little robots in ringback tones.

[heartlessglitch]

WHO: danger & YOU!
WHERE: various locations around heropa and cape canaveral!
WHEN: 05/01-05/03.
WHAT: robot lady adventures in spicy food and terrorists!
WARNINGS: tbd.

a: local park (morning/organic form)
[ Danger's organic body was, truthfully, not as different from her mechanical container as one might have imagined. There were certainly stark contrasts-- but this body required maintenance, just as much as her armored chassis did. Besides, when the recent attempts on her psychiatrist's life, she'd had a lot on her mind, to say the least. She needed time to herself to think. So she took her human-like form out to run, early in the morning before the heat and the sun became too harsh. Her path took her through the Heropa's residential area, out to the local park.

But she wasn't doing much running at the moment. A progressive pain in her right leg had grown intense enough that even the self-titled war machine needed a moment on a bench, hands kneading the muscle as she attempted to assess herself. Analysis was easier with a computerized brain-- the kind of brain that didn't feel pain to begin with.

It could end up being a long (limping) walk home. ]



b: food truck (afternoon/organic form)
[ It had been easier to force herself to experiment with foods when she'd had a companion with a more adventurous palate-- but with fellow robot Steve counted among those lost between this universe and the last, science and progress had to be the motivation for what Danger had come to think of as tests. Despite having lived in her organic body on and off for months on months now, she was still gastronomically inexperienced, so to speak. Partially through her own unwillingness to put anything too unusual into her mouth. Taste was one sense she was still adjusting to. It was still new.

But after the incident at the house-- the one where a sadistic housemate had decided to serve weaponized tofu for dinner-- she had become determined to adapt. To educate herself. To increase her tolerance through trial by culinary fire.

Danger stood outside an Indian food truck with a styrofoam container full of curry, staring into its depths as though she might be able to pick it apart with her mind if she stared long enough. In her human-like body, it was impossible to ignore the strong smell (foreign to her, and burning ever so slightly at her sinuses). This was the being that had single-handedly thrown half a dozen of the finest X-Men around like rag dolls, facing off with a cup of spicy curry as though it were an unstable nuclear reactor.

Finally, she lifted a spoonful to her mouth. For a long moment, she didn't chew. Or swallow. Or do much of anything besides stand there. Still. Eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Seconds ticked by-- and unceremoniously, the unknowable and infinite entity that called herself "Danger" parted her lips to let that spoonful of curry slowly fall from her mouth onto the sidewalk. ]



c: cape canaveral streets (night/robotic form)
[ This situation was not ideal. Of course, being a robot, she was calculating and considering any number of possible resolutions to the circumstances at hand. Though it was complicated by the fact that her suspect-- a man in a hoodie, average, tachycardic, body temperature rising-- was currently holding a handgun to the head of a homeless civilian, who in turn looked approximately two seconds from passing out. ]

Stand down.
I am a government agent, and I am authorized to negotiate on your behalf if you release the hostage.

[ Though it was getting more likely that if the suspect didn't quickly bend to her demands, she would be forced to utilize any number of the weapons at her disposal to neutralize him. That would mean paperwork later, and dealing with politics. This was, after all, Homeland Security she was working for. There were some liberties she could take, certainly, but still.

It needed to be dealt with as cleanly as possible. It was lucky enough that the late hour meant there wasn't a gawking crowd about, even exposed out on the street like this. ]

Drop your weapon.
I will not repeat my request again.

Comments

[paintjobs]

"I'm inquiring," he says, with exaggerated patience, "Because I'm a doctor. I could help, if there were an issue. Oh, sure, I don't know as much about these organic bodies, but what sort of medic would I be if I didn't make the attempt to learn?"

Most of that is a lie. He's looked into things enough to be able to take care of himself, but the question is definitely for his own amusement. His smile looks downright pleasant by now though, and says none of this.

[heartlessglitch]

Truthfully, her recent experience with doctors has been varied and only partially medical, so the fact that Knock Out is, apparently, among their number receives an internal mixed review. She glances at him again, eyes still narrowed with something either skeptical or suspicious. Obviously she isn't sure she believes that he wants to be helpful to her.

She certainly doesn't smile back.

"You have my invitation to inspect and assess, if you wish," she finally answers. "Though I somewhat doubt you could do much to aid me that I could not do for myself."

[paintjobs]

Well, at least he's used to people being skeptical and suspicious of him. Really, if they weren't, there would probably be something wrong.

"We won't know that until I see what the problem is, will we?" he drawls, but the tone is still cheerful. Knock Out pushes off from his lean against the back of the bench and circles around to stand in front of her. "Now, a few standard questions, bear with me — what were you doing at the time of the malfunction?"

[heartlessglitch]

It probably doesn't help at all that she's become instinctively distrustful-- but either way, she lets him come stand in front of her without attempting to escape or attack him. That must be a plus. Instead, she just continues to eye him.

"I was running. Approximately ten miles per hour. Distance to current location from starting point, roughly one and a half miles," she responds with very little inflection. "The pain progressed until I was forced to stop."

[paintjobs]

"Mmhmm." He looks over her clinically, even the smirk dropping away as he falls into the bored routine that he's used on Vehicons for what feels like half his life. "And is this a recurring problem, or the first time you've dealt with it?"

[heartlessglitch]

She doesn't like discussing this-- it's obvious by the look on her face, how she purses her lips at his questioning and frowns. It isn't that she has any issue producing the information, but talking about her injury feels too much like exposing weakness. This organic body of hers is inherently more vulnerable in some ways than her mechanical one, but accepting that doesn't mean that she likes it.

"I have had some mild pain and soreness in the past," comes her answer after a beat. Her leg still throbs, even as they speak. "But nothing I found to be unbearable. Usually it was relieved with rest."

[paintjobs]

He nods, thoughtful, trying to remember everything he's studied about leg pains. Muscles cramping, that's probably what it is. And what did he read about that? He shifts forward, moving for the leg she'd been running.

"This one, I assume." His hand hovers above it, like he's asking permission — but really it's to work up to touching bare skin. He's still not quite used to the feeling of that. It's too squishy.

[heartlessglitch]

If she'd known what he was thinking, she would have sympathized. She remembered her first few days in an organic body vividly. It had been miserable-- more than miserable. Too many sensations, sensitive skin covering her entire body, all the smells, and having to eat. She's grown more accustomed to those things, but still. It never stops feeling foreign, not really.

"Yes," she confirms, watching him carefully as his hands move towards her. "You assume correctly." A beat, then perhaps a bit pointedly, she adds on belatedly, "Doctor."

[paintjobs]

He takes a breath, lowers his hand, and sets it lightly on her thigh. And just manages not to shudder. There's something truly creepy about being able to feel the inner workings through the outer coverings.

"Right. Tell me if this helps, then." He squeezes carefully, determined to ignore everything about it that he dislikes. Relax the muscles via compression, hold and massage. He'd usually enjoy taking advantage of the intimacy of a move like this, but not when he's so unsettled by it all.

This had better pay off.

[heartlessglitch]

She isn't very expressive, even in skin and bones-- but she isn't able to help a slight instinctive flinch when he touches her, just tensing under his hands when he squeezes, despite the gentle pressure. It's still painful at first, making her eyebrows knot slightly as she watches him work.

After a few moments though, it does seem to help. The bunched up muscle relaxes gradually, bringing her a little relief.

Still, she's noticed his discomfort- or maybe just suspects it, through her own experience, because when she finally speaks, she remarks on it quietly, "It isn't necessary for you to force yourself to do this."

[paintjobs]

"Obviously not. It isn't necessary for me to do anything." He doesn't look up from her leg until he can feel the muscles begin to unknot under his hand, and then he glances up to meet her eyes with a small smile. "But we inorganics should look out for each other, hmm?"

[heartlessglitch]

It's obvious by her scrutiny that she isn't sure what to make of that small smile-- or even this general willingness to help her that he seems to display. Maybe the truth really is that it's simple camaraderie between two inorganics, but Danger has grown to be too suspicious to take such a sentiment at face value. But still.

"I am appreciative of your assistance, Knock Out," she answers after a beat. "I will repay you."

[paintjobs]

He waves a hand dismissively as he takes a seat next to her on the bench. "Unless you've figured out how to explain how to change forms since last time we met, there isn't much you have that I want."

He aims for casual, but can't quite stop the hopeful glance that he darts over at her as he says it.

[heartlessglitch]

She catches that look he gives her, though it's difficult to say if she knows how to interpret it or not. Her own face remains rather impassive, especially now that some of the tight pain in her leg has abated.

"I find it to be a particularly personal process, Knock Out," she responds at length, "I cannot say that even if I were able to adequately explain it to you that your mechanical form would become available with the same trigger. But I am not withholding information from you purposefully."

[paintjobs]

He sighs heavily, a little dramatically, and leans back hard against the back of the bench.

"I know you aren't, you don't have any good reason to," he says unhappily, and scrubs a hand over his face. It's more trying than he'd care to admit to not only be stuck like this, but know that he should be able to change it. He adds, in a mutter, "Thanks anyway."

[heartlessglitch]

Her stare lingers, taking in his frustration. Even with her limited emotional experience, she can tell that he's unhappy-- that much is obvious. Despite the resting flatness of her expression, she does sympathize. As well as she's taken to her own organic form, it never feels completely right. It isn't the form she truly belongs in.

Finally, she lifts a hand to briefly touch his shoulder-- just a fleeting gesture, lasting hardly a moment.

"I will assist you in other ways, if I can," she answers finally, "I do feel some sense of responsibility, given our commonalities."