ArchivedLogs:Robot Porn

Robot Porn
Dramatis Personae Hive, Melinda, Mirror, Shelby
In Absentia	2013-07-24 '
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. It's going to rain, soon. In fact, it is already making the first of desultory sprinkles; just a few isolated patterdrops of rain falling from what -- at least here above the park -- is largely a sunny-clear sky. Plenty of grey in the distance; plenty of /sun/ overhead. There is a young woman perched on one of the park benches. Dark-skinned, dark-haired, wispy slip of a green skirt, sandals, yellow tank top, gold bangles at her wrists. She has lunch with her -- greasy Indian food in plastic takeout containers, and she's eating kind of slowly. Intermittently scattering rice and a few chickpeas on the ground in front of her to watch the birds squabble over it. Her mind is for once not a strange-overlapping of strange-thoughts. Just quiet, cool, calm, Mirror alone without borrowed form to reshape it. There's a brief heavy touch against that familiar mind, the press of Hive's mind never a /comfortable/ thing. It precedes his arrival by a minute or so; when he sits he half-vaults over the back of the bench to perch on its back. He's in work-sturdy clothes, heavy jeans, heavy workboots, plain grey tee. << Sup. >> comes silently, as he gulps at an iced coffee, a hot dog in one hand. There's a Shelby somewhere in the park. She is neither quiet nor interested only in caffeine and food. The teenager's broken out the skateboard and is warring with a pack of 12 year olds for domination over the makeshift skatepark set up on a spare corner of asphalt. In the end, it is the 12 year olds that win--youth and numbers beating out on age and experience. Her thoughts are grumpy thing until at least /one/ familiar presence is spied. But rather than approach like a normal person, she ends up...rolling sloooooowly past the shared bench, performing a wicked air guitar while mind-singing the lyrics to "Stairway to Heaven", until she's out of sight around a hedge. Melinda can be seen wandering out of the vicinity of the Lofts, carrying a reusable shopping bag over one shoulder, her purse tucked under the other arm. She's intermittantly looking up into the sky, mentally tugging on the rain, trying to will it to come down and help cool her off a bit. She also has a song stuck in her head, but she can't remember all the lyrics, something about jesse mac coming back. The cafe manager is wearing a black knee length skirt, with her white button down open and untucked, exposing a white camisole underneath, her long hair pulled back in a french braid and looped under on itself. Her feet, shod in black loafers, take her down toward the bench, but she pauses when she sees Shelby, lifting a hand to wave. Hive is not spotted quite yet. Mirror continues to eat, slowly picking her way through her tray of curry. Her posture eases, at that touch, oddly relaxed beneath its discomfort, though mentally her mind /prickles/, bristling up hedgehog-like. << When Oscorp inevitably shrinks its blocking technology down to wearable size, >> she muses thoughtfully, << will you get some for yourself? >> She sniffs at his hot dog. A little /disdainfully/. Her eyes track the teenager skateboarding by with absent recognition << 305 >> and she plucks one single chickpea out of her dish to deposit it neatly atop Hive's hot dog. << Be first in fucking line, >> Hive answers, mental tone dry if you can get past the sudden whipcrack sting of the intrusion. /He/ reaches over to steal Mirror's spoon and scoop an entire /spoonful/ of chickpeas over his hot dog. Mel's /mind/ is noted before her physical presence, and both she and Shelby get the same greeting, a brief squeeze of mental pressure that touches there and then withdraws. Melinda does not receive a wave in return, from Shelby. Melinda gets Shelby /throwing up the horns/ as she kick-spins her skateboard. Hell yeah! Then it's back, rolling sloooooowly by the bench...until that squeeze causes a wobble that throws off the /whole performance/. << ...dude. No goosing me while I'm being fuckin' metal, Jesus... >> Another kick and a hop sees her recovering, the board leaping up into her hand before she mosies over to sit between Hive's feet. Iced coffee? Don't mind if she does. "Guys. I got beat up by kids. My life, it's over." Melinda gives a bit of a smirk when she receives the 'horns' from Shelby, paying attention to her performance. Her head starts to turn when Hive makes his presence known, but Shelby's falter causes her to lock back on the teen until she's clearly not going to eat pavement. She winces. Then she follows her over to the bench, lifting her hand to wave at the other two. "Hey," She greets them softly, then eyes the bench to see if there's more room. "Really? Kids? That's just not fair. Kind of hard to fight back, if they're small enough." The pigeons pecking at Mirror's scattered foods scatter themselves, when the skateboard nears again. Mirror watches them take off with a distracted shift of gaze. "Wouldn't small enough make it easier to fight back?" Mirror glances over the approaching two thoughtfully; it takes another moment to place Melinda: << Helpful. Friend. -- Everyone's friend? >> She is asking Hive for confirmation on this: /who/ did Melinda come attached to during those post-raid days? She scoots slightly to one side, to leave more room on the end of the bench. << If you were /really/ metal you'd just bull your way on through it, >> Hive answers, in somewhat of a /grumble/ as his coffee is pilfered. "Shit, yeah, smaller just means you can rack up a sweet combo if you hit enough of them in a row. I say you go back and take the suckers out." << Everyone's friend. >> This confirmation comes with a small twitch of lips. "Yeah," Shelby says, hooking a thumb towards Mel 'cause she got it in one, "but their parents were around and park parents /always/ call the cops." 'Cause they're assholes. This is known. At least, it is known if you're the sort of person who's clotheslined a twelve year old in a public park before. Which...she might be. Siiiiiiip. The sugar helps a little with the abrading her mind suffers with Hive's response. << ...so maybe I'm more punk, and I'd goose you back but you were sitting down. >> "So, s'up?" "Yeah, you don't want some pre-menopausal mother coming after you for laying a hand on her kid. They are pretty messed up, claws, fangs, and law suits. And the kids? Get enough of them and ..." Melinda stops, pushing down a memory of youth work she did, summer breaks in high school. She nods gratefully to Mirror as she settles onto the bench and lifts her feet off the ground a bit to relieve some of the ache inside them. << Children are zombie hordes. >> "Lunch," Mirror answers simply, swirling her spoon through her curry. "And then rain, I expect." << Everyone's friend, >> she turns this over thoughtfully, too. << That. Sounds tiring. >> The mental picture Melinda's words summon up is a bizarre pastiche. Dusk mooshed together with the twins mooshed together with Claire. And a horde of small children in tow. "Mothers sound like they would make excellent shock troops." Hive chuffs out a snort, leaning forward to snag his coffee /back/. "I'll keep that in mind next time I get an urge to deck a fifth grader. << Tiring, >> he agrees wryly to Mirror. << Most people are. >> "Lunch break," backs up Mirror's answer. "I'm kind of hoping it starts pouring so I can take the rest of the day off anyway. Sup with you?" Kind of generically directed, at Shelby and Mel both. "Aside from getting beat up by kids." One eye scrunches up in somewhat of a /wince/ at the bizarre chimaera Mirror's mind sumons up. "-- Yeeeah, we can just avoid pissing off moms today." "Ugh, don't say that too loud or someone might get ideas. An army of moms would be fucking /scary/," says Shelby, releasing the coffee back into Hive's care. After she's had another healthy sip, of course. "Boss is out today so I get to play hookie. We should do something if it rains. Like hit the arcade or go throw M&Ms at seagulls or..." She pauses to search for other suitable Wednesday evening pursuits. Clubs are probably a no go, responsible sorts would probably veto painting pro-mutant grafitti in the subways... "Oh! I know. Spike the dog park with bacon." "Dog park... with bacon?" Melinda considers this for a while, imagining burying chunks of bacon under the ground so dogs ignore their commands and just paw at it and eat nasty mouthfulls. It seems very messy for little reward. If she's not there to see it, what's the point? "We had a large order at the cafe that someone fucked up, put ham on all of the sandwiches for a Jewish group. Don't know whose fault it is, the customer for ordering the wrong sandwich or the person taking the order for not spelling it out clearly that there was pork in the mix." She obviously is blaming the customer. "So I brought them by if anyone it the lofts were hungry." She sets the grocery bag down so that the tray inside can be seen. "I'd offer, but you two already have food. Shelby?" "My work," Mirror laments quietly, "does not stop for the rain." She scoops up a last spoonful of curry, getting to her feet with -- also, admittedly, some rather puzzled pondering over the value of spiking the dog park with bacon. Or throwing M&Ms at seagulls. << Do you do that? For fun? >> she asks Hive, as she slips a short distance away to toss her takeout container and plastic spoon into the trash. "My roommates would probably eat a couple," she admits, making a small hopeful beckoning with one hand and holding up two fingers with the other? "If there are enough?" "Where's Jax?" Hive's brow furrows faintly at Shelby's mention of playing hookie. He takes a deep pull of his coffee, and dips his head to chomp a large bite of chickpea-covered hot dog. << ... no, >> he is forced to admit; aloud: "The fuck would I want to throw M&Ms at seagulls for? I am always down for arcade, though. "Just blame everyone," he advises Mel. "S'always good to spread the rage /around/ a bit. -- I bet Dusk'd take /all/ the sandwiches." "Nah, I'm good if other folks want 'em. Thanks though." Why is Shelby good? After Hive has taken a bite of his dog, she's reaching up with beckoning fingers to silently demand it be placed right there. In her waiting palm. "Dude, you ever see a flock of seagulls go crazy before? It's better than movies and costs less. Seagulls /everywhere/, fighting each other for cheap chocolate." You haven't lived until you've done it, is what she's saying. "But arcade's cool too. "...rage sandwich. Band name." "There are twenty-five half sandwiches. I'm pretty sure there's plenty to go around." Melinda shrugs as she pulls out the tray, setting it on her lap and cracks the lid off. "Take as much as you want. Dusk can have the rest. It's his own fault for not magically knowing I was going to randomly show up, and not being within ear's range of his buzzer." She smiles and leans back, allowing people access to the sandwiches. "Spreading the rage is too much work. I budget for waste, talk to the employee, fix the sandwiches for the customer, and deliver free food to my friends. Kind of a win in the end." "A win for us." Mirror's smile is quick and thin. She licks a spot of curry off the end of one forefinger, heading over to help herself to /three/ half-sandwiches, held carefully. Her head dips in thanks. "Thank you. That is kind of you." And then she is wandering off! Back towards the Lofts. Sans farewell but kind of /determinedly/, with sandwiches in tow. "Ah-ah-ah," Hive lifts his hot dog just a little bit higher out of reach. "Dude, Mel's got sandwiches /right/ the fuck there. Like. Sitting. Waiting to be eaten!" He even points. With his /elbow/, because his hands are occupied with coffee and hot dog. "I dunno, movies are pretty great. /Air/ conditioning, man. Plus I just saw this one that was nothing but giant robots and giant monsters whaling on each other. /Pretty much/ movie perfection. -- You gonna name your band that?" The smile he gives Melinda is crooked. "There you go being all /sensible/ about it. One day you're gonna learn to embrace the dark side." "Dark Side's also a good band name," Shelby points out, using her most reasonable tone of voice and aiming it at Melinda. Hive's refusal to give over the dog just causes her to stretch her arm higher. Gimmmmme. Stolen food is better than offered food. "See you, uh...you!" That's for Mirror, whose leaving will /not/ go unobserved--at least until she stops to consider the concept of giant robots VS monsters. "...what the hell, has /everyone/ seen that one except me? No fair." "You're welcome," Melinda tells Mirror, smiling as she takes her stash. "Enjoy the win, and have a wonderful afternoon, even if you are working." There's a little wave, and then she turns her attention back to the antics of the other two. Her fingers select a sandwich of her own and she starts to nibble. "I haven't seen it, if it's any consolation, but I don't know if you want to be at my level. Generally get too busy to see a movie." Om nom nom. Tasty sandwich. "The dark side tries luring me, but it doesn't seem to have the right bait yet." "Probably /pretty much/ everyone." Hive reaches his arm up higher! No hot dog for you. "But I'd totally see that shit /again/, man, it was fucking awesome. Supposed to even be edging back into hot this weekend, if you want to grab some cool." Still holding hot dog high out of reach, he takes another swig of his coffee. "Are you kidding, man, that side has /cookies/ what does it take to win you over?" << Fucking tease! Getting you back for that later, not letting me have your long dog. >> Shelby finally gives over in her quest for hot dog, and goes to the sandwich side, rummaging herself out something tasty and porky. "Jax isn't my boss," she says, ever so belatedly, "but I bet I could get a couple've hours from the dude to catch a flick this weekend. C'mon, Mel, you can't find two spare hours to rub together?" The word rub is practically purred out to give it all sorts of dirty intonation, before she chomps a bite of sandwich and is thankfully silent while having to chew. "I get my cookies from Jax. There's no way that's dark side. The kid beams light." Melinda considers the question as she chews quietly. "Chocolate and wine," she utters before stuffing more sandwich in her mouth, giving a tiny smile around her mouth full of food. Alas, she didn't bring anything to drink and wash it down, so it takes her a while to be able to respond. "Sure. I could hit a movie. I'll just tell the cafe I'm talking with a vendor or something. We don't have any other deliveries today, so they won't need the car back any time soon." << /My/ fucking hot dog, dude. >> "This weekend," Hive corrects absently. Then turns his head back to squint up at the sky contemplatively. "Unless you /wanted/ to go right now. Still don't know if I have to get back to work or not. -- S'your Saturday look like, Mel?" With Shelby safely sandwiched, Hive brings his hot dog back down to his mouth for another chomp. "You make moviewatching sound so dirty. Though. This /is/ pretty much giant robot /porn/ I sat in the back and touched myself the whole time." "I bet Jax has a dark side. Somewhere in there. Kinda like how everyone has appendixes but we don't use them anymore, huh?" Half of that is garbled due to another bite of sandwich, but once again Shelby proves that scholarship programs are /good/ things. Even though she still failed bio. BLAH. "What's the word?" she asks of Hive. "Starts with a v." << It's totally going to rain, man, you can smell it. >> is added silently, along with...well...he cannot say things like that without there being /some/ accompanying mental images. Shelby would need a stronger will to resist that impulse. "I think it's a rule. If you sit in the back you have to do it up dirty." "I've... got nothing on v-appendixes." Melinda admits, listening to Shelby. "But listening to Hive talking about touching himself - now I can only think of vaginas." Mel's mind isn't necessarily going anywhere sexual. Its a simple game of word association. V body part. Robot porn. "Well, my weekends are Sunday, Monday, but I could swing a Saturday night, if you guys were up for an evening thing. Know the tickets are a little more expensive. That could be a problem." "Vestigial," Hive supplies reflexively. "I think vaginas still serve a purpose. A -- few purposes." His lips curl faintly. "Yeah. Fuck it. It's gonna rain," he agrees, "I'll call the site. Have 'em -- whatever. Pack shit up. We gonna sit in the back? I will need to bring my lube." His expression as he chomps down the last of his hot dog does not give much indication of the seriousness of this. "Still got a couple hours before it gets /mad/ pricey." He got it in one! "I was gonna go with vagina too," Shelby is forced to admit though, even as she grins and gives the architect's knee a squeeze to reward him for that small victory. Or maybe because he's given into the peer pressure to play hooky. Or the dirty joke...s! Who knows, with her. Whatever the reason, she bounces to her feet afterwards and snaps her board up into one hand. The other pushes the last of the sandwich into her mouth, turning her cheeks as fat as a chipmunk's. "Mmm mm mmmm. Mmmmmm mm mmm." << Bring the lube. Allllll the lube. >> "Seriously? You need lube? Don't you have a self lubricating geek organ?" Melinda asks of Hive, eyebrows waived. There's a hint that she doesn't really want to be the third wheel for the afternoon, single person with a couple -- but having not seen either of them in so long, she's trying (and failing miserably) to keep it to herself. "And cheapness is only based on what time you start the movie, not the whole chunk of time you're in there. Matinees end at five, right?" << /Couple/? >> This is Hive's reflexive (skeptical) brainstab of startled answer to Mel's thoughts. "Ngh -- six," sounds very faintly disgruntled, as he sucks his fingertips clean. "I think they end at six." He stands, first on the seat of the bench and then hopping down to the ground. "You're not all that familiar with geek anatomy, are you?" He slurps at his coffee again, and crumples his hot dog foil into a ball to toss it towards the nearby trashcan. And miss. And glare at the ball of foil-and-paper on the ground before slouching over to pick it up. "Could go. Deliver sandwiches to Dusk and check movie times." "Self...lubricating...? What, like a brain?" Shelby is likewise puzzled, for different reasons. She licks at a dab of mustard globbed at the corner of her lips. Then she throws the skateboard to the ground and plants a foot on it. "I think I could swing a couple tickets, maybe three, but not the popcorn. Wanna see if Dusk wants in too? He'd need to wear his creepy flasher coat but..." << Whoa, over simplification. Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it. >> Melinda winces and looks vaguely sick as she puts the cover back on the tray and rests it back in her bag for easier carrying. "Sounds like a plan. The sandwiches will need to be refrigerated anyway, and theaters get touchy if you try to bring in outside food." She gets to her feet and rolls her shoulders little to relax them. "Nope. Not good with geek anatomy." She smiles at Shelby. "Brains don't use lube though, so it can't be that." "-- I lube brains. They go in much easier that way." Hive slurps down the last of his coffee, tossing the plastic cup away, too. "Can check with Dusk. I'll get the refreshments. S'almost like I got a real-boy job now." His hands slip into his pockets, fishing out his phone as his shoulders sink into habitual slouch. He taps his way through his contacts absently. "Alright. Going to /officially/ be playing hooky now." He puts a finger to his lip as he dials, starting back towards the Lofts while he makes arrangements for monsterrobot porn in lieu of working.