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CHARACTERS: Steve Rogers + anyone
WHERE: The Bearings, Subspace,
WHEN: Day :011 and onward
SUMMARY: Open prompts and catch-all stuff
WARNINGS: nothing nothing

i. the mechanical menace (first come, first serve)

[ It's an odd pair that they make their way down a street in Delta Block. The android is about a head taller than Steve, and agitated. One of the reasons for that might be that the poor guy's missing both hands, and not because he didn't have any to begin with - exposed wiring trails down its wrists, both held forward like a supplicant - or out of habit, an assistant type model used to carrying something.

The other reason it seems so out of sorts has to do with Steve himself, who's carrying a bunch of groceries that were clearly meant for those missing hands. The bags aren't heavy, he doesn't struggle with them, but that doesn't stop the android from repeatedly trying to reach over and remove them from Steve's grasp. After the third attempt he stops, letting it lift both arms so that he can hook the bags at its elbows, securing them so that they have less of a chance of slipping.

Even with that done, he continues to walk along at its side. ]

ii. the arcade (multiple responses a-ok)

[ Bout it Out isn't something he's had much time for the past few days. Earlier in the week he'd 'made' himself an Avatar - for an artist his creativity's a little lacking, considering the damn thing looks like the generic copy the game automatically generates (it is). He practices by himself toward the back of the arcade, a plain staff in his Avatar's hand - moving slowly through the motions that Anakin had taught him back on the station to get a better feel for how it all translates into the holosphere.

Somewhere on the other side of the arcade a cheer bursts out. Not for a match - someone's tearing down a large poster of 'Kun-Kun' from the wall. ]

iii. back at the bearings (closed to parker)

[ Larann's broadcasts ends with an immediate flurry of anger across the digital realm. It's a mess of information to sift through the slow way, but he's gotten himself trapped in the comments section of one video and he can't seem to break out of it. It's culture shock, in part. The immediacy of Concordia combined with millions of voices demanding to be heard all at once is a dizzying effect, attention drawn in too many directions at once. Not unlike the Nest itself, and it's taken him the better part of a month to learn how to block all that out to some degree.

He just needs to focus.

There's a main screen in the common area where he's seated at a small table, a twenty-four hour news channel repeating the same handful of bombing related stories and anything remotely tangential. When it cycles back to a repeat of Larann's announcement for the sixth time he seems to lose his patience, using the interface device at his ear to mute the volume, forgetting that he's not the only one in the room. ]

iv. wildcard

(gimme a prompt and I'll roll with it!)

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Oh, hey.

[ Just a voice that comes from seemingly nowhere, though Petre really makes no more to be discreet among other hosts. The only reason he approaches Steve is because he recognizes his hair, that lanky figure practically the norm in these arcades. The smaller the shape, the bigger the avatar, sometimes.

Not his, though. Petre's looks exactly like he does, but monstrous features spread all over his hands, mouth, eyes. Steve will get the chance to see it eventually. If he looks around, he might see several other players looking displeased with the mere fact that they're looking at him. ]

You play here too?

Starting today. [ A beginner's beginner. He knows something about brawling - the first real type of fighting he learned was boxing, just remains to be seen if any of that transfers over to the game itself.

He turns, nodding at Petre, his gaze briefly sweeping over the rest of the arcade. The mood around here's tense, and it's not just the players. Steve himself isn't sure yet how he feels toward Petre. The kid's got an attitude, but he's just that - a kid. Maybe that's enough to excuse his destructive actions in the garden, this one time. ] You been practicing a lot?

[ Either Petre doesn't notice or doesn't care about the tension or the opinion Steve might still have of him, simply pleased to see a familiar face. Maybe he's finally getting the hang of being part of a family in the whacky station, though there are several people he would gladly chomp at still. But that's what family is like anyway. ]

I dunno, I just fight a lot. [ Does that count as practice when he isn't really learning anything? ] So that's your avatar? That's what they call them. Mine's pretty amazing.

[ He certainly sounds like a kid, except when he swears all over the place. ]

[ ~~You know what - cannibalism really isn't part of most families.........~~

Sounds like practice to him, and he gives a nod at the question. ] Yeah? What's it look like?

[ He's seen a few of the... fancier avatars that people made for themselves. Some of them have nice designs, some of them could use an editing hand.

Some of them are just plain bizarre. ]

[ it is too!! ]

Well, it's like me, but - like. With huge teeth, and my hands are huge claws.

[ huuuuge. ]

Wanna see? We could fight.

[ The image that comes to mind probably isn't what Petre's going for - an almost cartoony version of the kid with oversized hands (a bit more Mickey Mouse than werewolf) and some of those good old Nosferatu teeth. ]

A quick shrug. ] Sure. [ Why not? ] Let's see what you got.

[ Steve's already got his avatar loaded into the sphere, all Petre needs to do is add his (and maybe something fancier than the default map). ]

[ Petre produces a cheeky grin when Steve accepts, teeth digging lightly into his lower lip before he skips and steps over to the other end of their arena, connecting to the machine to load up his avatar. Just like he'd promised, his avatar is a mix of human and monster, like he stopped while transforming from one to the next. His teeth protrude right out of his mouth, eyes black like oil, and his fingers are elongated and dangerously sharp. ]

I'll go easy on you, don't worry.

[ Well, he didn't lie. Looks as described, if a little more imposing than he'd first imagined. ]

I'm not. [ Worried. He gives a wry grin. His avatar mimics his movements, weight shifting from one foot to the other a few times, testing out the synchrony between himself and his double. When both hands raise in front of him like a boxer, knees bent, it's clear that he's waiting for Petre to make the first move. ]

[ Conveniently for Steve, Petre is not a strategist. Soon as the match is on and he sees the other guy isn't going to make the first move, his avatar just goes ahead and lunges at him, mouth open, teeth bared and monstrous, ready to rip at the first chunk they can possibly dig into. ]

[ The interest that comes with it is far from being the one it's supposed to. She doesn't do it to follow the mission protocol. She doesn't do it because she cares. She has simply found a reason to keep herself in the game. If they don't know, well, then Parker has made it her mission to find out more. It is not any sense of loyalty that brings her to an investigation. Not one that is attached to what they are here to do.

She will do the bare minimum. If anything. Whatever that gets her to her own end. Not theirs.

The media is never a completely trustworthy source, but it's a better starting point than none at all. She stops in front of Steve's table, standing with her back to him (knows he's there, because it's damn impossible not to know, all that tug and pulsating and everything she is trying to block out, but it doesn't mean she can't ignore him). Crosses her arms in front of her chest, slow squint of her eye. Doesn't have the ear piece she needs, so she does the unthinkable - turns around to him. Gives him a long look. ]

If you're not using it. [ And she holds out her hand. Throw it here. ]

[ Oh - it's you. He meets her gaze with a downward twist of his mouth. Conchita looks to be in the same mood she was the other day when they met at the market. Somehow it reminds him of someone -

His mouth opens, confused by her not-quite-question - what's she want? After a second his hand raises to the device curled around his ear, giving her a questioning look. ]

Where's yours? [ Not accusatory, though maybe a little suspicious. If she plans on tossing it out the window or smashing it under her foot for him stepping on hers the other day, well, no - he's not about to hand it over to her. ]

[ Unfortunately for Steve, if he hopes to see ~~Conchita~~ Parker in any other mood, he will be in a constant state of disappointment.

She doesn't answer him, merely blinks slowly as a beat goes by after he poses his question. There is no sordid truth to it; Parker simply doesn't trust something that translates everything will not be a recording, incriminating device in case she finds out something she doesn't want to be broadcast (there is already the constant effort to put up walls around her mind). ]

Forgot it on the spaceship.

[ Look, he wasn't born yesterday. His gaze settles on her open hand and stays there for an equal amount of time, one side of his mouth twisting downward. ]

You sure you know how to use it? [ He shakes his head, turning his squinting gaze back on the screen. His hand raises to something invisible, and suddenly the volume returns, the newscasters continuing on with their commentary. ]

They haven't been saying anything new, you know. [ About the explosion. ] Just a lot of noise.

[ What is he expecting her to do with it? Run off? Please.

But she doesn't say anything of it, instead just staring at him for a while longer before rolling her eyes a little and turning around, back to him, to look up at the television. ]

It's only noise if you only listen to it as such. [ Dissecting information out of media boasting is something Parker (everyone in the Resistance, really) has learned to do. She crosses her arms over her chest, staring at the box. ] Don't listen to what you want. Find what you need.

[ Honestly? No, he doesn't expect her to run off. Even after their bad run in he's willing to give her another chance - they've got to live with each other, after all. But it's hard to trust someone that won't even give you her name, let alone a convincing answer to a simple question.

As she looks at the screen he glances over at her, frowning again. ] What're you looking to find?

[ He's curious. ]

Edited 2016-06-21 04:50 (UTC)

[ It doesn't look like she is going to answer him for a long time, back turned to him and quietly observing the television. Eyes darting, side to side, scanning all the images, filtering all the words. Listening to what is not being said is boring and hard work, but Parker has never shied away from such things.

Finally, she shifts slightly on her feet. ]

For the information that isn't there.

Edited 2016-06-21 22:08 (UTC)

[ That's... not helpful. His frown deepens. As far as official channels go it's the same reports. Looking at Extraspace, there's all kinds of information about the bombing, though that's only when using the term information very, very loosely. A lot of it is conspiracy theory. There's almost nothing that isn't being talked about somewhere.

His pause is almost equally long, then: ]

No one's claiming responsibility yet.

[ Almost. There is always something. Parker keeps her eyes on the rapidly changing images on the screen. Fingers slowly drumming on her arms. She tilts her head lightly at his words, though, so that's a good sign - that she's not totally ignoring him. ]

Which is a sign on itself, no?

[ See, he's learning already. Parker drops her arms and pulls her hood over her face, giving him a pointed look. Naturally, she would rather work alone, could probably do it, but having eyes on the back of your head is always helpful, especially in an unfamiliar environment. ]

One of the guys was released from the hospital, too. Maybe he knows something.

[ Intrigue, detective work - doesn't seem to him that he's got much experience in it outside of books, comics and the pictures. Not at the level that this mission's been asking for. Hasn't helped that he's been distracted the past week, or that he's got less and less certainty that they have any right to be meddling in this world's politics. There's been no sign of the enemy that brought them here.

He glances over at her again, studying her features. ]

How're we gonna find him?

[ The plural used in his words makes Parker lean her head back, eyebrow arched, picture perfect of a wordless excuse me? expression. ]

Oh, I'll find him. [ Makes sure she accentuates on the self. All she needs from him is, at best, a lookout. Unfamiliar territory. ] Tracking isn't hard. [ Well, it is, but it is a skill she has been using for over six years. ] What you're going to do isn't my problem.

[ Which is a really twisted, unsure and confusing way of saying that he can tag along as long as he doesn't get in her way, but Parker can never quite articulate those kind of feelings. ]

[ To his ears that twisty invitation sounds more like a dismissal. Back home he's a solo act when it comes to someone else sizing him up, he's not anyone's first pick for a partner. He keeps frowning back at her, uncertainty reading across his own features. ]

Sounds like a two person job. [ As though he knows. Everything's a two person job, at least. ] I doubt he's gonna be chomping at the bit to talk to a stranger.

[ Not to mention, she's got the demeanor of a particularly cranky mule. ]

[ To be fair, Parker would pick literally nobody as her partner, not here, not these people that all look very okay with having their brains prodded and picked apart and their thoughts broadcasted and invading others' minds.

Parker takes off the device off, throws it back at him, dismissal over nine thousand or something like that. She barely hears anything he's saying, and clearly ignores the comment about it being a two person job.

She does scoff at his suggestion that she is even going to talk to him. ]

Who said anything about even being spotted by him? [ That's not what surveillance is. ]

[ Jeez. Instead of doing an embarrassing juggling act he manages to catch it in one hand. It's the training he's been doing, combined with what the symbiote is doing to his body. The mind stuff has taken time to get used to, but he'd say it's worth it at least for how it's fixed the rest of him.

A beat, then a confused, suspicious look. ]

How you gonna get information from him if you don't talk to the guy?

[ Parker pulls the hood of the coat she is wearing up, sliding it over her head and framing her face so that it should be hidden enough fro surveillance cameras. Or, at least, as much as possible. She would be appreciative if she had her rebellion mask from back home but alas, she will have to make due.

She frowns at him, deciding whether she should draw him a picture or not (because she's so politically correct), but then decides against it because it would be way too much effort from her part. ]

You'll come to a conclusion soon enough. [ Or if not, well, then he's not really useful for what she has in mind. ]

[ The arcade is one more entry on the list of things Bellamy finds wholly alien about Concordia. He's only visited once before, very briefly, and immediately recoiled from the oppressive crush of the crowd and vivid light displays. The hardest thing about acclimating to Concordia, nevermind the intricacies of brood and nest, is the invasiveness of the noise on top of the consistent flutter of stray thought. But he makes it through the doorway today, one hand gripping the strap of his knapsack, white knuckles betraying his discomfort as he picks his way deeper into the arcade.

His attention catches on the destruction of the poster, the ugliness of the perpetrators' expression, before he turns away. He only catches a glimpse of Steve, accompanied by a flicker of his consciousness. Bellamy hasn't met him officially, not in person, but he picks his way through the arcade anyway, tamping down his discomfort and letting the sense of familiarity draw him in. ]

Hey, [ he says lamely, eyes flicking from Steve to the avatar projected in front of them. He hesitates a moment before continuing, ] How does it work?

[ Which is a more subtle question than Bellamy's initial thought, wondering whether or not Steve had heard the ruckus from the front of the Arcade, noticed the gleeful destruction of the poster and the sentiment behind it. ]

[ Steve's gotten slightly more comfortable with the way the Nest alter first meetings. If he had any distant cousins that he knew of, he imagines it's a bit like that - you that you're connected through some intangible bond, you know vague information about them in an almost secondhand way.

It's still awkward as hell at times, but that shared unsteadiness is another way to bond, whether they like it or not.

He turns to Bellamy, cocking his head to one side, and for a second his gaze shifts to a spot just over the other Host's shoulder, toward the front of the arcade. He's noticed. ]

You got your - [ His hand lifts to his ear, touching the interface device curled around it. ] That'll connect you. [ A one shouldered shrug. ] I'm still trying to figure out the rest.

[ Bellamy's hand lifts, mirroring Steve's motion, fingers sliding over the interface device that's gone mostly unused since Bellamy's arrived. He's hesitant to throw himself into anything technologically related. Some foolish part of him keeps waiting as if he's ever going to be able to check in with Raven and have her explain it to him, promise it's not going to blow up on him. ]

You want company while you work on it?

[ It's a way to ask if he's intruding without saying it outright. Bellamy's become more than aware of the way he's bleeding emotions and sensations. He lacks control, along with the lingering confusion about certain aspects of this planet. It's inconvenient for him, nevermind for the rest of the Nest.

He glances over his shoulder, back towards the front of the Arcade to gauge the mood of the pack of men there, try to decide whether or not the destruction of the poster's satisfied them or spurred them on to bigger feats of disrespect. ]

[ If Bellamy's mind bleeds at times, Steve's is quiet in comparison, muffled behind red bricks and cracked plaster walls. Not perfect by far, but practiced.

The hand at his ear lowers and he gives a nod - he doesn't mind company. The teenagers bark out laughter as someone - an attendant, makes a half-hearted attempt to break up the disturbance. ]

It's getting tense out on the street. [ Another nod at the scene before switching his attention back to the sphere where his avatar is loaded up. It's not just kids tearing down posters either, the train Steve rode here on today had some anti-synth graffiti painted along the doors. Extraspace's been littered with worse from both sides of the argument. Gives him a headache trying to read through most of it, easy to fall into the mob of angry and hostile commentators. ]

I know.

[ Steve's observation isn't unwelcome. It's nice to know this isn't all in Bellamy's head. He knows his paranoia is coloring his response to things; he's uncomfortable, hyperaware of his surroundings and constantly watching for trouble. The city is unfamiliar, but no one here is explicitly out to get him. Yet, anyway.

He moves to stand next to Steve, mimicking his stance, attempting to look like less of a complete novice. The pre-made avatar flickers into existence; it bears no resemblance at all to Bellamy. ]

There were posters torn down and scribbled on all over the streets. I keep seeing them.

[ Or running into similar scenes. People always looked to him, expectant, and Bellamy kept turning away, unwilling to even make a cursory effort for the sake of blending in. ]

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take 3, i am so gomen about my lateness i am an industrial sized garbage can

no worries, i will always waaaaait

ur 2 good

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