ArchivedLogs:W3bshooters Complete

W3bshooters Complete
Dramatis Personae Kisha, Peter
In Absentia	2013-04-28 '
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 KNOCKKNOCKKNOCKKNOCK - followed by a rattle of metal as Peter just says, screw it, immagonnaOPENTHEDOOR. Mind you, he does this slowly, listening for any complaints or shouts of 'STOP'; he's currently clad in a black hoodie, blue jeans, sneakers - glasses - and a fresh pair of crutches. Well, one crutch; the other is propped up beside the wall so he can reach for the doorknob. "Kisha?" he asks. "Hey Kisha I wanted to ask you about the, um, web-thingies...?" Perched on the edge of her bed (pretty much the only part not covered in junk) is one Kisha Dorogoi. "Yes?" she wonders, looking up from the tray balanced on her lap. "It isn't class is it? I was sure I had enough time between to do a little work...." She's in her usual black t-shirt and pants combo, offset with a stylish unburnt labcoat. "Ah wait it's /you/. You're probably after your gunk guns aren't you? Let me guess you are so desperate for them you're willing to lose out on all the amazing features I am working on.... The peril of working with a philistine." "...amazing features?" Peter asks, blinking owlishly as he lumbers into the room - snatching his other crutch. He doesn't really /need/ them at this point, but he's trying to avoid putting a lot of weight on that leg - because it /still/ hurts. "I, uh. Well, I just wanted to see - when you'd be done with them, really? I mean - amazing features are cool, I guess, but I /do/ eventually need them to be finished..." Click, click. Blinking as he surveys the room; oh my GOD so much junk. Kisha blinks. "Why do you have crutches?" she asks, perplexed. "I've just finished the spritz option which flushes the chamber with vinegar... But I've made an improvement to the mix, drop in some capsaicin and the mode can be used as a very short range pepper spray. Then I was going to add in a fiber-optic scope so you can peek through doorframes while you're... out using these for entirely legitimate purposes. Or to make sure Ivan doesn't have girls round before you open the door." "Whoa, pepper--I don't need to--I mean, that's cool I guess but--peeking around doorfr--/Kisha/," Peter says, frowning. "I do not need to /peek/ around doorframes. I mean, okay, that is kind of cool but--I mean the vinegar flush, that's a really good idea! But the other stuff is--I just need them to shoot /webs/, Kisha. That's it. And, um, maybe monitor the levels of webbing fluid left. And maybe... have a tracking device in them. Or be able to shoot tracking devices. Or..." And now /Peter/ trails off, getting a distant look - he may, in some ways, be no better than Kisha. Suddenly, as if just remembering her previous question, he blinks and snaps to attention - looking at the crutches. "Oh--oh! This, uh--some guy--I was just, y'know, running around the city--and there was this big fight? And a guy started throwing knives at me 'cuz I guess he didn't like me." He glances down at his leg. "S'fine, though, just a couple of stitches." Kisha blinks. Then blinks again. "Well I guess I can't blame him," she decides. "Did you hear Doctor Doom offered me a job interview? The teachers wouldn't me go. I mean because of my age and he might have said he'd kill me if I failed... But still pretty flattering! Unless it was because he knew I was stealing technical data on his robots. Then it was probably just a plot to kill me." "Well, the spritzer is in. Vinegar alone or the improved solution is entirely upto you," Kisha notes, glancing around. "If you want to sit you can probably borrow Sophies chair. I doubt she'd mind." Briefly she pauses and grabs a sheet of paper. "The fiber-optics would be a tiny addition and would add less weight than the attachments to the five point climbing harness did! I did mention I'd added that I hope... But anyway if you don't want it you have to promise never to complain about needing to see on the other side of a door. Or I'll hit you with the 'I-told-you-so-hammer." From the scowl that accompanies this statement it's entirely possible she is refering to an actual hammer. It's probably quite a large one too. Scowl. Peter blinks at Kisha. "You met -- oh man, I met him too. I mean he didn't offer me a /job/, good /grief/ Kisha he's -- you /know/ he's a supervillain, right? Like I know we aren't in a comic book or anything, but - he is a dictator who walks around in powered exoskeleton armor and is called 'Doctor Doom'. If /ever/ there was a man who qualified as a supervillain..." "...but, um. Yeah, I promise never to complain about needing to see on the other side of a door, Kisha," Peter soon adds. "Also, five point - climbing harness? What?" Frumpled brows. "...but, yeah, no I don't need... all the extra stuff. Just /webs/, Kisha. Thwip thwip." He makes a little hand gesture for firing his webshooters. Kisha shakes her head in dismay. "The harness connections are removable, but advisable if you won't want to ruin your shoulders," she points out, leaning back to rummage around in the junk on her bed. "I think it's just here, one moment, ah got it." She pulls out the contraption, complete with the harness all hooked up, and holds it out. "You might want to check all the mechanisms look acceptable. Oh and the work is free if you can see a single tool mark on the nozzles. Some of the best fine detail work I've done all month, but for the record I don't think Doom's all that evil. Certianly no worse than anyone else involved in government." "You said you just wanted that stuff I brought in payment, right?" Peter asks, taking the harness and device, frowning as his fingers run over it - /inspecting/ the whole shebang. One crutch now leaning against the wall; the other under his shoulder. "I mean, even if I /did/ find a toolmark, I wouldn't tell you to give all that stuff back --" Peter's fingers crawl over the pair of devices nevertheless. "...you know, I didn't even /think/ of a shoulder harness. That's - um - probably a good idea. I mean, even being strong and stuff, all the climbing'll probably hurt my arms after a while. They /did/ get kind of achey, sometimes..." On the subject of Doom: "I am /pretty/ sure he is evil, Kisha. I mean, I guess most governments are evil? But he is really /obviously/ evil. Like super-obvious. The guy wears a scowling faceplate I mean /come on/. What does he need to do to convince you that he's evil, eat a baby on TV? Also, thanks - I can't test this out just yet, cuz stitches, but..." Kisha shakes her head. "I believe the bill was a single capsule and the leftover parts," she corrects. "The image is all a PR thing. I mean think about it, he's just liberated a country he can't afford to look weak or else the rule of law will collapse. People will decide they can oust him from power and a civil war will start!" She hmmmmmmms. "Honestly I bet you wouldn't use the term supervillian if it wasn't for that creepy Spider, probably starting fires so he can save people... Oh. Which reminds me.... One thing about those things is that I did consider was a flame thrower modification, but it would have been very obvious. Passe even. So I left it out." "...yeah no I think... I think a flamethrower would be... no," Peter adds, a bit more /sternly/ now. "Flamethrower is a definite no. And, right - one of the capsules. I forgot." He shifts, then, slinging that nylon blackpack over to his left hip - holding the harness and webshooter with the other as he /scrounges/ for it. Scrounge, scrounge. One of the brass metal cartridges is produced, held out to her. And then: "I don't think it's PR. I mean, maybe, but. I don't know. My folks always tell me if a guy looks scary that's probably because he /is/ scary." Kisha rolls her eyes. "Well anyway I've RFID tagged them so with a smartphone app you can track them over short distances," she explains. "Come up with a simple gauge which should let you work out your solution levels, but I couldn't test it because of the lack of gunk. Think that's all the feature creep I got round to." She shrugs. "Well, by that logic the Spider /is/ a crook too. Only bad guys wear masks while sneaking around at night. Besides I think the whole power armour thing is kind of adorable and I'd imagine it gives you every reason to scowl. I'd imagine it'd leave the poor guy a little chafed somewhere delicate." "I guess. The mask is just - you know it's /illegal/ to do mutant-y things in the city," Peter mumbles, still investigating the device - now, he's carefully folding the harness up as best as he can, sliding it into that nylon backpack. Cinching it shut. Re-equiping his crutches! "Like, they'll /arrest/ you for doing anything - mutanty. Or give you a ticket, or something. So, the mask is mostly for - mmf. /Anyway/, thanks. I'll test it out soon - once I get the stitches out." "Well whatever," Kisha mutters. "I know /I/ don't trust a guy like that. People who lie all the time, disgraceful!" She waves her hand. "Let me know how it works. I tried to estimate your size for the harness but you might wanna adjust it. A pleasure doing business with you really, hope you enjoy your sticking things to other things."