Mозгоёбство.

[nawigationiskey]

Kirk was back on the bridge.

It was an inevitable progression, but one that made his life infinitely easier.

Yes...definitely easier, even if the stupid fuckers on crew had decided now was a good time to strike against Kept'in Уюра. Sanders and Cohen had been the closest to success, the others were either stupider or smarter. Either way, waiting

Comments

[shoot4theface]

Harris didn't get Chekov's second message until much later. He wasn't the type to dither around in his quarters checking his mail over and over when he could be pwning at CoD already, and he was outside the other man's door within five minutes.

"I got hot wings," he yelled through the door, in lieu of knocking. His mother had taught him some manners. And for all that he forgot most of the time, sometimes he did remember that it wasn't polite to visit someone empty-handed.

[nawigationiskey]

Chekov shouted something that was either Russian or just indecipherable noise and the door parted for Harris. He'd already opened the bottle and had a pair of glasses on his table. The screen on the far wall was lit up and Chekov was furiously maneuvering his character through a smoking wreckage, shooting at terrorists.

"Xорошо!" Chekov exclaimed exuberantly. "Get in, and get mowing, is easy pickings."

[shoot4theface]

That'd make a nice warm-up. Harris dropped the package of wings next to the glasses and scooped up a controller. "Anyone we know on?"

[nawigationiskey]

"A few, I hawe been eliminating zem systematically," Chekov stated as the screen split and Harris cut into the match. Those wings smelled good, he would need to break and eat a few before his next rampage.

It was fortunate that Harris was very unlikely to poison him, Chekov hadn't even considered the possibility.

"Engineering is red team, medical has new players," Chekov explained as his character lobbed a grenade.

[shoot4theface]

If the day ever came that he wanted to kill Chekov - which Harris hadn't even imagined. They were buddies! - it wouldn't be with any kind of subtlety. Guns were so much better than poison.

"Engineering," Harris said, with relish. "A challenge."

He wondered if any of the new players from medical would be people he knew about. He'd bet money that Chapel would get a kick out of killing pretend guys. Maybe Rien would. He'd have to see if there was an FPS game he could get that she'd enjoy.

[nawigationiskey]

"да," Chekov agreed. It was always a better game when Engineering was online. If anyone played this more than security, it was Engineering. "I sink it is gamma shift right now."

The screen flashed and Chekov swore as they respawned at the nearest point.

"Fucking medical and their fucking grenades," he hissed. "Shoot Martens anyvhere fun?"

[shoot4theface]

"Just the foot," Harris said. "But I think he's barred from sickbay or something, so maybe it'll fall off."

It'd serve the little shit right.

"We should get grenades on away missions. They'd come in real handy, don't you think?" He pursed his lips in concentration for a moment. "Oh fuck yeah... Three more kills and I get us an air-strike!"

[nawigationiskey]

"Ve could requisition zem," Chekov commented as he achieved all three of those kills without having to reload. This game was definitely what he needed.

"Я мaёй!" Chekov exclaimed and grinned broadly. "Foot? Ah you vere feeling generous."

[shoot4theface]

Harris's lip curled. Generous? Damn. He hadn't meant to feel generous. "I guess I didn't really think about it. You think I oughta have just killed him? THAT'S RIGHT, MOTHERFUCKER, EAT IT."

He worked the controller one-handed for a moment, snagging himself a hot wing before wiping his fingers clean on his pants. His aim didn't seem to suffer much alteration. Harris's abilities with guns - virtual or real - were nearly inhuman.