InsaneJournal

"What? Was there a woodchuck under there? I swear I ran over a woodchuck!"
Who: Shepard and Scotty
What: Fixing a car, and worries about what one could do with a particle accelerator and a rocket.
When: Today!
Status: Complete!
Rating: PG-13!




Tyra drove up to the garage, parking and coming inside, "Hello? I'm back..what the hell?" She found herself staring at a midget submarine and a large missile casing. That was new. She walked over to the casing, running her hand over it and peered at some markings. A Russian missile. Didn't appear active, but what was a mechanic doing with a midget submarine and a russian missile? It sounded like a bad joke!

Ballistic missile casing, to be exact. And one very cranky looking engineer with goggles on popped his head out from around the side of the submarine, where he'd been welding a crazy looking mishmash of coiled tubes and the sorts of things one sees in mad scientist looking movies. Nevermind the big computer behind it either. In fact, a whole fat lot of space was being eaten up by that, various large plastic containers full of wiring and components that were labeled 'control panel 3' and other strange things.

And the owner of the establishment looked like he was nursing a massive hangover, because even his Scottish butt went overboard with the drinking last night, when he'd decided to go to Pinkie's show without the girlfriend, all on his own. Someone had way too many. Screw a few too many, it was way too many. He swore that he'd pulled himself up the steps to his flat, with his lips.

"Oh, right. It's you. Woman who shouldnae have a license. Run over any medians lately?" He pushed the goggles up onto his forehead, with an indignant huff of an exhale. How he was going to do a fix it job in there was going to get very interesting. "Ye never stopped by again, sae I didnae order spare parts. Lazy arse."

Tyra made a mental note to have Vakarian check his databases. This man was either building a WMD or a space ship. He did look like a mad scientist though. Out of those black and white sci-fi movies from the 60s.

And he looked about how she felt - she was nursing her own hangover, that had resulted in watching tv with her bro and a hooker.

"A few things came up." She scratched the back of her head, and jumped straight to the point, "Tell me you're building a submarine or tree house so I don't have to call in my Fed buddies? Because you're an ass who shits words out his mouth but you seem like a nice guy otherwise."

"Fuck the feds, this is for a space mission tae win prize money. If ye think otherwise, you can kiss me pearly white Scottish arse," he snapped, quite sourly, and kicked a container out of his way as he rounded the corner of the sub. "And I'm not nice. I'm a complete pure unfiltered bastard. Now, dae ye have the rattle still, or what?"

"Rattle is less," She replied, folding her arms. A space ship? Okay! "But its still there. It stopped making the squealing sound though."

She walked around the rocket, inspecting it, "This is pretty good shape. You're really going into space?"

"Yeah but I dinnae need that advised. Sae keep yer bloody mouth shut, would you? Could use the money. Would rather keep the competition down tae a minimum." He grabbed some things and marched past to head outside and look-see at what the problem was. If anything, he could try to pull a miracle out of his ass and get it patched up as best as possible. "I'll take a look at this, but no guarantees. There's not much room in there for a proper fix it, until I get that mess sorted. And I'm utterly entirely serious when I say ye cannae hit any more medians. Ye understand that, lass? Nae more!"

"There's bad shit out there," Tyra muttered. What it was, she didn't know. She just knew. She followed him, "No more medians. Marine's honor." She put her hand on her heart, "Unless its a median or a baby carriage, then I'm going to have to break that promise."

Don't laugh, that almost happened to her mun!

"Deal, because I may not have wee bairns like that, meself, but I can at least agree they dinnae need tae be run over." He disappeared under the vehicle and there was at least one 'bloody hell' and other colorful phrases and words being uttered. "...mangled mess, this is!"

The good news was it might be a huge mess but he was going to get around it without having to order the parts. Or try to. Haphazard fix it job in progress, and it was NOISY.

Tyra could live with that. She'd seen worse patch-it jobs in the field, and perversely, she trusted a patch-it job over most other types of jobs. Because a haphazard fix job had to work, or else.

She left him to his work, studying his other work - though keeping a respectful distance. This was his domain. And nothing looked particularly dangerous, as far as dangerous things went.

...Was that a particle accelerator? "What kind of propulsion system are you working on?"

"The kind that takes people intae space, an' runs on I dinnae know yet," was the snappy response and this might require some creative tiny spot weld fixes as tiny touch ups on the frame and he's banging away and things are getting loud and scary sounding. It might as well be going over a few medians, what with the racket he's causing. Even so, he was yelling over the racket while he worked, "Ye ask a lot of questions! Ye want tae know if I had a trip tae the loo this morning also?! AYE, I did! Ye happy now! I drank three cups of coffee, with enough whisky in them tae drop a bloody cow dead! I STILL feel like total complete fuckered ARSE!"

"Well, good luck then." An eccentric inventor then. A brilliant one with a minuature particle accelerator. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Do they even issue LICENSES for that sort of thing?

"Call it curiosity, for all I know you're a fucking terrorist!" She laughed, "You too huh? I woke up in bed with my best friend and a hooker."


The laugh turned into a groan, "God help my mouth lately."

He just about came out from under there entirely. In fact, it was a wonder he got his body to bend that way, so he could glare at her from underneath and give her a proper talking to.

"Get aff! I'm nae fucking terrorist! I'm Scottish! We're not terrorists but we are capable of kicking a few arses if we're insulted enough! Though in yer case it'll be with a few fine words, for certain! I dinnae hit lasses, nae matter what!" And there goes the hand and yes, the rude gesture, because he can apparently do that too. "I also didnae ask if about yer best friend and any hookers, ye know?! Ye can keep that tae yerself! I dinnae care, ye filthy machine abuser! This poor lass is goin' tae be on her last legs if ye arenae careful!"

He scooted back underneath and the noises were becoming truly worrying and horrendous sounding, even as he grumbled to himself darkly, Och, I have nae stop gap between me brain in me mouth anymore."

Tyra rolled her eyes. She found she liked his attitude, "Its not like you seem able to control the filer between your mouth and your brain."

She plopped down on a bench and stretched out her legs, "IF you're not a terrorist, I swear to god one put something in the water."

"That?! I'd bloody well believe! Ahh...ahhhh? AHHHGH YE WEE BUGGER I GOT YE NOW!" And out from underneath was thrown a signficant chunk of concrete with a bit of reinforced metal tube sticking out of it. Clunk. It laid there, accusingly. Because everyone knows who put it there. Mmmhm. Even when Scotty scooted out, and sat up, he gave her the sort of look, through his googles, that could burn a hole through a mountainside.

It was probably the size of his fist. Or both fists. Put together.

Scotty just keep staring, but then pushed the goggles up so the full scornful effect of it, could be in plain view.

"What? Was there a woodchuck under there? I swear I ran over a woodchuck!" She hopped to her feet and then stared at the concrete, "I have no recollection of hitting that. It must have been after we picked up the hooker."

She peered at it, "That's just...that's huge! And I'll tell you what, I have no experience uttering that sentence at any man."

"Nae, I picked out some fuzzy bit an' flicked it out toward the street, but that there was yer problem. Been lodged up in there. That's yer rattle." He even pointed at it. "Ye've just been wearin' away at it, lucky ye didnae bust an axel." He just shook his head at the rest of what she said, and rolled his eyes a bit. "Ye had a few spots that looked like they were ready tae crack as well, if ye keep it up, sae I've spot welded 'em. Mostly the frame. Should be good now."

He stood up and gave the concrete a sharp, well-aimed kick with a steel-toed workboot, which resulted in the piece scuttling off toward the corner of the building. Deep breath. Ignore the headache. Good. Scotty scratched a finger at his chin, thoughtfull, looking it over. And then shrugging. "Just pay me what ye want, it wasnae that big of an issue, really. Not like ye need replacement parts. Nae more medians, then aye, ye should be fine."

"Damn." She really didn't remember when she'd hit something that big. Maybe a few weeks ago? Either way, it was huge. And again, not something she had experience saying to men.

"I'll take that under advisement."

Maybe driving school was a good idea. She pulled out her wallet, and laid out four-hundred. It seemed fair enough for the time involved, and then a little extra for him putting up with her.

"Aye, well, cheers. Ye didnae need tae pay that much, but every wee bit helps." He stepped aside so she could get in. "Be careful with her. She cannae take much more of that sort of abuse, ye know."

"She was built for it," Tyra protested, weakly. "You're probably right. I'll save the median crossings for emergencies."

"Ye have tae have some respect for her if ye want her tae get ye tae point eh, tae point bee," Scotty was saying, in the sort of speech that he'd probably given several people before. Especially in the future. "If ye dinnae care and respect her, she'll simply fall tae pieces and leave ye in the bloody lurch when ye most need her. I'm done giving you a proper talking at, now. Soooo...be careful."

Tyra tossed him a mock salute, "Yessir." Then she climed into the hummer, and backed out. Flee, run for your life, Shepard is back on the road again! She turned onto the road and accellerated out of sight, with only minimal tire screeching, for once.

Scotty stood there, with one hand planted firmly over his face.