Billy Goats Gruff - Settling In

The boys - Kimura’s ‘billy goats gruff’ always packed lightly, because they never knew when the next move would be coming. Admittedly it was less than when they were in their late teens and being sent out every week seemingly, the last hope anyone had before someone like the Hellhounds were called in. Mal had a healthy respect for the Hellhounds, sure, he and his brothers were well trained and may have been genetically tweaked, but the Hounds - they were pure GMO, tank born and raised, trained with virtual imagery and other things he didn’t quite understand. He and his brothers were trained the old-fashioned way - mostly by Kimura. He had a healthy respect for her too, and not just because she was the only child of a literal dragon. Kimura could fight better than anyone he knew, himself and his bros included. Not that they were slouches, but Kimura was smart about it, anticipating moves and countering.

The entire sub-basement was dedicated to training, with vaulted ceilings and plenty of open space. There were huge mats for sparring, and a small firing range - well sound isolated - for practice, it was like a self-contained little micro base.

Everyone was quick to settle in and this had long been a routine for them, moving with practiced ease and unpacked.

The apartment - in Mal’s opinion - was incredible. A huge step up from their room behind the dojo.

Each of them had their own room with windows facing three sides of the building. There were Queen sized beds in each room with a TV that sat flush against a wall. There were two dressers and a desk per room and it still had room to spare.

There was another, much larger television in the shared living room, couches and chairs and a coffee table, plus a huge - but empty - bookcase which, Mal figured, Cain would get the most use of. Beyond the bookcase was a huge eat-in-kitchen, which they’d stock with MRE’s, because those were by far safer than Dogo’s cooking. And best of all was a huge balcony they could step out on to enjoy the night air, or escape quickly in case of attack.

It was always best to be prepared.

Cain was already merely filling the book cases organizing in a way only he seemed to understand.

Dogo was suspiciously looking at his phone while looking through the fridge. “We should do a bit of shopping, you know. Fresh food on occasion might be nice.”

“Who are you texting?” Mal asked, grabbing for the phone. “Our little Dogo find himself a girl?”

“Wait no!!!” Dogo said reaching out to reclaim the phone. He kind of wished at this point it was a girl. Then it would be less embarrassing than the recipe for ‘No star to four star: Elevating MRE’s’.

Cain perked. “Is she cute! I bet she's cute! Tell me she's cute!” He asked zooming over to partake in the gossip.

Mal looked at the phone, then over at Dogo, and made a face. “What’s her name? What’s her ….. Cooking?” He raised an eyebrow. “You can’t cook bruh.”

“I can! It’s just practice.” Dogo said red face trying to reach for his phone.

Cain interjected pushing Dogo via hand to the face. “Are you kidding me? Cooking? The hell is wrong with you!”

“Thinking about your cooking is enough to give a guy food poisoning,” Mal scoffed.

“You're being dramatic! How will I get better without practice!” Dogo said irritated.

“How will we survive? Pretty sure your cooking in is the Geneva Convention and considered a war crime.” Cain snarked.

Mal tossed the phone back to Dogo as his own went off with a message from Kimura. “You guys finish setting up the kitchen,” he said on his way to put on his shoes stored outside their front door. Japanese habits were hard to break. “I have to go find the briefing room. And make sure Dogo doesn’t cook!”

“Where’s the rope!” Cain snapped.

“It’s not that bad guys come on you’re being dramatic!” Dogo griped.

“It’s part of our survival training!” Mal said, padding down the hall to the stairwell.