	Taro makes a quick double-check that his padded headpiece hasn't gotten knocked too far out of place with his last couple of tumbles, then pivots to follow Nine. He's not circling this time so much as turning in place, holding himself in a defensive stance as Nine dances around him. Truth be told, he's enjoying himself, too. He lets Nine circle around him for a number of seconds. Not that he expects the Golem's antics to tire him out; no, this is to observe. Then, it's another flurry of motion as he dashes in, snapping his right forearm in and forward in an attempt to bat Nine's one arm aside, then following through with his left to aim another punch at the Golem's solar plexus.
No. 9	He gets the arm, and he hits the plexus straight on- leaving the reflexive bearhug to sort of flail, the Golem falling back with a bit of a wheeze, something not, creaking inside but there's a flare and a soft internalized beep, more a bp with the layers of leathery flesh. "WOO good hit GOOD hit!" and then WHANG WHANG WHANG as he eases more upright, nodding. "Yer doin good! Y' ready? Cause I aint gonna hold back!" And he doesn't. Nine's strikes aren't anywhere as neat as Taro's, nor as fast- they're slightly overcommitted leaving Taro enough time if he's quick and confident to dance between them, though if he did get hit especially accidently leaning into one he'd be tossed to the carpet. Nowhere near as much strength as he has but enough to knock you a bit silly if things don't line up right. "Ha, HA, hoo HA, WHUP. Hey, c'mere you!" It's almost comica- okay it is comical, and he's grinning trying to land a sock on the quicker, smaller android.
Taro	They may not be neat and clean, but in real combat, they're certainly effective. Nine is also telegraphing a bit, which makes it easier for Taro to bobble and weave between one punch and the next. A lean to the left, a duck to the right, a sidestep and turn. The misses are a near thing, in part a testament to the Golem's skill (for all its lack of finesse) and in part due to the android's economy of motion. A dance of strength versus grace, this is. Finally, several punches in, one grazes his shoulder, sending him off balance, and as Taro shifts to recover, the punch that follows catches him much more squarely. If Nine had been swinging harder and if he needed to breathe, that could have easily knocked the wind out of him. As it is, it knocks him to the mat. "You still are," he grunts, one of those near-smiles curling the corners of his lips. "But I am not complaining."
No. 9	A sheepish grin. "Yeahh I still am, but I can't help it. It's fer fun, yannow?" And he's pacing, then stops and nearly shakes himself out. "Man I am sweatin up a storm. You mind if I call it? I dun want th' troops complainin th' place stinks of Golem fer th' next week." It smells a bit funny but it should pass unless Nine shakes sweat all over everything or drips all over the floor.
Taro	Taro doesn't return the grin; the near-smile will have to do. "Of course. No sense in both of us wearing ourselves out anyway." He pushes himself up first to his knees, then to his feet. A sidelong glance at the audience they've gathered, and then he bows to Nine to end their match. The show is over, nothing more to see here. He works on unbuckling the straps of the padding he's borrowed,making a neat pile as he removes them. "Are you hungry?" he asks of Nine.
No. 9	A whuffling laugh. "Oh, yeah, you got no idea. Lotta physical exertion makes me ravenous." He could even eat british food, but a shower is definitely needed. "You know one thing I always loved? T'matoes. They serve em at breakfast, innit crazy?"
Taro	"Is that unusual, serving tomatoes at breakfast?" Taro honestly has paid little attention to what foods grace the breakfast table either here or in Neo Arcadia. Or anywhere, for that matter. At the end of that exchange, he'll briefly part ways with Nine for that shower - just because he's grown accustomed to the smell of Golem doesn't mean anyone else has, will, or should - and so he can wipe down the borrowed pads before returning them to the locker. After that, a brief wash himself and a change of clothes, and he'll meet up with his brother again to head to the mess, or the cafeteria, or whatever the proper term is. He's still learning the local dialect of English. Again, there's a notable dip in the volume of conversation when they pass through the doors, along with some looks (and Looks) in their direction. They are new, and unusual, and already there are Stories, so really this is to be expected. Taro pretends to not notice. Today's special appears to be ckicken tikka masala. British food, by way of India, which seems to involve chicken in a mildly spicy curry sauce spooned over rice.
No. 9	Nine stares at Taro like Taro had grown another head. Knowing Taro they would both be exceedingly polite. They'd probably have a conversation, share tea preferences and shit. Blink. "Yeahhh..." Blink blink. It's... VERY, British." Nod. Then Golem shower, because a sweaty Golem is just not fair to folks, it really isn't. But then woooo cafeteriaaaa, Nine had worked up an appetite, real crazy hungry. Every time he does much of anything, he gets hungry; ANMCs aren't really that viable. They can shoot fire and lightning and phase and splume poisonous clouds and shit, but it has a fuckin price. The looks are ignored, or an unsettling if amicable grin is flashed at. Any Look is met with a clashing of teeth and an outright crazy eyed leer, like the fucking monster isn't sure if it wants to rape them to death or just eat them alive. Clack clack clack, but Nine just chuckles and keeps walking. Ooo, curry. Nine's happy to slap some cash down for about seven helpings of it, with sides and then immediately gets into a bit of a social tizzy over asking for a carafe of sweet tea and kinda getting, staaaared at. Yeah. Britain. :<
Taro	Taro on occasion suffers from a swelled head as it is, but having two heads would be a bit much. Perhaps as surprisingly as it is quietly, he'll help Nine with shuttling those seven helpings of everything from line to a table. In doing so, he tries to angle them to an empty table closest to the television mounted on the wall. Then, he'll pull out a chair next him rather than across from him, to try and have them both face the screen. The intended end result is so that no one, himself included, has to watch the Golem eat. Somewhere in this, he's found a cup of tea. Not green, it's black with a splash of cream, but it will suffice. This he garnishes with a murmured prayer and the contents of a foil packet not much larger than a sugar packet, which he stirs into his cup.
No. 9	Nine got his damn tea. His has cream in it too, but his is sweet and cold and even if it has cream in it he still likes it, and it was worth it for the look of horror on the cafeteria guy's face when he'd doctored his tea proper-like. He might well have been a southern boy earlier in his life, or at least part of it. Buuuuuuuut, yeahh... that was- that is- yeah. A good idea, letting Nine face the screen as they eat and sparing poor... everyone, that. Yeah. Good call Taro. Nine is, of course, oblivious of this. He is just sort of staring at the screen absentmindedly, massacring his food, pausing every now and again after wiping his mouth to spare Taro any extra indignity to look over at his brother and friend, sort of, away from the rest of everyone. "...I admit, I feel jest a lil bad ere. I mean, these guys are basically church knights, albeit a th' more run n' gun variety, n' I aint exactly religious." He says this softly, so as not to make a big deal. Taro might not believe in what they believe in, but he's still a man of a cloth, if not the cloth, whatever 'the' cloth is, but Nine, while he's not an athiest (how the hell can you be an athiest when a goddess asks you to be the high priest of her church, I mean c'mon) but he's not... ...he's not, of the godly, pious or otherwise religiously oriented sorts...
Taro	Taro sips tea while Nine devours, absently watching the screen while his thoughts turn elsewhere. It's what he's come to tend to do while his brother sates his hunger. At one point, he gets up to refresh his glass, and sits down again. That he must consume so much to keep those awakened mitochondria satisfied is something he knows intellectually, but it doesn't mean he enjoys watching it. He also doesn't say a thing about what Nine has done to that carafe of tea. He just simply doesn't touch it. He blinks once and then begins paying attention again when Nine starts talking to him again. He turns his head slightly, looking at him but not quite directly, the corners of his lips twisting into a deeper frown than usual. "...has anyone made a fuss over that with you?"
No. 9	It's a good thing Nine has such a wide jaw, and for more than just biting his foes and running his damn mouth all the time. Socking that food back is not easy, and can make a bit of a mess. At least he's not ripping his way through an animal carcass. That's always a real big mess. He shakes his head. "Naw, just... thinkin bout it. Nobody said nothin. Nobody knows. I mean they will. I run my damn mouth. But it aint because nobody said nuthin. Just, Iunno. I feel, kinda, dishonest, bein round 'ere." He, shrugs, sort of inelegantly, turning to regard his brother and friend, uncertain in his momentary hesitation.
Taro	Taro's frown doesn't diminish, his brow furrowing slightly behind his bangs. Nine had made his position clear to him about religion a while ago, during one of those running-at-mouth sessions of his. He took no offense at the time, and since then hasn't gone out of his way to nudge him in the direction of his goddess' fold. Set a good pious example in front of him, perhaps... "I see..." He lapses into a short silence after that, weighing his words before speaking them. "...you're here because of me. Not for relgion, but because I am here. You're being honest about that." A moment's hesitation, before he admits, "That you have stayed, I am grateful for that."
No. 9	Yeahh he's good at running his damn mouth. He looks... guilty, and concerned for long moments. Could this be a divisive thing for them? Could he hurt his lil buddy with his ungodly ways? He's pretty unpenitent. He's, if not comfortable, then accepting of his status as one of the damned. He's going to hell, he accepts it as part of the payment of making the choices he's made and being the person he is. But being here... among these men who seem to actually believe the things they say before they start shooting... he feels... like, something, wrong, being here. He can't, pretend. He can't accept a path he would make under duress, whether fear of the pain and terror of damnation or because of someone else, no matter who they are, he can't live a lie- but the thought that it could come between him and his brother and friend and the people he NEEDED to function as a sane and health individual... well it sent a cold creeping chill through him. He looks over miserably, and then, leaning forward, sort of bumps his head against Taro, smelling of curry. At least he's clean. On second thought he's gonna be sweating out curry spices for a week. Maybe a baaaad idea. Um. Bomp. "You know I'd be here for you man, no matter what." A cold deep terrified place is hoping he won't have to convert to continue to be here. They wouldn't want him to lie and he can't force belief, can he? They wouldn't want that, would they? Would they?
Taro	If the smell of curried Golem bothers Taro too much, he'll suggest that Nine spend more time in his own quarters. For now, though, he'll just also be grateful that he set his cup of tea down on the table before being headbumped. Bump. Bump. "I know," he answers, his voice low. "To have another follow me from one Master to another has been a rare thing...thank you." He reaches out to tousle Nine's hair a little, a gesture of both affection and gratitude. "This has not been easy for you either, though I hadn't realized that the religion had bothered you so."
No. 9	Nine'd understand, he wouldn't even be hurt. He might not realize that he smells spicier and muckier than normal. In fact Nine's normal scent does slightly hint at slightly off indian food, so that might explain why it's so unpleasant to people. Let's be fair. That stuff might taste good/okay depending on your preferences, but it sure don't smell so good. And neither might Nine. His voice is soft and low. "You're my brother man. It's been a change to go from a passive Master to an active one but, I'm, glad, it's been good for you." It has seemed to be good for him, and though there was awkwardness with them, Nine liked and respected Sir Integra, even if he felt the sentiment was anything but returned. But he was impressed with her professionalism. He's, not, easy, to be around. No... He leans into the touch, before shrugging softly. "...I'm, worried. I don't want to mess this up for you, or be kicked out or, make, problems, for myself. And I don't know what I'm gonna do here."
Taro	Perhaps not as active in his life as she once had been, but SHODAN and Taro had over the course of years found a comfortable working relationship. She gave him a goal and left him to his own discretion as to how to achieve it. His methods brought her results, and him his due rewards. Though he has not said as much, that this relationship was abruptly ended, and not even knowing why or how, has deeply bothered him. That he just as abruptly formed another relationship with someone he is still only geting to know is unsettling. Yet the choice was made, and while in haste was likely the best one. "Kill vampires and their ilk. Protect me, protect Master Hellsing. I understand that you did very well at those while I was incapacitated." If so allowed, Taro moves to brush Nine's hair out of his face. "You've also done well at behaving yourself so far." Reassurance.
No. 9	It's all very different now. He didn't know what he felt about it. But his feelings didn't matter. Taro's did. And he'd be damned if he fucked up his lil buddy's life, his friend and brother, just because of, well, anything on his side of the equation. He was just some jerk. He didn't matter. Not at all. He nods. "Right. I kin do that, no prollyem." He can kill vampires. He knows some vampires, but these vampires weren't important, so he had no problem killing them. Except... not, to bite them, or chew through their necks again. Mouthful of ash was not fun. No. Protect Taro. Protect Master Hellsing. AKA protect Taro. Same thing. He can do that. He couldn't not. Nine wouldn't object to the brush of fingers easing the hair out of his face, his eyes uncertain in their staned, dark sockets. "I I'm gonna make sure t' continue doin so. M' a lil nervous, must admit. I aint, that, good at, behavin meself n' it aint jest me that'll get fucked over 'ere if I fuck up. I dun wanna hurt you by bein a derpshirt man, I really don't."
Taro	"Good." For Taro to meet anyone's eyes is uncommon - he seems to have mastered the art of looking at but not directly at someone's face - but he meet's Nine's now. "I try to not ask of you more than you can give, and I would not ask you to behave yourself all the time. Just only here."
No. 9	Nine nods grimly, biting his lip. "Yea. Um. Yeah." Running nervous fingers through his ratty hair, he curses a moment as the strands get pinched between the joints, wincing and flexing his fingers as he pulls his hand out of his hair. "Ow, ow, damn." And he covers his mouth. "Right. Note to self. Try not to curse so much." He bows penitently to Taro, nodding. "For you, here? I will do my best to mind myself." A glance around to the people around, and then a glance back. "Which involves not gettin on folks case fer starin at me, I understand. I aint exactly th' best lookin in th' world."
Taro	Taro's gaze follows Nine's to the people with which they're sharing the mess hall, though the two of them don't seem to be getting much attention right this moment. Some of them may be studiously pretending not to notice them. "We are an unusual pair. Add to that the fact that we are new, and that we are their leader's pet monsters..." He gives a graceful shrug, then leans back in his seat. "...it is to be expected. I know the stares at me are not simply due to my good looks." A lighter tone in his voice with those last few words, but they're still true. He reaches for his half full teacup, takes a sip from it. In part to enjoy it before it gets too cold, in part to give him time to consider his next words. "...Is there anything I should do to make this easier for you?"
No. 9	It's kind of them at least to pretend not to notice- he's not much of a fan of being stared at. You'd think he's be used to it by now, as fucking fugly as he is. He thought he had been. It'd been commented on before, and actually sort of irritated him sometimes, to get called on it. He nods. "The pretty one and the ugly one, yea." Three guesses which one he is and the first two don't count. He looks thoughtful... then sighs. "Call me on it if I'm being a dick. Tell me if I'm doing that thing I do. Don't tolerate it when I'm being purile or childish. ...Don't let me rant, for the love of the gods Taro don't let me go off on one of my fuckin anti organized religious rants, I don't care if you gotta slap me in th' back a th' head man, I, I just, I can't fuck this up for you. Please, help me, do right by you?" There's a raw shaking desperation in his eyes. He's genuinely scared he'll fuck it up, and he just can't do that.
Taro	The tone of Nine's voice makes Taro look back toward him again. It's not entirely pity that's showing in his eyes, but not entirely compassion either. A blending of both. There but for the grace of SHODAN... "If I feel you are getting out of line, then yes, I will make sure you know it," he answers, reaching out to give him another reassuring hair-tousle. "Just as you've been watching me, so I will watch you. Though if you would need to vent your thoughts in private, I can accept that."
No. 9	He nods, his eyes low and his face ashamed. He's a crazy, unstable thing, and it's normally something he does not give half a shit about. but right now? Right now it matters. For the first time really? It matters. He rubs the back of his neck, laughing as his hair is fucked with again. He nods. "...Thanks I, might. I have a big mouth and a lot of stress in me, and I'll be honest, the whole situation here and I don't always get along." A nod.
Taro	"Mm." Taro withdraws his hand, resting it on the table in between the remains of seven helpings of today's special. The shame Nine shows is not remarked upon. Instead, he observes, "We are both in unfamiliar territory here, if for different reasons. You were designed for the battlefield, not for the city. And I..." He gives one of those ghost-smiles before sipping tea. "...well. Humans build communities like this. Dragons do not."
No. 9	A wet chuckle. "Yea. Well, mostly. I wus meant to bodyguard but they mostly keep me quiet. I wonder why." A wry laugh. "I wus built t' be a tool and a... well, a tool. I guess we both were, cept I was halfway made with meat n' all that." SO MUCH IN COMMON. And Taro might wanna look away now because Nine's gonna finish his meal now. Omnomnom.
Taro	So many things in common. Eating, however, is not one of them. Taro takes this moment to go refill his cup, and then spends a great deal of time gazing at the thin tendril of steam rising from it rather than at Nine. "We were meant to be instruments and weapons," he agrees, speaking again when there's a bit of a lull in Nine's devouring. "I remain hopeful that Master Hellsing will learn how to wield us both effectively." A pause. "For having us thrust upon her, she seems to have handled it rather well..."
No. 9	Emastication. It really is a rather disgusting mechanation, isn't it? You put meat and vegetable matter in your mouth and break it down while excreting enzymes and various liquids from the inside of your mouth and then swallow it. Gross. Swallow. He even dabs at his mouth a bit, a ridiculously delicate looking gesture as he turns to Taro once more. "I must admit she's been a real trouper bout havin t' deal with this. An by this I mostly mean me, yer a real treat t' deal with man-o, I've been th' hitch in th' system so far."
Taro	Dissolving minerals and other necessary nutrients in hot water and inbibing them is much cleaner, creates fewer waste products, and is much more pleasant to obvserve. Sip. Taro makes a quiet sound and accompanying gesture of disagreement. "Your less pleasant side is closer to the surface. Just because mine is buried and that you two have not seen it does not mean it is not still there."
No. 9	A nod from the Golem with the thankfully clean plates. No more eating out of him, so there's that, yea? Yea. "Yea but you look better and talk better and act better. You might have a buried less pleasant side but it aint bein thrust in someone's face like a cat's butt in spring."
Taro	A puzzled look crosses Taro's face at that colorful expression, and he almost, almost asks Nine what the season has to do with the cat. Except he may be better off not knowing, and so instead asks, "Have you had enough to eat?" Sip. Yes, this is much more pleasant. He finishes his final cup, and sets it and the saucer on one of the trays along with the clean plates. Nothing wasted here, it seems. "You can act pleasant, Nine. You seem to do that well enough when you're with me."
No. 9	He looks thoughtful. "...Almost." Six times normal human consumption? Yea, sounds about right, unfortunately. "I kin be okay like this fer a while tho." Course Nine can exist with almost nothing, it just involves falling into a deathlike torpor state and then going frothing mad-hungry when anything foodlike wanders by. There's a difference between minimal and comfortable. He looks a touch sulky. "Yea but, you're my lil buddy, my brother and friend. I mean I like Sir Integra but I don't, necessarily agree with everything they believe in? It's... hard."
Taro	The latter is exactly what Taro would like to avoid. While there could potentially be advantages to siccing Nine on a vampire in a ravenous state, it would not do well with the soldiers with whom they're supposed to working. He rises from his chair in one smooth motion, and moves to help move the empty dishes from table to to the conveyor belt for returns. "I know. Still..." His voice lowers. "I have been and remain an ordained priest. I imagine you do not agree with all of the beliefs that I preach?"
No. 9	He turns, a low slow long look at Taro. "Taro I come from a place where the christians come from. The catholics and the prodistants and the baptists and all the other... folks, of that sort of persuasion. Yer from a different religion. One I aint got nothin against." Which presumes to mean that he has something against this particular religion or grouping of it's kin.
Taro	It's an easy inference to make, yes, especially considering some of the other comments that his brother has made about religion over the course of their relationship. It's this one, though, that's the crucial puzzle piece around which all the others connect. It's not all religions that bother him. It's only one set of them. "Perhaps we should head back to our quarters," he suggests. The path that this conversation is likely to take is not the sort to be held in the company of religious knights.
No. 9	He nods, rubbing his face. "That's... that's a good idea." He finishes helping with the last of the dishes, moving to follow Taro. "It'd prolly be okay if I wus better at lyin, but I'm jest so ass poor at pretendin t' believe differen' then I do."
Taro	Taro leads them back to the ele - no, they call them by another name here - the lift and jabs the call button. Once the car arrives, he steps inside...and it takes him a moment to remember that he must swipe his ID card through the reader before it will take them to their floor. The sheer primitiveness of this place is remarkably frustrating at times. "I have learned over the years that is better to simply say nothing that to tell lies," he remarks. "To say nothing takes less effort and memory."
No. 9	His lips purse but he nods, the Golem looking over at the android thoughtfully. "...True, true. Prolly th' best way a handlin it. Keep my damn opinion t' myself. Aint no need t' go rantin on bout sumthin jest cause I feel differen then these good folks do." He nods around him to the rest of the building, eyes closed. "I have no malice for these men. Hell quite th' opposite. I like yer average Hellsing gunmonkey, they're alright guys. I dun wanna see them hurt, iffn I kin help it."
Taro	"I know you don't," Taro says, tone gentling. "They are brave men and women, and I respect them for accepting the duties they've taken on." He stares straight ahead at the doors as the car carries them upward a few floors. "It's become my duty to give them the weapons and armor they need to keep themselves alive. You, my...fr--" He almost, -almost- gets the word to form, but almost is all it is. "...can take more punishment than them, and you can be more direct in protecting them."
No. 9	His eyes close. "Let's be honest, you'd be able t' protect em more then I ever could. Sir Integra is all about the power of the people bein able t' protect themselves, and aint comfortable wif me throwin my troops out in front a theirs. I unnerstand why, but without that there aint a lot I kin do compared t' givin them all th' gear and whatnot they need t' survive. I ken just work t' make sure somma th' ones I'm workin with directly live t' see t'morrow. That aint a whole lot man, at th' end a th' day."
Taro	"It would still matter to the ones you're teamed with." The doors open, and Taro walks in silence down the hallway till they reach the door to his quarters. This time he does remember to swipe his card before turning the handle. Unlike the first couple of times, when he simply expected that wearing the badge would be enough to gain him entrance. Primitives. Once inside, he walks over to his desk, and turns to lean against it. "I do not want to be cruel, but there is more going on with you and with this," He makes a sweeping gesture at the building around them to signify Hellsing, "than I realized. I would ask, if you will let me ask you."
No. 9	"Oh it matters, it matters, jest not th' degree t' what you do fer them." Nods. He follows, slipping in after Taro- before blinking, tilting his head. "Hm? Oh, wait- how do you mean?" A glance around.
Taro	"The religion," Taro says, then quickly clarifies. "Their religion. Is it only that you disagree with their beliefs, or is there something more?"
No. 9	"I um..." A hand goes to the back of his head. "...I, um." He's not necessarily comfortable talking about it here, but, ah, fuckit. "It's gonna sound dumb, but-" How to put it. He tries to think of it, how to say it, how to talk about it, about all the things he has problems with. His head goes down, thinking.
Taro	Taro folds his hands in front of him, and though he is neither in collar nor cassock, he slips into expression and stance of priest tending to his flock. Which in a way he is, even if Nine technically is not among them. "I will make no judgements."
No. 9	A low sad soft sigh. "...I dun know if I have anything against Him. Capital H him. But back home..." He shakes his head. "It's all just ugly man. I know it's all his, fanclub n' all but the whole 'vote for me or go to hell' thing, the fear, the control, the... it's all just ugliness and sadness and pain. Shame, so much shame..." His eyes close and his head goes down. "It's built into it; spreading, taking people over, fuckin eating them up man; scarin people, fuckin strongarm tactics, and it's built in to try to do it, to try to get people, like fuckin stealin their souls. And there's no arguing with them. It's like, they're right, no matter what you, think or, feel or- they look at you and it's like, they're right, you're wrong and... ...I, accepted damnation because it was the only way to fight them. It was the only choice I could make that they wouldn't laugh at, wouldn't count as, me, bein foolish. Wouldn't disbelieve. And I guess in the end if I don't go to hell, then there were no choices, there is no free will, and it's all for naught anyway. I don't want contentment. I don't want to be meek. I don't want to be afraid... no matter what the price is, I can't, just, be afraid. I can't give in to them." He sounds, just, miserable, talking about it, so hunched and defeated looking, against a god he didn't even know if he believed in, against a fanclub that discounted any opinion but their own, in his eyes.
Taro	Nine's words both do and do not make sense to Taro. He has been trying to read the holy text that was in his desk drawer when he moved in, and he has been trying to learn if not entirely understand that basic tenants of this strange-to-him religion that serves as a supporting pillar of Hellsing. (A world with only one deity is a new and novel concept.) He stands there in silence as his brother does his best to explain, and for some time after as he tries to pick through what is said and has not been said to better understand. "Is it because they tried to force you to believe, but you could not?" he asks quietly.
No. 9	He rubs his face. "...It's because their god is a fucking dick. Or at least his fanclub is. Every cultuer had their gods, but no only HE is the real god, all of them are fake gods like he has room to fuckin say that. All that came before is dumb, there were no dinosaurs and no magic and no nothing, just what's in that damn book, and although there's dinosaur bones and obvious evidence that their book is stupid shit and other things happened, it doesn't matter because it doesn't fit their version of th' way things are. And their rules are aggressive, pointless, stupid and malicious, all about shame and mind control, being meek and tractible, good little /sheep/ and I /hate/ it." He spits the words, his eyes growing closed. "I can't, give in, to a system that's, that's /like/ that. I'm not afraid of hell. And I don't want what they're selling. I don't WANT to be saved, if it means buying in with a guy who'd allow all of that to happen, that hatred and intolerance. And yet it's built in that 'they are their brother's keepers', that it's their responsibility to convert by the sword, to save people no matter what. They say that free will is important, but it's only important if you use it to do what THEY want. Well I won't. I won't do it. Even if it means suffering forever I won't DO IT. I WON'T DO IT!"
Taro	The study of Christianity is going to become a higher prioity after this. Taro listens in patient silence, closing his eyes as the ramble shifts to rant and then into a confession in the form of a pronouncement. His brow furrows at the last, but he does not try to quiet him. No...it feels like Nine has been needing to say this for some time. At least the door is closed and the walls relatively soundproof. Unless Nine continues, there will be another silence, this time longer than the first. Then, he speaks again in quiet tones. "As I said, I will make no judgement. You believe what you believe."
No. 9	Nine's known for being... bitter, about things. This probably is no exception. He's very... senitive, and often at the first sign of rejection he sour grapes the lot of it. Fuck it and fuck you and fuck everything. Very much the tale of No. 9. No he's... talked, out, for right right now. Just sitting there, rubbing his face with the heels of his thumbs, sighing softly. He looks old and worn and very, very tired. "I'm so tired..." He shakes his head. "I'm so tired. Of all of it. Of being this. Of being this way. I don't want to be saved, but I'm so, tired..."
Taro	Taro gives a nearly silent sigh, then unfolds his hands and takes the few steps from the desk to stand in front of Nine. Hunched as the Golem is, he can reach up to rest his hands upon his shoulders. "For what it is worth, Nine, in the eyes of one god, I am already damned. My sin is simply for being what I am."
No. 9	He grunts weakly, his voice small, "Why the fuck do they do things like this to us? Why? It's not our fault..." A glance up at Taro. "Well it's not your fault anyway, you didn't make your choices. It's not right man, it aint right it aint fair, who could follow someone like that, who could tolerate that?"
Taro	"Celestine is the goddess of magic," Taro says, as if it explained everything. "Technology is anathema to her. I do not take it personally. I do, hoever, take issue with her most conservative followers. It's just as well I am in exile, I suppose." He leaves his hands resting on Nine's shoulders, unless the Golem moves or otherwise makes clear that he should remove them. "Our original worlds were not fair, and the Multiverse is no different." He gives a small shake of his head. "You have more free will than I. If you choose to not belive in this Christian god, then that is your choice to make. I would and will not hold that against you."
No. 9	His voice is thin. "I am no thing to do so, and less of one most some would say, but if I could I would take Her up with my hand around Her throat and SHAKE HER and DEMAND how she could, think that way how she could, BE that way. Or if the gods are made, moulded by our belief in them then it'd involve shakin a lot of priests like a british nanny." Hrfffffff. He shakes his head. "It's not that I don't believe in him it's that I don't, like, him I don't like his followers. More the latter than the former, honestly, but I don't like the whole thing. I believe in Him, but I believe in a lot of shit that His followers say isn't real. It's all just, screwed up. And I don't know what to do."
Taro	Yes, let us be glad that there are no Celestian priests within a million miles of England. Even the most open-minded ones might take some offense at that. Taro, however, does not. Nine has been giving him more pieces of the puzzle, which he slides into place. "Then not the god, but its church..." he murmurs. "...and now you are surrounded by this."
No. 9	He shakes his head. "I dunno if it's right but, they seem beholden to their churches, to the men who follow them. Like they, mould them or, change them somehow. They grow roth or soften depending on the populaces who follow them, the leaders who give voice to them. Can I hate them for what their fucked up fanclubs do? No. I can feel pity though. What if they're more slave to their programming then you are? I can't hate them then. And if they aren't? Then I can hate them. Hate them, hate their worshippers. One or the other, more than likely. It's human nature, or those that lead them, that sit so wrong with me most times. I am a, very, bitter creature. I am surrounded by this. They are... harsh, but they do it to protect themselves. I understand this. And they believe. I... don't, understand that. But they do what they need to."
Taro	Taro lowers his head slightly, his brow still furrowed. "I think I more clearly understand why you have been so worried about making things difficult for me." Another short silence. "Thus far, Master Hellsing has not ordered me to convert to her religion, nor even requested that I consider doing so. I cannot say for certain because I do not know her well enough to know how she thinks, but I do think it stands to reason that she will not force the issue with you, either."
No. 9	He nods, biting his lip. "I don't think she will. It doesn't strike me as her style. But... I don't know, I felt, dirty, surrounded by people who did believe when I am not one of the ones who follow who they follow. I just, need, to watch my tongue and not disrespect their religion even if I don't follow it, but I'm a dick, and it's not, easy for me not to go off on a tear for no good goddamn reason." Someone was raised in it enough to soak up some of the terminology anyway. He shivers softly.
Taro	"Something we both must do...though I know you have more trouble watching your words than I do." Understatement. "Whereas I do not even know enough yet to know what is disrespectful, aside from the obvious." Taro gives a small shrug, this time in acceptance. "I cannot tell you to not feel dirty about it, but I try to think of it simply as being different. What I can ask is try to watch your tongue, and again agree that I will make it very clear when you are being out of line."
No. 9	He nods, leaning his head to the side and brushing his head against Taro's arm. He's quiet for long moments, his voice low and reluctant. "I'll do my best. This is one of my trigger things, but I won't let it. I won't. I'll be better than that..."
Taro	Taro does not break the silence as Nine thinks, then nods when the decision is made. "Thank you." Then, followed by a more voiced sigh. "I am grateful for you staying, Nine, moreso now that I understand the sacifices you are making for it. Even though this has been one of my easier transitions, it is nice to have someone familiar."
No. 9	He nods. "I'll be good." He presses his forehead to Taro's, his eyes closing. "I'll be good. No matter what I'll be good, I promise."
Taro	Taro accepts both the promise and the gesture that accompanies it. "I know that you will." He knows that Nine will try, at least. That is all that he can expect. Even if there are lapses...well. By his own religion, there is no shame in failure, so long as something is learned from it.