ArchivedLogs:Webshooters v3.0

Webshooters v3.0
Dramatis Personae Peter, Kisha
In Absentia	2013-04-15 Peter asks Kisha for help with the new webshooters.
Location <XS> Kisha and Sophie's Dorm - FL2
Kisha's half of the room is more than a little outlandish as the young mutant has decorated in a highly unconventional style by covering the walls and windows in a selection of cork boards and white boards - each of which is covered in diagrams and schematics of various kinds. Plastic storage boxes filled with bits of machinery are stacked waist high along the walls and her wardrobe is filled with various overalls, tool belts and other oddities. Her bed itself seems to function mostly as a storage place for her clothing, school books, with a little space left to serve as a couch. Knock. Knock-knock-knock. KNOCKKNOCKKNOCKKNOCK. Peterknock. He's currently clad in a black hoodie, blue jeans, sneakers, and a 'TEACH THE CONTROVERSY' t-shirt (complete with the devil burying fossils). He's also got /two/ - count 'em, /two/ very large plastic bags in either hand. And his nylon backpack. And those ridiculous glasses of his. He's frowning a bit, forehead /wrinkled/. It's only been a day since the great tidying up and even Kisha is unable to undo so much work in such a short space of time. Of course it looks like she's having a serious go. Dressed in black pants and a t-shirt, set off with a clean-ish white labcoat she presides over a veritable collection of /stuff/. Lots of which seems to be gleaming medical implants ranging from bone pins to skull plates. "Still nothing flammable in here," she yells. "Do I need to print out a flier before people understand?" Pause. Followed by: KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. And then, muffled, on the other side of the door: "I'm not here about you burning down the school oh my /God/." Knock. KnockknockknockLETMEIN. "Could you not just have opened the door?" Kisha asks, stomping over and flinging the door open without considering how the drill she's holding might look. "/What/? I am in the middle of important science here." The drill whirrs. "It's... I didn't know if it'd be okay for me to just - open - the door," Peter admits, eyeing not Kisha so much as the drill; the boy takes a cautious hop backward, wrinkling his nose, bags jingling. "Um - hi, is this - a bad time? I guess it is a bad time if you are doing important science, but, um..." The bags are, by the sound of them, full of metal. And debris. And unusual things that clank and clink. "Well obviously I am not doing science now," Kisha points out. "Because I'm standing here talking to you... And if you want to be technical nothing I'm doing is actually going to be impacted by a short delay. Although I would like to have the skull plates put away before Sophie gets back. I do not think she is quite ready for them." The drill whirrs away. Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. "I suppose you can come in briefly, if you have something to discuss?" "...skull-plates. Okay." Peter is still staring at that drill. Particularly as it whirrs. "Right. Um. Hi. I wanted to know - I know we didn't get off on a good start and I /guess/ this isn't, um. The best way to rectify that. But I wanted to ask if maybe I could have your help with something. I'd - give you something - in exchange." STILL staring at the drill. Making no move to enter. Kisha blinks, then turns to see what Peter is staring at. Whirrrrrrrrrr. "Oh. Sorry," she stomps back over towards her desk and puts the drill down with a thud. "I was drilling some holes in various items to prevent future necrosis problems.... It's all stuff for your friend Tatters. Body armour, inside and out." Leaning against the desk, carefully so as not to sit on any of her work (especially the pointy bits), Kisha eyes the bags. "A trade... could be acceptable providing I find the task interesting and the payment suitable." "Mmmhhh... right." Slowly, Peter breathes. Through his nose. Still eyeing the drill, even as Kisha sets it down. Veeeeeerryyyy slowly, he steps forward; still holding those bags as he ventures into the interior of the room. "I wanted to, um... ask for your help... designing... a device. Kind of weird. I'm not sure it even... exists. Well, /some/ exist, but--" Peter sets the bag down. Reaching into one of them. Pulling out... ...a leather-strapped web-shooter. Soldered together out of the shell of a wrist-watch, various clumsily-fashioned together valves, and with a bit of insulated coppering to form the contact point that gets taped to the palm. Primitive - this is the first variant Peter made; not the more recent set. He's snagged it from Ivan for the moment. "--but not the kind I need to make." "You want to make a goop gun?" Kisha asks curiously. "Didn't you already have one... That thing you tried to stop me from seeing in the woods. When you'd stuck yourself to the tree." She smiles. "Why exactly do you need it? I mean it's probably more effective than pepper spray, but you do have superstrength. I wouldn't have imagined you needed something like that.... Also there was mention of a payment for helping?" Peter produces a small brass canister from the other bag. Continuing: "It's not /just/ a goop gun. It's - a zip-line. It produces long, silver strands that you can use to - catch things. Pull things. /Swing/ from place to place. It can goop, too, or coccoon, but those are just to - like, /restrain/ people. Or things. Sometimes." He holds the canister out for Kisha to see, taking in a slow breath. "These are what the glue gets stored in. I'll give you... three," Peter says, and it's clear by his expression the notion of giving her this visibly /pains/ him. Kisha blinks. "As payment or to study in the design process?" she asks, eyes skimming over the canister. "Because I am not sure exactly what I would do with high pressure glue canisters as a payment.... Unless I maybe built a UAV which used them as a payload." She shakes her head. "Sorry, getting distracted. It's a zip-line, seriously? Doesn't it gum up the wheels?" "So basically you need help making a multi-functional device that is not only a very eccentric form of transport but a very eccentric form of self defense?" Kisha asks, somewhat perplexed. "I can't see any compelling reasons to say no, providing you're willing to sign a statement to the effect that to the best of your knowledge this project isn't breaking any school rules /or/ laws. Just as a formality you understand, because I'm sure it /is/ all above board. Right?" "I already -- made a few," Peter admits, hesitantly, his cheeks coloring pink. "I just - there are a few bits I haven't been able to do. Like figuring out a way to monitor the contents inside of the canister - or quicker reloads. And the coccoon setting jams /constantly/, and I've been trying to figure out a way to make /both/ ends of the zip-lines stick to something, instead of just one end, but - yeah, basically. I'd give you the three canisters to do whatever. The glue's - really crazy. It's some sort of bio-adhesive paste. It lasts for an hour, then it just evaporates. And it's /bizarro/ strong." Peter blinks at the mention of wavers and laws. "It's - as far as I know there's nothing illegal about it, I mean it's just - weird-as-heck. I mean, I don't think you could even /hurt/ anybody with this? You'd probably just hurt yourself." Kisha frowns. "My biggest concern is this stuff strongly resembles something the media reported on as part of a military arms demonstration. Which could mean the formulae, or something close enough to be a problem, is trademarked or worse still some kind of national military secret. But if you're sure that isn't an issue...." There is a slight pause as Kisha turns and begins digging around in the desk drawers for her touchpad computer. "Well, I can almost certainly manufacture small components to a much higher standard than anything you'll have access to. Not that I'm boasting... Just... I... this goes no further, right? I can cheat." "It isn't an issue," Peter mumbles, sounding almost like he /wishes/ it was an issue. "And yeah that's fine, I mean --" Wait you want Peter to keep SECRETS? "...I won't tell anybody /how/ we - you - how it gets done. But I need them to be really small, too, so I can - so they can be used really easy and not interfere with hand motions. And I need to develop... more complicated bits with them. Like, a way to switch settings quickly. I used two contact points on my palm, before - double-tap the left for a string, double tap the right for a gloop, double-tap both for coccoon - but I might need more. Like, a setting to spray solvent, instead, in case I need to /unstick/ something really fast..." He natters on and on, the bags set down. Inside are... well, the stuff Peter was working with. TECHNOLOGICAL JUNK. Bought from a hobby store. Including a pair of small, back-lit LCD screens. "I can make small objects which have no seams or mould lines, without drilling them from a solid piece of metal. Functionally flawless," Kisha assures. "Ironically the device being small actually makes that part easier. I won't need a lot of tools, just excess raw materials.... which you seem to have supplied." She does not quite spring for the bags of junk. But comes very very close. "How about a deal which works better for us both? I'll just take one of the capsules, but I get keep any remaining stuff when we're done. Seems fair to you? I get stuff I could use, you get to keep your jars-o-gunk." "...huh? Oh -- sure," Peter says, glancing down at the two bags, eyebrows knit together suddenly. "Oh, except my - soldering iron, I /need/ my soldering iron," and this is almost /defensive/, like the thought of being parted from his soldering iron was somehow of great pain to him. Kisha uhmmmmmmmmms. "I built my own?" she notes, pointing at what might be the second best set of privately owned tools in school. "And I did it while my power was in control. So it's all top quality stuff.. If you can email me any hard specifications you require, like how long your arm is and suchlike. Ideally also any schematics for the previous versions too. Then I'll see what I can think up." Peter apparently wasn't expecting this. He sets the bags down - scrounging in one of them for his soldering kit, along with a few various tools - certainly /not/ the best set of tools in the school; they've been scrounged together from various kits and second-hand stores. "...oh, cool. Okay - I mean, I thought - um, that definitely works, /sure/," Peter quickly natters away. "I'll email you the - uh, specifications. Thanks, Kisha." Again with the hint of red to his cheeks. Kisha waves her hand. "Like I said last time we spoke. I am not unreasonable," she offers. "This presents an interesting technical challenge, will provide me with additional spare parts and a payload for the next stage of drone I was planning on building. There is really no downside to the arrangement from my point of view. Well, short of accidentally blowing open a cartridge and finding out the substance is not porous. Then suffocating in it." "O-okay," Peter says, blinking /owlishly/ at Kisha. "Um. So... I'll. Be in touch, then." Backing away. Very slowly. Hesitant smile. "...thanks!" And then, DART, and GONE.