Mullet-verse fic: I like club music, just not at the volume played in clubs.
Title: Something With A Beat
Fandom: Mullet-verse
Characters: Jon and Danny Carter-Kord, Spooky Smith
Word Count: 922
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Jon beats stuff up while listening to music. Best. Description. EVAR! *headdesk* This is what happens when I listen to certain music. Did I have any in particular in mind while writing this? No. I just made stuff up. Points to anyone who catches the subtle reference hidden in here!
Beta by phoenixfire_lia
Something With A Beat
"Techno. I need something with a beat."
"This has nothing to do, of course, with Carapax the Indestructible Man sneaking up behind you in that club."
"Did I say peanut gallery commentary, Spooky? No, I said a beat."
Jon taps his foot impatiently, cowl contrasting oddly with sweatpants and bare chest.
"I anticipate needs and provide as I see fit," is all Spooky says before a club mix begins playing through his comm.
"Louder."
The volume jerks upward and momentarily makes him wince. He knows any damage to his eardrums will probably be fixed before he's even done, provided he gets through the exercise uninjured, but the pounding beat still makes his head throb.
"Start it up," he says, louder than necessary because he can't hear his own voice.
He misses the initial whir of machinery, but not the flash of metal to his left. It's just a ball on a string and he ducks, high-pitched German singing and a growling electric guitar blocking the whoosh of air as it passes overhead.
It's a warning. The only one he gets. Then his world is a blur of flailing metal: rounded, spiked, and all moving almost too fast for his eyes to track. The tempo of the music speeds up to match his movements, and Spooky's too good for it to be just a coincidence.
He can smell machine grease all over, and when his hand slips as he's leapfrogging over an oncoming cylinder, he realizes a new obstacle has been added.
Spooky greased the course.
Adrenaline racing, Jon bares his teeth in a grin. He falls to his back under a swinging spike and shoves himself back to his feet in time to flip over another spike emerging from the floor. His heart is pounding as fast as the music Spooky's feeding him and his traction is all but shot from the grease now coating his hands and feet.
He feels alive.
Using the lack of friction to his advantage, Jon slides under a metal arm that makes a grab for him. There's a padded section on the underside and he jabs it with a heel. He can't hear the jingling beep from it, but he can see the flash of a red light inside the padding. One point.
He comes up spinning on one foot, fist shooting out to hit another padded section on the un-spiked side of something that looks like a giant meat tenderizer. Another unheard beep and flash of red light. Then something hits his shoulder and he's rolling with the hit, the beat of the music going discordant and throwing him off for a second. The pain isn't sharp enough to indicate blood, but he'll feel it until the nanites can deal with it. Which means either not using that arm or sucking it up and working through the pain.
Jon slams an elbow down on the padded sensor on top of the offending tentacle, just to be contrary. It jars his shoulder painfully but he just grits his teeth and whirls to face the next obstacle as an electronic whine weaves its way around the beat.
"Deaf or blind?"
"Deaf, for a given value."
"Ah, club crap?"
Spooky glances over his shoulder at his blond cousin and quirks an eyebrow. "Such as was playing when Jonathan was nearly handed a defeat on Friday night? Daniel, what ever would lead you to such a conclusion?"
With a snort, Danny leans over him to watch Jon on the monitor. "That's the arm he just hurt, isn't it?"
"Would he use any other?"
"I'm beginning to wonder if my brother's a masochist."
"It took you this long?"
Danny shoves Spooky's shoulder and sticks his tongue out at the AI. "Throw some polka in there, really throw him off."
"You suggest that as if you don't think him perfectly capable of inventing his very own polka-based martial arts system."
"Eris's split-ends, he would, wouldn't he?" Danny groans softly.
"We are speaking of the same Jonathan Indivar Carter-Kord, yes?"
Staring at his brother on the monitor, Danny quietly mutters, "Might be worth it just to see him try to make accordion music look hardcore."
"Clearly you have never heard the song stylings of one 'Weird' Al Yankovic," Spooky replies. "You are hideously deprived, you poor, pathetic meat thing."
Danny snickers. "Nerd."
"He is. Of the finest degree."
Rolling his eyes at his cousin's deliberate misunderstanding, Danny sighs and shakes his head as he watches Jon. "Ten bucks says he runs the blind course without taking a break to let his shoulder heal."
"Daniel, a brain-damaged chimp wouldn't take that bet."
In the training room, Jon hits the final padded sensor and adopts a loose defensive pose as he watches the various threats power down. When he speaks, his voice is far louder than it needs to be. "Spooky, turn off the music, I'm going to train blind now."
Blue eyes meet compound gold. Spooky's silver hands fly over the control panel, though he could initiate the commands mentally. He sometimes does things physically for the visual benefit of the humans around him, though Spooky alone knows when or why that will be.
They can hear Jon issue a voice command to his goggles, "Blackout lenses, auth Beet-four-kilo-hotel-alpha-juliet-india-delta-alpha."
"I don't know how, but somehow he did that just to prove me right," Danny mutters as Spooky starts up the course.
"I would wager ten dollars his ears are still ringing," Spooky replies.
Danny smirks. "Spooky, a brain-damaged chimp wouldn't take that bet."
-----
Fandom: Mullet-verse
Characters: Jon and Danny Carter-Kord, Spooky Smith
Word Count: 922
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Jon beats stuff up while listening to music. Best. Description. EVAR! *headdesk* This is what happens when I listen to certain music. Did I have any in particular in mind while writing this? No. I just made stuff up. Points to anyone who catches the subtle reference hidden in here!
Beta by phoenixfire_lia
Something With A Beat
"Techno. I need something with a beat."
"This has nothing to do, of course, with Carapax the Indestructible Man sneaking up behind you in that club."
"Did I say peanut gallery commentary, Spooky? No, I said a beat."
Jon taps his foot impatiently, cowl contrasting oddly with sweatpants and bare chest.
"I anticipate needs and provide as I see fit," is all Spooky says before a club mix begins playing through his comm.
"Louder."
The volume jerks upward and momentarily makes him wince. He knows any damage to his eardrums will probably be fixed before he's even done, provided he gets through the exercise uninjured, but the pounding beat still makes his head throb.
"Start it up," he says, louder than necessary because he can't hear his own voice.
He misses the initial whir of machinery, but not the flash of metal to his left. It's just a ball on a string and he ducks, high-pitched German singing and a growling electric guitar blocking the whoosh of air as it passes overhead.
It's a warning. The only one he gets. Then his world is a blur of flailing metal: rounded, spiked, and all moving almost too fast for his eyes to track. The tempo of the music speeds up to match his movements, and Spooky's too good for it to be just a coincidence.
He can smell machine grease all over, and when his hand slips as he's leapfrogging over an oncoming cylinder, he realizes a new obstacle has been added.
Spooky greased the course.
Adrenaline racing, Jon bares his teeth in a grin. He falls to his back under a swinging spike and shoves himself back to his feet in time to flip over another spike emerging from the floor. His heart is pounding as fast as the music Spooky's feeding him and his traction is all but shot from the grease now coating his hands and feet.
He feels alive.
Using the lack of friction to his advantage, Jon slides under a metal arm that makes a grab for him. There's a padded section on the underside and he jabs it with a heel. He can't hear the jingling beep from it, but he can see the flash of a red light inside the padding. One point.
He comes up spinning on one foot, fist shooting out to hit another padded section on the un-spiked side of something that looks like a giant meat tenderizer. Another unheard beep and flash of red light. Then something hits his shoulder and he's rolling with the hit, the beat of the music going discordant and throwing him off for a second. The pain isn't sharp enough to indicate blood, but he'll feel it until the nanites can deal with it. Which means either not using that arm or sucking it up and working through the pain.
Jon slams an elbow down on the padded sensor on top of the offending tentacle, just to be contrary. It jars his shoulder painfully but he just grits his teeth and whirls to face the next obstacle as an electronic whine weaves its way around the beat.
"Deaf or blind?"
"Deaf, for a given value."
"Ah, club crap?"
Spooky glances over his shoulder at his blond cousin and quirks an eyebrow. "Such as was playing when Jonathan was nearly handed a defeat on Friday night? Daniel, what ever would lead you to such a conclusion?"
With a snort, Danny leans over him to watch Jon on the monitor. "That's the arm he just hurt, isn't it?"
"Would he use any other?"
"I'm beginning to wonder if my brother's a masochist."
"It took you this long?"
Danny shoves Spooky's shoulder and sticks his tongue out at the AI. "Throw some polka in there, really throw him off."
"You suggest that as if you don't think him perfectly capable of inventing his very own polka-based martial arts system."
"Eris's split-ends, he would, wouldn't he?" Danny groans softly.
"We are speaking of the same Jonathan Indivar Carter-Kord, yes?"
Staring at his brother on the monitor, Danny quietly mutters, "Might be worth it just to see him try to make accordion music look hardcore."
"Clearly you have never heard the song stylings of one 'Weird' Al Yankovic," Spooky replies. "You are hideously deprived, you poor, pathetic meat thing."
Danny snickers. "Nerd."
"He is. Of the finest degree."
Rolling his eyes at his cousin's deliberate misunderstanding, Danny sighs and shakes his head as he watches Jon. "Ten bucks says he runs the blind course without taking a break to let his shoulder heal."
"Daniel, a brain-damaged chimp wouldn't take that bet."
In the training room, Jon hits the final padded sensor and adopts a loose defensive pose as he watches the various threats power down. When he speaks, his voice is far louder than it needs to be. "Spooky, turn off the music, I'm going to train blind now."
Blue eyes meet compound gold. Spooky's silver hands fly over the control panel, though he could initiate the commands mentally. He sometimes does things physically for the visual benefit of the humans around him, though Spooky alone knows when or why that will be.
They can hear Jon issue a voice command to his goggles, "Blackout lenses, auth Beet-four-kilo-hotel-alpha-juliet-india-delta-alpha."
"I don't know how, but somehow he did that just to prove me right," Danny mutters as Spooky starts up the course.
"I would wager ten dollars his ears are still ringing," Spooky replies.
Danny smirks. "Spooky, a brain-damaged chimp wouldn't take that bet."
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