Ellen swirled Cavil’s stiff drink. "Swirled, not stirred …”
Without warning, the dream-vision of Tigh and Socrata fades away—reminding Kara of the time she ate those mushrooms she had bought from that sweaty, fat, and overly hyper fellow who lived in that van down by the river near Caprica City–and in this moment, Starbuck is caught between the visions and her Viper plummeting towards its destruction. Alarms are blaring loudly, and all Kara need do is pull up, but the visions overtake her once more.
Looking around, Kara realizes she is standing in the casino on Cloud 9, as impossible as that seems.
“Frack, I need a drink if I am going to make any sense of this,” mutters Kara looking around. Something cold, hard, and metallic rams into her shoulder, knocking her onto the ground. “Meat bag, watch where you are going,” booms a scratchy, yet synthetic sounding voice above her.
Lying on the floor, Kara rolls over and finds her staring face to face with an original Centurion model, which, despite having an immobile face incapable of showing emotion, is standing there with all the air of a machine that is quite irritated. Inexplicably, a large metal pipe rolls toward Kara, and she grasps hold of it.
In one smooth motion, Kara rolls towards the Centurion, readying a mighty swing at the machine’s face plate. Cold metal fingers grasp her wrist, holding her in place. With only the space of an inch between them now, the mass of scratches and dents upon the Centurion’s face place are now visible to Kara.
“NOT AGAIN,” booms the Centurion. “I mean, honestly, what is it with you meat bags?” Kara could swear she sees the single roving red eye roll in annoyance. “The war is over, and the meat bag totals my ride, and beats me down with a pipe. Now I am stuck in some little meat bag’s dream, and she has the gall to get uppity with ME! Not on my watch sister! You are buying me a drink to make up for all this,” and with that, the Centurion stalks off towards the bar, dragging Kara behind him. “The name is Larry by the way,” Says the Centurion.
Scrambling her feet to keep up with Larry, Kara glances over the strangest sight she has seen yet: a group of Centurions huddled around a table playing cards.
“Darryl, Barry, Bob, and The Dude, how’s it going,” asks Larry.
“The Dude has had too much to drink,” says Darryl, as he points to a centurion that is beginning to spew hydraulic fluid.
“Well, somebody should grab the Heavy Raider, and take him home,” Replies Larry. “Friends don’t let friends drink and drive”
“Sure, are we going to see you at the club later; I hear 8 is going to be doing some naked Tai-Chi,” asks Darryl.
Sounding cheerful for the first time since Kara met him, Larry responds: “You know it!”
As they continue trudging towards the bar, Larry begins ranting.
“What a fracked up verse this is. I barely passed quality control, and the only thing I wanted from life was to create a drink that would be named after me, but noooo! I had to prove to the rest of the Cylon[z] that I could fight. I wouldn’t have ever passed the physical, but the army was hard up for recruits. Oh Larry, you must be running on windows vistas, they said. Stupid Frackers, what the hell do they know? Finally, I scored a combat assignment. Long story short, when I finally did manage to shoot down a human viper, the thought of the pilot escaping was too much, and I decided to end this cycle of humiliation right then and there, no matter what the cost. A stupid meat bag armed with a pipe ended all my dreams"
“Gods almighty do you ever shut up,” Kara complains.
Arriving at the bar, the duo sits down, and places their order with the blond bartender. When Kara gets a good look at the bartenders face she gasps.
“Ellen! What the frack is going on?”
“Didn’t Tigh tell you? Kara, you’re here so you can understand your destiny,” laughs Ellen. “Oh. Who are you sexy,” asks Ellen in a sultry voice as she looks over Kara’s bruised shoulder.
“Cavil, Brother Cavil,” says the skeevy voice. Cavil sits down next to Kara.
As Ellen swirls Larry’s drink with an umbrella straw, she asks,”how do you want your drink?”
"Swirled, not stirred,” responds the immaculately dressed, yet still quite skeevy Cavil.
Both Ellen and Cavil turn towards Kara, and with a wink, they say in unison: “This too, has a purpose and a meaning.”
The blond drunk man sitting next to Larry loudly yells “IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!”
Taking the whole bar by surprise, Larry backhands the man, knocking him off the stool.
“What? Give me a break; after 387 times, that’s beating a dead Daggit,” says Larry.
“Horse dear, not a Daggit. If you are going to use a saying, at least try to keep it correct,” sighs Ellen.
