Sandstorm {Discontinued}{Rewritten}

16. A Mission for Sand and Puns

Deserey and Ray had calmed down by the time they had gotten back to the ship, fortunately for their three companions. Rip had also called the rest of the team back to the ship to regroup while Gideon analysed the goop from the meteorite the five had found, which allowed the hyper duo a bit more time to recollect themselves.

It wasn't long before the five of them could hear Sara, Jax, and Stein returning. The trio seemed to be in the midst of a disagreement, as they entered the bridge.

"Seeing white picket fences and perfect houses," Stein was saying, "it's enough to make one nostalgic." He was dressed in a fancy tailored suit, along with a black neck tie and a name tag tangling from his shirt collar. His hair was neatly combed, unlike any other time before. (At least there was one good thing about the fifties, right? It got the professor to comb his unruly grey hair.)

"Or nauseated," Sara scoffed. She leaned on the back of one of the chairs. The assassin's blond hair was pinned up in one of those old nurses hats, the kind that were a little more square than normal hats. Her white nurses gown was a little too snug in some places and a bit too short in other places. It looked more like a slutty Halloween costume than a proper uniform. (The sort that Deserey would never let her daughter wear in a million years.) When the skirt rose up, Sara scowled and tugged it down again. She didn't strike Deserey as the conservative type when it came to clothing, but Dez guessed it must have been pretty irritating to work with that small ass thing.

"Oh come on, Miss Lance," Stein said, folding his arms. "Even someone as jaded as yourself can't deny how idyllic this time is."

Jax made a face, as he took a seat in the chair Sara was leaning on. He was dressed in more casual clothing, but Deserey still thought the outfit was pretty ugly. White slacks, holy jeans, a very, very loud and orange shirt. "Yeah," he muttered, "if you're white."

Deserey nodded in agreement, but she didn't say anything. She figured it was best for everyone if she stayed out of conversations like these. Every time she engaged in something like this she went flying off the handle in a red hot rage. (Vaguely, she wondered who could throw worse temper tantrums. Her or Heatwave?) Curses would be sworn. F bombs would be dropped. Asses would be kicked. Nothing angered her more than discrimination and ignorant morons. She hated mistreatment. Not even just towards minorities like herself, Sara, and Jax. Towards anyone. (Why were they called minorities anyway? Were they really that less than? Maybe Deserey but Jax and Sara?) It wasn't right. Wasn't fair. And no one seemed to give a damn about it. Why couldn't people just be people and be left alone?

Feeling her blood boil at the mere thought, Deserey mentally smacked the mosquito that was her depression away. She had only just gotten out of her bad mood from the night before. She didn't need to go falling in again. Not just now anyway. Not with everyone standing here.

Today is a good day, she reminded herself. Today is a good day.

It was something she had learned to do over the years from one of the many therapists she had gone to see. Something about chanting positive things to yourself was suppose to help. Trick your brain into thinking your in a good mood or something. It didn't always help, but sometimes Deserey found herself trying anyway.

"And straight," Sara added. "And male. And --"

Deserey groaned inwardly. She wished that they would just shut up about it already. The 1950s was a terrible place for anyone who didn't fit the mold society had created for them. That's the way it had always been and always would be through out history. End of story. Did it really need a discussion? There was no point in bitching and moaning about all the thing that were wrong in the world, because they would never ever change. (Deserey knew that sounded pretty hypocritical, considering she spent a great deal of her time whining about her problems, but she didn't really care at the moment.)