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nonstopnarcissist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sixthiterationlogs2019-01-12 06:38 pm
- !mingle,
- !ota,
- 9: 7,
- ac: malik al-sayf,
- dbh: connor-60,
- dmc: kat,
- ff: nida,
- ff: rinoa heartilly,
- ff: seifer almasy,
- hunger games: finnick odair,
- marvel: james rhodes,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: thor odinson,
- marvel: tony stark,
- overwatch: brigitte lindholm,
- rvb: agt washington,
- voltron: takashi shirogane
[ MINGLE ] FORGE AFTER HOURS
WHERE: South Village Forge
WHEN: January 8th
OPEN TO: Smitherns (Thor, Brigitte, Annie Cresta, Siefer), Plus Ones, Passers by, and Friends! Anyone, really, come on down.
WARNINGS: Language, discussion of canon typical violence probably, drinking?
THE HEARTH
With the bulk of the work and chores done for the day, the heart's banked down to a tolerable level rather than steel meltingly hot, positively cozy. Tables are cleared of metal filings and shavings, the floor is swept, extra chairs and seating or overturned crates serve as places to kick back and enjoy the warmth. A large kettle of tea is kept brewing all night, another of coffee, and a jug of cool water for those thirsty with no real requirement RE flavor. There's a rack for coats and scarves when people don't need to be quite so bundled up, and space cleared enough for milling about, tossing ideas back and forth, or simply relaxing. Arguments happen at The Debate Wall, not by the fire.
THE FOOD
It's an eclectic spread- a pot of stew, some crusty bread, frittatas, a few large, simple cheese pizzas, bottles of wine, and whatever other food the Smitherns or their Plus Ones chose to bring. It's a bit of a potluck, food spread out on one table for perusal, plates waiting and a bin for dirty dishes. Tony will scrub up at the end of the night. By the fire there's a waffle iron and as many toppings as they could find for waffles- jams, zalpaca butter, dried fruit, preserved peaches. Serve yourself or sit and sample!
THE CHILL OUT CORNER
For the more introspective or anyone taking a break from The Debate Wall, there's a comfortable chair tucked in the far corner where the light isn't as bright, the sound not quite so loud- and in this chair sits a young Peacat, a smaller pot for tea, and a few books. Elton's a friendly sort and will chirrup to lean for pets or simply sit on a lap and purr, offering calming, quiet company.
THE DEBATE WALL
Scrubbed clean for the night, the wall opposite Tony's Scrawled projects, equations, rules and definitions- currently marked only with a few notes RE proper charcoal use 'It's for the wall, not your hands, not anyone's clothes', the large space cleared for marking out or drawing out- well. Games, hangman, tic-tac-toe, sketches, or debate points. The only other rule listed is 'If you're going to pick a hill to die on, cite your references'.
no subject
For several seconds, Connor doesn't move at all. Gaze fixed, head still at the same slight angle, expression void of even the slightest humanizing twitch. Then?
He smiles back.
Lips raised. Teeth flashing. Eyes glittering with sharp and unmistakable dislike. "I'm afraid your disinterest is entirely mutual." The words are calm, tone pleasant enough, but the stare lingers as he takes a step to the side, slowly lowering to the edge of the seat. The reason for Stark's change in presentation is entirely unknown, but hostility is difficult to miss.
But fortunately simple to return. Connor tilts his head again, calm and inquiring.
no subject
Tony's got more experience with it, he's willing to bet. Connor said 'prototype' which means his model, his tech? Is pretty new. That's something to consider.
"See? Much better." His smile widens that much more, all teeth, all salt. "The Bunker's a fun little puzzle. None of us know where the data's coming from, or why the tech there is more advanced than what we have available to us in the village."
See? He can be compliant.
Sort of.
A little.
no subject
The odds of which are seeming... increasingly low. Connor's expression stays impassive, hands still: every line of his frame a perfect machine. His voice is where he lets the scorn bleed through.
"Is there anything you do know?"
no subject
Why that is? No idea. But it's a useful card to play, his eyes dark and hard, remembering bigger, badder, worse men that haven't been able to kill him. Haven't come close. Not that this is going to end in violence but, well. Dominance needs to be established.
"You're cut off from your servers-" He taps his temple, easy and casual as anything. Or he could've been brushing his hair back. Who knows? "You've got a system critical pump in your abdominal cavity, can't function without sufficient Thirium, and it takes roughly 200 newtons of force to damage your rotater cuffs."
Sweet as sin he shrugs and sips his tea, that sharklike grin right back. "I also know we've got only one rule in this village for the safety and sanity of everyone involved and you've already broken it. On your first day. Bravo, way to be a over achiever. Don't let it happen again."
no subject
Understanding.
This human's aggression does have a source. This (pathetic, futile) threat, Connor can answer. A damaged shoulder. Thirium loss. And, of course, the regulator he'd removed before he left. All part of how he'd deactivated his predecessor. All information that any engineer who came into the bunker after could obtain.
The twitch that curves up the side of Connor's mouth is entirely unfeigned this time. His eyes lock on Tony's, gleaming with nothing less than satisfaction. At the challenge. At the explanation. And at his own memories, of necessary, successful work.
"...Well played."
[Stark ▼ Hostile]
Connor's odds of changing that relationship into something he can use are low. The odds of gaining more information now? Lower. Still, that doesn't mean they're finished.
"Tell me, did you take apart its chassis?" He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands pressing together. "If I search this building, will I find dismembered parts? Or did you humanize the reject's scrap too much to use it?"
no subject
Or Klau.
Or Stane.
"It is remarkable how much you can learn about tech provided you disassemble it properly. Working with it was pretty informative- but scrap? Is right. Substandard work, I have to say, but anything mass produced will be. Pretty disappointing and, if you're identical- I mean you look identical? But I'm figuring you've got the same build, make, model, whatever. Same sloppy connections and sup-par materials. I mean, I've designed more impressive toasters so ultimately? Nothing special- and not really worth the effort in the end. Neither would you be. So. Like I said. We've got the one rule. Don't break it again. Or, you know do." He crackles a laugh that's far less kind than it sounds, shrugging like it doesn't matter. Because it doesn't.
"Made a few new tools to help with the disassembly and wouldn't mind testing if they'd work at range."
no subject
Besides. One contradiction stands out rather glaringly.
"Again?" Hands unclasp, spreading in a show of innocence. "I'm afraid your story doesn't quite line up. I haven't harmed anyone."
no subject
Not the same as the other Connor and therefore- acceptable to rub against.
Tony doesn't do much more than quirk a brow at the peacat's choice, but he doesn't warn him either. No reason. "Me? Not so much."
no subject
Humanoid shaped things is accurate. Still, the label doesn't quite match up to Stark's aggressive posturing. To the grudge, sharp and vicious, that had filled his language nearly from the start. It's possible, of course, that Stark was merely taking petty revenge toward a machine inconveniencing him. But that doesn't match much better to the current act. No, Connor's calculations are estimating a 62% chance of attachment. Some kind of sympathy towards the deactivated machine.
Deviants are dangerously misleading. He doesn't comment on the probability, only tilts his head past the animal, voice calm. "Very well. I'll be more discreet."
"How—" The creature reaches one paw towards his face, and Connor turns his head more sharply, a forearm coming up to push it back. "How did you know I was involved? Just the resemblance?"
no subject
"Alternatively- you could use your words instead of jamming a pipe in someone. Not as satisfying, I know, but a lot less likely to make trouble for the rest of the village." They're a community, after all, and keep an eye out or on each other out of boredom if nothing else. Having someone just jacking up the population on a whim? Not ideal. In the slightest. "Everyone else here knows about the 'no shank' rule. It wasn't that difficult."
no subject
"Someone—again?" He shoves the tail back. "I took apart a faulty machine. Just like you did. But I'm sure that won't be much of an issue." The words are pleasantly spoken, but there's a cold, analytical focus as he stares at Tony. Checking for the slightest micro-expression that might give more away.
"Unless there are any other deviants to deal with?"
no subject
He's never looked at it too hard but this? This could blow up in someone's face.
Best to just nip the potential buds before they get a chance to grow.
"You, tweedle-dee, and tweedle-dead are the only androids in the village where that term is a thing. First of your world. And, well. Only androids period." As far as Tony's aware- he's speaking truthfully. There are plenty of weird people but as far as he's seen? They're all people. Nothing like this jury rigged, faulty coded, twink faced sociopath.
no subject
...he doesn't know he's wrong.
The corner of Connor's mouth quirks up slightly. More than it should—but for the moment, he doesn't catch the lapse of self-control. There's a distracting buzz crawling through his processor, a warm, light feeling.
Satisfaction, he assumes.
"Then I'm sure we won't have any problems." There's just the slightest stress on we. Connor shifts as if to stand—and is brought up short by the weight now digging needle claws into his coat.
Right. The animal. He glances back to Stark.
no subject
Well shit. There must be someone else then. How to go about keeping them away from the line of fire without knowing who, exactly, they were or possibly outing them to the rest of the village (not that anyone gives a flying fuck except for this yahoo, they're alright with Liv and Venom, for fuck's sake) and-
Right that one weird-
Maybe?
Note to self, look into it.
Between one blink and the next Tony's focus has narrowed, his brows lifted, all innocence. "I think Elton's comfortable where he is. Why don't you relax a little while, do some people watching? Get to know your neighbors a little better seeing as you're stuck with them until you aren't."
no subject
In this gathering or this island. He needs to get back. To CyberLife, where new orders await him. To Detroit, where his predecessor's failures have already nearly brought the industry to a halt. It's been days since he lost contact with Amanda, and Connor's smile nearly slips—but somehow, the tight panic floats just out of reach. It's... strangely easy to dismiss. The android's eyes shift to the middle distance, LED flickering slightly as he checks over his processing logs. He's... confident?
...of course he is. He'll make it back.
First, of course, he needs to stand. Connor's gaze flicks back to meet the human's, expression calmly, coldly pleasant as he settles one hand pointedly atop Stark's pet. "I'm getting up now." His fingers curl, framing the shape of its small... fragile... head.
How much force would it take to move the creature? How much to cause irreparable damage? Less than 200 newtons, Connor thinks.
Stark can get it off him. Or he will.