#I take ages to reply to anything substancial

[themechaneer]

Hey all, I just wanted to say again how very much I appreciate you all for being so patient with me ;  ;. I have a number of drafts to reply to and a handful of inbox things both for hc prompts & rp things alike, as well as amazing partners waiting for me to plot out something with them for a starter interaction. I’m lucky I know. I don’t think I could ask to have better friends or writing partners on this site. I need you all to know that my slowness is NOT for lack of enthusiasm or excitement over things regardless if they’ve been plotted out or not. I don’t follow for follow. If I follow you it’s cause I’m interested in knowing your muse and with writing with you, I promise that. 

And I’ve very much been agonizing over how much I want to reply to literally all the things both ooc and ic. The problem the last few weeks has literally been my work schedule. They’ve got me working 4 day shifts rn while I train someone to take over my late co-workers place so I can go back to my old schedule and it’s been rough to say the least. This wekk they’ve actually got me doing a 5.5 day shift and ahaaaa (I’m dying). And the thing is I feel like every night I get on my laptop to try and knock out drafts only to find I have no energy and all I’m really good for is dash stuff or shorter things in people’s inboxes via prompts or one off asks. I am deeply sorry for this and I feel guilty as hell making everyone wait for more substancial writing from me even though I know none of you mind and I shouldnt fret. 

I just----- I hope you all know how much it means to me that you are all willing to wait and don’t mind and how supportive each of you are in your way. How supportive you are not only of me generally but how much you love Joel, and appreciate what little things I can do rn as an rp partner even though I feel it’s the bare minimum and you all deserve better from rp partners. Each of you is such a blessing to me and while things are rough rn if all goes well I should have a break coming up soon where I’ll finally have the time and energy to myself to actually write anf hopefully catch up on things. Till then, thank you all so much for baring with me. You’re all amazing and I love you.

#‟ I am but a sensitive pillar of salt ” || ooc #; ; <3 #don't mind me im just--- soft thinking about how good I got it knowing all of you and #cant believe how damn lucky I got to meet each of you and have you all like Joel/my writing enough to stick around like you do even though #I take ages to reply to anything substancial #ya'll are aces and ilu

[humanscandrivestick]

E.Q.--When Allegro Comes Marching Home

Fleace’s career as a Metal gets off to a good start.

~~~

Metal 187 had been working defection cases for a few years before they were officially sent overseas to Germany to put down a rebellion.  The plane engines hadn't even had time to go cold before Allegro, now codenamed Fleace, led his 5 man team into Vilseck, Germany, and flattened 3 consecutive Metal dance-easies in what may have been considered record time.  The last had been mildly tricky, since the DJs had holed up in the restored Rose Barracks, a former US Army base nearby.  Mildly since the barracks themselves had proved to be a substancial fortification until Double and Jeeves suggested explosives to blow a hole in part of it. He liked this Jeeves, someone he happened to find when busting an easy early in his career.  Double recognized the talent and while processing him after picking the easy up, cut a deal: play for the Corps or prison for 35 to life.   Jeeves' mother, as he put it succinctly, didn't raise a fool.  He took the deal, and quickly showed a ruthless, savage side Fleace took to immediately.  Maybe it was the fact he was now a government sanctioned murderer, but of anyone that Double and Fleace had ever observed in the Metal division, Jeeves adored the job. He picked up Double whom was contemplating retiring active duty to mentor in the second run of Rothbarts.  Already well into his 50s, which was positively ancient for a Metal, and prehistoric for a drummer, Fleace reasoned he was a man who knew what he was doing.  Instead of becoming a mentor to the young man when he joined, Double soon found that he was more like a second in command, as the junior Metal made all the decisions, reckless as they were initially but always successful.   Those first several years, he'd tell Fleace, "You're going to get me killed." "If that were true, you'd be dead by now.  You're Immortal, old boy," he'd reply smugly. The rhythm guitarist and bassist came as a pair, given ridiculous codenames by their original team, and didn't bother changing them.  The bassist spoke little, but was impeccable in his job and play style.  Nothing extravagant, took his leads from his teammates, but that's why Fleace liked him.  Always did what he was told without protest.  The rhythm guitarist was a little more active and receptive.  More of a partier, definitely a drinker, but had an alcohol tolerance that was nearly superhuman.  Fleace liked that too.  Made him chatty. They were flush from excitement after their German tour (except the usually austere bassist, and the now rapidly aging Double), and entered their office.  Wine and beer was broken out.  When Fleace woke the next morning, he wasn't sure what they had or how much, but damn was it worth it.  Jeeves and Google were already gone, and though he declined to partake, his partner had cleaned the office.  He went to change and came back to settle in at the computer before Double came back in for the morning. The bassist returned with a pot of coffee but Fleace shook his head and yawned. "Shit.  Where the fuck does your partner put it all?" he asked. "Dunno," the taciturn bassist replied. He rolled his eyes and glanced up as the guitarist in question entered again. "Hung over, boss?" he asked with a smirk. "The hell you put that all, I swear to Lem." He retorted with a mirrored smirk. "Dude, I'm always drinking, I prolly got Jack Daniels instead of blood." "Fucker." "I heard something from Double." "What's that?" "You ever been to Kenya?" Fleace gave him a look of amused confusion.  "No." "I heard maybe that's the next tour." "What for?" "MC's got problems with a resistance movement.  Like this is civil war big problems." Fleace raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair.  "Hmm.  Someone musta been pretty impressed with Vilseck.  How do you know all this crap?" "You wouldn't believe me if I said."  The rhythm guitarist dropped into his chair and started on his half full bottle of whiskey. "Try me.  I'm hungover and jetlagged as fuck.  I'll believe anything." "Well around 3 when the rest'a you pussies passed out, I went to the mess hall to see if i couldn't weasel another 6 pack.  And there's this old dude drinking by hisself in the kitchen.  Like he's got a bottle of fucking rose and like 3 glasses.  Like he's partying with himself and the spooks for something.  So I ask him if he wants company." "Right.  So some rando wants to have a guy who stumbles over himself and smells like a distillery drink with him." "Hey, I may stink like a moonshine factory, but I'm coherent enough shitfaced, asshat."  He grinned.  This was true.  Somehow no matter how much he drank, he was able to walk a straight line and talk pretty clearly. "So he said yes?  Maybe this guy is creepier than you." "Yeah maybe, but I got my axe still and what the hell, he's got booze.  And we get to talking and tell him what Metal I'm in and stuff.  He seemed impressed with Vilseck and shit.  So he asked who the team lead was and I said it was you.  He seemed to know who you are but he used a different name....uhhhh, whatsit. " "Allegro," Fleace replied, growing slightly irritated with the story detours. "Yeah, that's it.  Dude, Fleace's so much better by the by.  And he says that 187's been doing so well that he knows that there's a huge tour coming up that they need a crack team to pick up.  He says Kenya's where its at." "And how did he know about that?" "Well, he's got an armband, and he's some high rank Classico I think.  So maybe he knew." "Did he have a number?" "Nah, his armband didn't have a number.  But he said his name was Leitmotiv." Fleace and his bassist blinked at him.  That he remembered that was pretty impressive. "Leitmotiv?  Never heard of him."  Fleace shrugged and tossed back a bottle of water on his desk.  "But if he's some Classico without a number and a name like that, maybe he just might know something."  He made a mental note to check in with Sonatina.  "Anyhow, I say fuckit to work.  Take the day off and shove out.  I gotta headache to sleep back off."  Both of his teammates shrugged and left the office, leaving him to think about the information.  Google had the tendency to find a lot of gossip, but his tips and leads were often pretty good.  Its what made their easy busting so easy. There was a knock at the door.  He sighed.  "We're closed.  Come back tomorrow." A voice, smooth like beaten cream, with lilting tones of sweetened levity, came from the other side.  "Ah, forgive me, Allegro.  Perhaps we could have a chat on a different day...?" Curiosity compelled him to get up out of his chair and open the door.  A middle aged man was standing there. His hazel eyes were, in this dim morning light, nearly yellow like citrine gemstones.  He had striking black hair, coiffed neatly and with a sheen that caught the artificial lighting.  He was wearing a long overcoat with silk accents and collar, over an impeccably pressed black suit.  His left arm had a deep emerald green armband has Classico in cursive embroidery, but it lacked a number. He raised a curious eyebrow.  "And who do I have the honor of meeting...?" "Leitmotiv....I spoke with one of your...associates earlier this morning....  Ah...I mean, last night."  He had an easy smile, but one with a slight pull like a magnet.  It made Fleace faintly wary.  Still...curiosity and possibility compelled him to give him a smirk back. "Please...come in."

#E.Q. #E.Q. Fridays #Side B #Album 3 #Fleace #Metal 187