bakerstreet | ( picture prompt meme )

[ The question of whether or not Venom would like to be thoroughly outdone by Legolas spurs a silent laugh into an obstinate breeze. ]

You're really looking for me to feed your ego today.

[ Which isn't a no, which makes it closer to a a yes. This isn't the first time that Venom has been in the company of someone who could outshoot him on a bad day— take Ocelot, as the nearest example— but they've all been somewhat courteous about it. Or patronizing, depending on the angle one prefers to look at it from.

Venom bypasses the Jeep that could take them to the R&D platform in a matter of minutes; the long bridges connecting strut-to-strut extend like pathways straight into the sky, and Venom prefers to savor the howl of the wind and the rhythm of the waves instead of rushing through them. ]

No one on this base is competition, not for you.

[ Quiet would have been, but Quiet is a wound he's still getting over. ]

[ A pleasing answer, indeed, in spite of the bite to it. It was what laid underneath that brought the joy, after all. ]

Perhaps so, after your cruelty today.

[ Walking on the left side of him, to maintain some form of eye contact, the small touch to Venom's elbow fell on cool metal, slightly warmed from body heat and the Sun and warm air of Seychelles, but it was metal all the same. Smooth and alien, still something of a surprise every time his attention was drawn to it. First that it was there at all, and second how well Venom managed with it.

Either way, Legolas did not draw his hand back, though his gaze flicked down briefly. Instead, he let it trail up a little higher, over the edge of the prosthetic arm, to give Venom's bicep a friendly squeeze over the uniform. ]

Or perhaps because none of the others are ever willing. [ Everyone preferred to just watch him shoot, rather than shoot with him. They were not unkind about it, and Legolas himself was smiling as he spoke, but he still had to voice a playful complaint. ] Am I such a poor sport?

[ Truth was, he wasn't, but few ever were willing to get into something they knew they would lose. ]

In return, however, I will offer you my own competition, such as it may be, in a task of your choice. Would that not be fair?

[ Contact to his artifice is a sensation that still takes some getting used to. The feeling of Legolas's fingers around metal is less one of touch but of pressure, a sway of nerves that registers as something secondhand— like a rifle strapped to his back, or a grenade at his hip. His attention flickers to his companion, questioning, when he feels the added weight on gaudy metal, but relaxes as he realizes that the gesture is one of camaraderie as opposed to utility or concern.

He shortens the gap between them just a millimeter, shoulders nearly brushing as they traverse a stretch of sun-warmed platform. ]

Something about your shooting makes the others want to watch. Not every day we find crack shots with a bow and arrow.

[ That's a two-in-one compliment for both Legolas and his Diamond Dogs. You're both exceedingly good sports, is the sentiment; one delivered with a tinge of paternal fondness.

(One wonders why they chose a soulful medic to fill the role of a man with a hollow soul, really.)

At the suggestion of a competition they can play on his own terms, Venom hums in mild contemplation. ]

I'll think about it.

[ He could be cruel and offer a fast-eating contest, but that would earn Kaz's ire for wasting resources, no doubt. ]

[ It was those little things that always made Legolas so comfortable in Venom's company. The understanding that didn't need words, to keep a distance, or to come a little closer, to touch, to almost-touch, to not crowd at all. Few understood the language of the body so well, or the subtle langue of small gestures.

The compliment pleased him, genuinely so, with no mirth or teasing. It showed in the small quirk of the corners of his lips, a smile that did not sharpen around the edges.

Truthfully, though, Legolas had not a single clue what sort of competition Venom would suggest him. Already as he suggested it, he was interested in what it would be and simply doing it, but now with the evasive answer and the thought haunting him all of a sudden, the interest grew tenfold. Legolas glanced over to Venom, eyes narrowed in thought. As if with mere look alone he could glean the thoughts that lurked behind his eye—

He probably could, if he tried, but he never did. ]

My dear friend, you are a master of inciting interest! [ Or was his so easy to pique, with this insatiable curiosity still in full force even at his age? ] What if those ponderings distract me from my shooting?

[ They wouldn't, but who would he be if he did not give Venom shit over such noncommittal answer? ]

[ The thing about being in Legolas's company is that it's potently difficult to remain humorless for too long. Trust Venom when he says that maintaining professionalism around the elf is a struggle.

Keeping his gaze fixed straight into the seam that the ocean makes with the sky, the austere soldier tries, valiantly, not to laugh. ]

If that's enough to break your focus, I'm gonna have to reconsider bringing you out onto the field.

[ Spoilsport.

But, no— there's a twinkle in that single fog-blue eye, and he fills in the gap between his Savage Reply and his subsequent negotiation with a low hum. A rumble, like gentle thunder. ]

—What are you bad at.

[ Not even quite a question, in the way that the statement lacks the proper inflection when it's delivered. It leans more towards idle admiration, being that he can't imagine Legolas fumbling with... well, anything, really. ]

[ This time Legolas did not bother with continuing the theatrics, knowing full well when to stop to not drive right over certain lines that made things turn from funny to obnoxious. He simply chuckled at the joke, because that was all it was, and met Venom's eye with mirth and, more deeply, with trust, and loyalty and a myriad of other things, some unnamed, some still obscured. All of them, however, positive.

It got him wondering too, that non-question. Over the many years of his life he had learned to do many things, and if he didn't excel at them, then he was at least passable. And then there were things he was poor at, when compared to the other elves. With humans, there was even fewer of them. ]

I have only the rudimentary knowledge of technology. [ He offered, tipping his head sideways. Genuinely helpful. ] I do not know how it is at all that this— [ He spun, speaking, to walk backwards towards their destination and face Venom fully. His fingers once more found his elbow, but this time instead of up, they trailed down. ] —moves the way you wish it to.

[ There was no mirth now, just warmth in that smile, as he drew up Venom's metal arm. His fingers and hand bumped into the wrist, nudging lightly the palm to open and the fingers to spread, to match the splay of his own. ]

And yet, gladdened I am it does what it does.

[ Sometimes Venom catches that other in Legolas's eyes, but he doesn't rush to attribute a name to the missing number. Time is only afforded to Venom in increments, fleeting pockets of solace the burn away as quickly as they're presented— shared moments are priceless, and emotions offered never required a label for them to feel important.

(sometimes it feels... incongruous, that he cares so much at all. but that's ridiculous, isn't it?)

Matching his namesake, Venom lightly snakes his fingers around Legolas's for a brief moment, gently constricting before letting his companion do what he will with the point of contact. ]

Wouldn't worry. [ Venom replies with a lightness that speaks to how he's come to terms with his 9 years of stasis. ] I don't, either.

[ That moment when cassette players are top-of-the-line technology... and yet, iDroids also exist??? All you can do is roll with the punches. ]

Looks like I can beat you at driving, then. [ Back to the topic of competitions for a moment.

Venom tries not to look too pleased. ]

[ It was a sweet gesture that Legolas returned gladly, his fingers comfortable in between the spaces of the metal digits, even knowing that Venom would not feel it. Not on this hand, anyway, but perhaps he would see it and the intent would be enough to convey the sensation or invoke the memory of such— Or perhaps he should not discriminate at all! (Only that was not it, at all.) And with as a second thought, as he let their linked hands drop and separate again, he lifted his other hand in air and wiggled the fingers. A playful, silent encouragement along with the matching grin that spoke volumes about what he wanted. He thought, hoped rather, the meaning was obvious enough.

Soon enough, though, laughter followed. Driving. Ha, indeed! Legolas might have got a driving licence once upon a time, but it didn't see much use. Cars were loud and smelled terribly, much like so many things in the contemporary world. And so he didn't like to drive very much, and what he didn't like, he tended to do poorly with. ]

The chances are very high, but let us not pass judgement before we test it!

[ Even though Legolas knew what the outcome of that would be, already. Still, what fun would there be in admitting that and not going through with it? ]

I will not offer you the insult of forfeiting before we even begin, as you indulge me.

[ Oh. Well. What passes as straightforward for Legolas seems to have been a blind spot for Venom— he blinks, bemused, before lowering his shoulders to blow a faint sigh into the wind.

And they say that Big Boss is undefeatable. ]

Never mind. Can't run the risk of watching you drive off the platform.

[ That kind of blood is one that he doesn't want on his hands, thank you very much. For Legolas's little show of insubordination, Venom takes that clever hand with its fluttering fingers and catches it by the wrist. For a fleeting second, it's almost as if he'll move to press his scarred lips against those fingertips—

—before he lets go and makes his way onto the deck of the R&D platform proper. ]

I'll think of something else.

[ For the first time in the course of their conversation disappointment crept up into Legolas's expression. A flash of surprise, a flicker of sadness that— indeed, why exactly? Was it because the challenge or because the gesture would not or did not come to fruition? Or perhaps it was a little bit of both. All the same, he didn't let it linger very long, smiling again as he turned on his heel to follow after Venom into R&D. ]

I assure you that would not happen— but neither do I wish to be the cause for grey hair for you. [ Time and age did not need his help. In fact, Legolas would rather deny them their power over his mortals, than aid them. ] Surely, we will find something fitting and safe in time.

[ But that was it for that line of conversation, and Legolas simply made a note in his mind to think longer and more thoroughly on all the things he was not very good at. As much as it was a jest, it would be something lighthearted and fun, perhaps help take Venom's mind off of all that was going on around them. And lift that weight off his shoulders, if only for a little while.

That was for the future days, and Legolas knew other ways to hopefully achieve that, for now— a scientist approached them, quite clearly excited that Legolas had come to test his baby, as he called it. He went on for a while about the ins and outs of this new rifle, and the reasons why Legolas would surely love it. This time. They could not say it handled like a bow, as no rifle ever could, but it was as close as they could get to something that could replace his usual weapon of choice.

Why were they always so insistent on upgrading it, however, that Legolas still didn't quite understand. Alas! He listened politely and nodded his head at the end, shooting Venom a sly glance. ]

Let us try it, then!

[ Raging Octopus is a very ambitious person, don't you know. One of those eccentrics that look for any excuse for someone capable to bring out the best in his so-called children: his is a very big family, and he keeps looking to expand... much to the Subcommander's chagrin.

(Does he know how much GMP goes into making one of those rifles??? What if Legolas refused to use it??)

Venom is find with his staff's enthusiasm, of course. To an extent, he shares it— that itch to test out an untouched trigger while the body of his new weapon is still unmarred by the elements. If anything, Venom is likely the more eager of the two, and steps towards the direction of the firing range with a curious lightness to his heels.

(Sometimes the boy never leaves the soldier, no matter how old he gets.) ]

You still remember how to fire a gun?

[ Facetiously. Legolas may prefer not to use a firearm, but Venom is more than aware that the elf is still lethal with one.

The practice grounds are empty, lined with monochrome imitations of victims. Ready to be put down for the sake of R&D. ]

[ Legolas didn't answer, at least, not with words. He took the offered rifle, he took ample amount of munitions, strapping a few magazines to the belts at his hip and across his chest. One of them was loaded to the rifle with a very telling click— he followed Venom to the practise grounds. A single, although long, look sent his way, as he passed right by him.

It was a familiar motion, even though it was the bow he had been using recently, to lift the weapon to his shoulder, to take aim — reflex sight, Raging Octopus knew better by now than to try and install optical sights on any weapon offered to the sole elf on the base — and to shoot. It was distinctly quieter than any previous one he used, though it still had the most powerful kick back. But it was light, it handled well, and he found it easy to switch to the next target and the next.

Five bullets, five shells falling at his feet, and five targets down with holes smack dab in the middle of their flat heads. ]

Does that answer your question? [ He grinned, cheeky. But he was hardly done, especially with the promise of a bit of competition from Venom. ] Lay down the rules, whatever challenge you wish to set before me— before us.

[ A low whistle, as Legolas makes 5 neat killshots in under 5 seconds. Not something lightly done, and not something that's usually accomplished with such poise; the R&D member watching from beyond frosted glass throws his fist in the air with unbridled joy. ]

First to 150, then.

[ A flip of a switch, and mechanisms grind to replace broken targets with new versions. The conveyors around them whir to life, shifting paper enemies in irregular rhythms from side to side, top to bottom— a morbid dance of would-be victims who jerk along metal railings like poorly-rendered animatronics. ]

Headshots are 10 each, 5 points for anything else.

[ This would be a rigorous competition for anyone but them, really. Venom harbors no illusions about the outcome of this friendly 'spar' (Legolas would be able to hit 300 long before he hits two-thirds of that number), but his ego isn't so fragile that he'll back down from something that he can ultimately benefit from. ]

What's your asking price, if you win.

[ He's offering a favor, Legolas. Choose one wisely. ]

[ Legolas had to admit one thing: it was a fine weapon, and in fact, he found it quicker than his bow, which was a very important advantage in its favour. The magazine held no more bullets, than he could hold arrows in one hand while shooting, and it was most certainly more comfortable and simply... easier. In his mind, he was already weighing the pros and cons of switching to this weapon— but maybe the decision would come on a field test. Next mission, this would be his weapon of choice. It was one thing to shoot at targets, even moving ones, on the practise grounds, it was something else to take it against live enemies. They were less predictable, and distances could be greater.

Listening to Venom speak, he swapped the magazine with surprisingly well practised motions—

One hundred fifty? And ten points for a headshot. Then these three mags, five bullets each, he had on him should suffice. A boastful thought, but he did not give voice to it, only grinned and let himself be lost in thought for a couple of seconds.

How often was it that he could get Venom to do just about anything he wished? Not nearly often enough. So he thought long and hard, not even the noise of the moving targets distracting him from this task. ]

One evening. [ He lifted his free hand in the air, index up. ] Those rare days when there is no place or person who needs our attention. I want your evening on one of those.

[ A strange request? Perhaps. One that would certainly benefit both of them at that. ]

[ In some distant future, Venom will most likely face a lifetime of scrutiny and disapproval from a certain other elf for making his son hold a firearm and— god forbid— contemplate using it on a semi-regular basis, but that's then and this is now. Life is difficult when your patron-turned-combat-buddy-turned-comrade-turned-(something) used to live in circumstances so far removed from your current predicament.

(Then again, Venom isn't one to talk.)

So he focuses on the present, and the perhaps not-so-distant future. ]

You'll get plenty of those on the field. [ An unforgiving Afghan evening, huddled in a bunker under starlight that's undisturbed by artificial illumination. In those hours, 'Venom Snake' becomes irrelevant: the white noise of his radio and the distant sound of wild animals are the only things that require his attention.

But he also knows that Legolas isn't talking about being dead to the world, so he narrows his eyes in vague softness before hefting his gun and facing his targets with quiet gravitas. ]

Fine. An evening on base.

[ Those evenings, out in the field, Legolas would take too, when they came. But there was a difference still, between the times when they could truly be at ease and feel safe, most of all, and comfortable, and those evenings when they awaited the continuation of their mission, that right moment to enter the fray or to leave it, or took a rest after a harsh day of tracking and hunting enemies. Besides that, here he could prepare better than out in the field— food and drink, that was. ]

I will take those when they come as well, I do not think you can take them away from me. [ He took position too, but still sent Venom a playful glance. ] I can promise you one thing, at least, you will enjoy it!

[ That said, he called out to another member of R&D that came by to watch the little display. Besides the one who presented him with the rifle, there were already a few more among their audience, and Legolas couldn't blame them, but he didn't mind either. ]

Count down to when we shall begin! [ And to all of them, he added with a grin that could easily outshine the sun itself. So confident, and in this confidence, very much looking forward to his reward. ] And all of you, keep track of the score!

[ Then, he turned to Venom again— ]

Are you ready?

[ A small gallery to watch their Boss get pummeled... Venom has to take his punches somewhere, after all. He doesn't think much of it either way, and silences the rabble with a palm before moving on.

With his rifle at the ready, he starts all of them off. ]

3... 2...

[ 'One' is counted emphatically by the rest of the Diamond Dogs, who lets their Boss disengage from counting and dive right into the task at hand. The first of the targets to fall is the one closest to Legolas's position, picked off in an audacious challenge as if to say you won't win that easily.

But the taunting ends there, because he isn't afforded the time to calculate his shots before he delivers them. He could try to be petty and snipe at Legolas's trajectory if he wanted to, but that would end with him being considerably behind in points by the end of this gunslinging adventure— ten seconds into the game and he's already lagging, three headshots down after three consecutive bullets to paper torsos.

(To his credit, those wounds would be fatal in a real combat situation.) ]

[ The ribbing was perfectly well received, with a quirk of the mouth and a playfully indignant huff of air, though Legolas did not look over this time. Not just yet. He kept his eyes focused on the targets before him. As much as this was just a game, and he wouldn't mind to lose, he still wanted to give it his very best. Venom deserved nothing less, after all.

If said very best was also picking the most difficult of targets, as a jab right back at Venom, well... so be it!

One magazine, another, then the third. At their feet, a rain of emptied shells. It was those two seconds longer than it could have been, had he gone for the most obvious targets, but he was done while Venom was still shooting his last targets to build up to the count of 150 points. Slower than Legolas himself, true enough, but no less impressive. Few could compete with an elf, after all, even fewer would not fail to an embarrassing degree. Venom was among those of the latter group, and once all shooting ceased, Legolas was smiling with warmth, looking between their targets, so many of them shredded, and Venom himself. ]

You are a worthy opponent, regardless of your loss today. [ No mocking, he did mean it. ] You could impress many an elf, perhaps even beat some in such a competition.

[ Venom knows how to take his losses with grace: little does he know that that's the entire principle of his existence. He steps back and regards his work with a critical eye, taking note of where he could improve while acknowledging that he didn't do half as badly as he could have.

It's only once he comes to his own conclusions that he moves to accept Legolas's compliment, taking it with a grain of salt (there are things about elves— namely, their abilities— that he fancies he'll never quite grasp) while conceding with a palm to his companion's shoulder. ]

I'll stick to spotting for you instead.

[ As if Legolas needs a spotter, either (he doesn't). Competition is fine, but they're also a waste of bullets, and one knows all too well how the aviators-clad XO of Mother Base feels about leeching GMP.

He breathes a short laugh, and gestures for the members of R&D to start cleaning up. ]

Looks like you don't need too much practice with your new gun. I'll have Ocelot pencil you into the next mission.

[ Needless to say, Legolas was glad for the admission, for the confirmation that the next mission would be his. Or rather, theirs. It tickled him pink every time his abilities were appreciated, no matter how unshakeable was his confidence. And this was the boastful sort of enjoyment, but the humble kind, a duck of a head, a smile. All the thanks that he knew was necessary.

The weight of Venom's hand on his shoulder, a welcome one. ]

Or trusting me to watch over you...

[ It wasn't even a question, but a statement with a hopeful edge to it. His gaze lingered, lips parted with half a smile, before he turned to make space for the R&D to start on their task. The rifle was his, now, he knew well enough. He knew he could take it, and that he had to care for it. So tonight he would spend learning it, to take it apart and to put it back together, to clean it and prepare it for the upcoming mission. ]

So you may do your work in peace and safety.

[ That was rather the point, wasn't it, of taking him or DD along. To make sure the missions were a lot easier, for everyone involved. ]

[ He looks over his shoulder from where he'd already strayed close to the outskirts of R&D, lit from the front by the sun that's starting to set beyond the expanse of Seychelles sea. The light bathes him in orange-red, not quite ominous but reminiscent of the state he always comes back to Mother Base in: bloodied, dust-torn.

Regardless, his softened expression lingers. ]

Neither of those are on the battlefield.

[ He'd had 'peace' and 'quiet' by him on occasion, but the latter is gone and the former is drowned in 15 cups of coffee by now, lost in ledgers (Venom worries about him, about that backwards peace).

But the sentiment is understood, and he turns fully now, his expression obscured by the strong backlight. A false Messiah. ]

But I trust you to watch my back. [ Unwavering; he has faith in spades. ] Always have.

Here, lmk if it works!

( picture prompt meme )

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hope this is okay...!

it's absolutely perfect ♥

♥ ... and also sorry about that premature notif... sob

DON'T WORRY AT ALL i've done so much worse, trust me...

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EMERGES FROM THE NO INTERNET ABYSS

webee!

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