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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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 Posted: Thu Oct 21, 2010 6:45 pm
"People of the future will remember, her fate was something she brought upon herself"xxxxxxxxxxα v ε я y тyℓεя c ø ℓ ε The wall of machinery looked ominous, especially after everything that had happened. But it had not been connected to the same systems as the normal wall units, Avery's father had been into tinkering. This was his pride and joy, though ugly it was. He'd always said: "while mine may not be the handsomest, it'll last through the four horsemen, themselves!" And right he was. Avery tried, though, not to rely on it too much, as she had seen what happened when people relied on their machinery for everything. Where were all of those people, now? In the ground, dead and decaying.
The was momentary static before a male voice issued through the speaker, it was the stereotypical anchorman, whose tones were far from soothing-- but no one would ever call it unpleasant. The voice was pleasant, listing off the weather forecast as Avery dragged herself out of bed, her stomach already begging for food. She'd skipped dinner the night before, it wasn't safe to be out too late-- it wasn't as if it affected the machines, but she'd never had very good night vision.
Avery had long since put from her mind any idea that she could find other survivors. If there were any others, she was almost certain that she would be rejected by them. What had kept her alive, so long, had also been what separated her from the others. Really, it wasn't obvious-- hell, at a first glance it wasn't even noticeable. Hell, she looked like everyone else, but different. Somehow.
Avery shook the feeling of rejection, and started to ready herself for the day. Dressed, she put on shoes, and ran water to wash her face and brush her teeth. All the while, the male forecasters' voice was spouting on about weather and astrology. There were subtle changes from phrase to phrase, the only hint that each sentence was a different pre-recorded line. Radio was a thing of the past. Avery had seen or heard from another live human being in, maybe, a year and a half.
Though she never would've admitted it, she didn't prefer it this way. Avery dressed comfortably in a black tank top and dark cargo pants. Her weapon of choice was a pipe wrench, thirty-six inches in length. Under ordinary circumstances, it would've been a burden rather than a weapon, and she would've abandoned it upon first feeling its weight, but it had been her trusty sidekick since she'd found it, only a couple days prior.
"Sleep." Avery's voice rang from the tiny, tiled bathroom. What she had taken up as her residence was a studio apartment, but it was ugly. The paint, and wallpaper beneath that, had been chipped away along the entire main wall where the old unit had been taken out and her father's put in. Ordinarily, the landlord wouldn't have stood for that, but Avery's father was persuasive-- especially when he started waving cash around.
Avery pushed her feet into some shoes and headed for the front door, and at its opening the machine returned a call in the voice of her own father: "Have a nice day, Ty!" Avery allowed herself a smile, that lasted only as long as it took for her to close the door behind her, wielding her wrench as she moved to face the awful place that the city had become.
Avery tackled the stairs that led down to the broken streets of the city. All was entirely too quiet, for Avery's tastes. The eye of the storm. She stepped out onto the street. Her hair was a radiant blue, as it had been since she'd started dying it only a little before hell had broken loose-- it was a kind of familiarity that helped her to keep her sanity.
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Posted: Sat Oct 23, 2010 4:51 pm
 _____________________ C H A N D L E R
_____________________________________________________t h e _ D A R E D E V I L It was getting closer now, he could hear it. The mechanical whirring, ticking, and clicking of it's operating parts.. The image of the beast pieced itself together in his mind and his stomach tightened with anticipation, his fingers wrapped themselves tightly around the aluminum slugger. He could already feel the adrenaline pushing through his veins, preparing him for the fight. It would turn the corner any second now..
If anyone else was still alive, they wouldn't dare get close to the machines, let alone engage them. If anyone had a shred of common sense they would stay clear out of the way when those mechanical monsters came calling. Well, that’s what he assumed anyway, and seeing as how he had yet to find another survivor, a second opinion was kind of out of the question. One would figure that the man would take better care of himself considering he might as well be the last man on earth. A grin covered his lips, playing the movie I Am Legend in his mind. Will Smith made being the last man on earth look so cool. He drove expensive cars through a city as fast as he wanted and went out whenever he wanted and no one ever got the best of him because he was such a badass. Chandler frowned- ******** Will Smith for the misconceptions he'd created about being the last man on Earth. Life here came short of a fairy tale. About 1,685,439 miles short.
Chandler wasn't stupid, Chandler didn't lack common sense. He was well aware of the reality of the situation and he knew the risk he took each time he jumped in- he just didn't give a damn. What the ******** did it matter? It's not like he had anything left to lose anymore. He knew he wouldn't be able to destroy the entire machine with the slugger- he did, however, know that if he hit the machine on the bottom left side of it's head, he could damage the tracking chip. If he could do that, then the hunk of metal wouldn't be able to call for backup, which would make it exponentially easier to take out.
Suddenly, the world went silent. Chandler felt a terrifying chill run down his back, Do you know I’m here..? He slid his foot over the rubble silently, inching his way closer to the edge. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, his knuckles turning white because of how tight his grip on the slugger was. A minute had gone by and there was still silence- what the hell was it doing? Or not doing? Did the machine shut down? He doubted it, but slowly he pushed his head past the corner of the wall, “Oh, fuc--”
Chandler ducked just in time. His heart hammered in his chest and the fragments of brick and concrete seemed to fall to the floor in slow motion. That stupid machine almost got the best of him. He scrambled away from his place beneath the machine, the slugger in front of him as a defense. His body was tense, muscles coiled up and ready to lunge forward. His eyes caught a glimpse of the hole in the concrete wall and an involuntary shudder coursed through him- he could see right into the building. To think his head had been in that exact location seconds ago..
His green eyes narrowed and his body pushed forward an attack towards the machine, his arms swung forward and hit the machine in the lowerer right hemisphere of it's 'head'. He grinned when he saw the dent in it's exterior, but the realization that his weapon was now bent and useless did well to wipe the grin off of his face. Luckily, there was a pip lying on the floor from when the machine had smashed the wall. He picked it up and charged at the machine, driving the jagged end of the pipe through the machine, allowing him to hold it on the wall. Thankfully, these machines were poorly built. Unfortunately for him, these machines were poorly built. A poorly built machine meant that it was easier to deactivate, but it also meant that it was erratic and violent. Chandler moved behind the machine and his fingers felt for the soft spot which covered it's shut down switch. He struggled to hold it in place, his mind too focused on finding the switch to notice the arm reaching up to his neck.
He would have cursed loudly if he could have, but due to the fact that a mechanical clamp was was wrapped around his throat breathing was hard enough on it's own. His vision was getting hazy and he was seeing double. He knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer, he had to find that damn switch. His fingers were pressing in everywhere they could until he heard the subtle click that caused the whirring to stop and machine to loosen it's grip around his neck. He fell to the floor in a slump, his chest heaving as he selfishly drank in oxygen.
The alley was silent moments after the encounter. It made Chandler increasingly uncomfortable. He would have missed the sound of the closing door had his surroundings not been so quiet. His muscles tensed, once again ready to fight. He pulled the disgusting, rust covered pipe from the machine and he grimaced. He was going to have to invest in a new weapon. With silent footsteps, he approached where he heard the noise come from. His eyes landed on a can that was lying on the floor and he kicked it out into the alley, waiting for whatever it was to approach. He hoped that it would be an animal, but he knew that was a stupid thing to hope for-- animals didn't use doors.
He turned the corner and charged with a shout, but when his eyes landed on the feminime frame, his body skidded to an abrupt stop. Her bright blue hair.. her lightly tanned skin.. He couldn't believe it.. She was.. human? Human and alive? She was.. “...a sur..vivor...?”
[ o o c ] sorry it took me so long to post. D: it's not even a good post at that. DDDD: i'll get better though, promise(: [ / o o c ]
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Oct 23, 2010 5:17 pm
"People of the future will remember, her fate was something she brought upon herself"xxxxxxxxxxα v ε я y тyℓεя c ø ℓ εIt was a matter of prioritizing. She hadn't eaten yet, this morning, and the house was nearly out of food. Since their wall unit hadn't been connected to EleTRIKo, there had never been any deliveries. Not unless they called for them specially, which they had never done. There was something about the grocery store that her father had loved, and always it had been Avery's job to manually load them into the unit. It was an unpleasant job, but her father didn't much care for the crawl space. There had been many fights about it, back when Avery was a selfish, argumentative adolescent.
There were plenty of places to find food, it only happened to be that her home was not one of them. There were stores, and there were other people's homes-- though sometimes, what could be found was unfavorable, but that went for anything, really. The truth was, everyone was dead, and they couldn't just disappear after they died, after all, machines didn't eat. They fed off of the sun during the day, and ran on their reserves at night. That meant that the corpses were left to decompose in peace. When her father had turned up all mangled and bloody, she and her brother had burned him-- it seemed barbaric to simply toss away his body for the bugs and wild animals that would have it.
Avery's brother wasn't around, anymore. He lasted a whole year after the initial "event". Needless to say, there was no one to help her get rid of that body-- that was, there wouldn't have, had she ever found it. Avery was tough, though, and that was the sole reason that she was still alive. She reminded herself of that daily. Her steps brought her quietly to the street, where she surveyed the road suspiciously. The machines, some of them were crafty-- but they were few and far between. Often, Avery much more expected to be attacked by a child's toy than anything capable of lying in wait.
The soft whir of gears caught her by surprise, though it shouldn't have. She cursed herself for not being more ready. It was quiet, maybe far away-- whatever it was, she knew that she could not see its cause. Her hands wrung the handle of the wrench, but the whirring grew silent. Weird. Beyond weird. It could be a trick, she tried to remind herself-- though every part of her mind doubted it. Something pretends to have gone away, or shut down, maybe due to a lack of power or some mechanical problem, then maybe she drops her guard and it attacks.
She was no fool, and she knew better than to take her changes against any machine, unless she absolutely had to. In the past, she'd only beaten down very minor things-- tops, mostly. They were delicate, they were meant as children's play things-- but the tips of their legs were sharp, and given the chance they could slit your throat. Avery had had one as a child, she'd named it Stephen. Tops were, essentially, large, smooth eggs atop six thin legs that folded out from the shell. Their AI was pitiful, and they could only manage a few commands, and only one at a time. All of the commands were programed by eleTRIKo, and were therefore unchangeable. As her father found, there was no tinkering with them. To him, they were boring. Stupid, and outdated things. Funny, the way they had out-lasted most of the population of the city.
Standing around wasn't going to make it come out of hiding, so Avery did the only thing she could think to do. She continued on. There was a quick footfall, and Avery was lifting the heavy wrench in self defense-- there was a non-mechanical shout and before any defensive action could take place, her attacker skidded to a stop. It was a guy, though Avery wasn't entirely trusting enough to lay down her weapon. She'd survived by distrusting.
He seemed just as shocked as he. "...a sur...vivor...?" Was his only question, though Avery could think of a million to shoot at him, that second. Where had he been? How had he survived? Had he seen--? Quite the contrary escaped her lips, though, as she quickly collected herself, and the corners of her lips turned upward in a small smile. "That's what they call me." It was a stupid answer, of course, but there weren't proper words for this particular situation. Always, she'd hated the idea that there were other people around, maybe banded together-- and doing better than she was, but she found herself almost glad to find another human being. Every shred of logic she had left in her mind told her, though, that it wouldn't last. She'd met survivors before, sure it was forever ago, but still-- they'd never stuck around. And why would they? She couldn't be trusted.
[OOC: S'all good. Not every post can be your best, am I right? Sides, I thought it was pretty good. C=]
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Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2010 7:46 am
"How do I live without people? I dunno."
Miguel Brava-Marion Dieciocho  There was no difference between the light and the dark when Miguel opened his eyes, being met with nothing but black. Which made sense, considering that the windows and doorway were barred shut with thick metal and the lights were turned out.
A yawn passed through his lips as he brought himself erect, slugging his legs over the side of his bed. Though there was not even the smallest semblance of light, Miguel knew that he wore a plain white T-shirt that he had ripped the sleeves off of and a pair of sweat pants. There were no covers on the bed, though the air in the room was frigid. He could take it, he always had. It was part of his Filipino Warai blood, or whatever it was his mom used to say. "You're a born fighter! That's why I named you after the angel Michael!" But his name was Miguel, he would remind himself. Which, he guessed, probably made him some cheaper generic brand of angel. Brilliant.
He stood up from the bed, walking to the wall. He'd memorized everything in his room, from the number of steps he needed to take to get to the door, the bathroom, the metal pipe and accompanying rope on the wall. And, in this case, his light switch. With a flick, the lights came on, blinking once or twice then spraying the room with xenon light. His room was considerably tidy; the white-tiled floor had no accumulted dirt or dust, there was nothing to be found under his bed, and his one onyx desk was arranged neatly with a stack of paper weighed down by a smooth stone the size of his fist and a large plastic box of pencils.
Miguel walked over to a full body mirror that hung a few inches away from the floor. He looked just as he did every morning: His tan skin that was light from staying inside. Under his dark brown eyes bags that darkened and held themselves in to form dark circles. He was a middle height, not really short or tall, with muscle starting to define through his skin on his arms, legs, and chest. Wavy raven hair covered his head, falling in long bangs over his face and tickling the back of his neck. He took in some air and let it out. "Good morning, cheap angel."
The man now set about his normal morning routine, dropping down to the floor and doing push-ups. These would be followed by jumping jacks, crunches, and some punching bag sparring. He had to keep his stamina up, especially with what went on outside. So many impossible things, things that were meant for story books and teenage fiction... happening and falling upon the human race like giant daminoes on hapless ants. Miguel had been of the opinion (before the turn) that machines were simply revolutionary in the industry. To think that such a metaphor would evolve to this proportion was something that had never even haunted his dreams. He owned several Comp-Bots before they turned, computers that could walk to you when called upon and even attach themselves to the user as backpacks. They were one of many of the great inventions of the electronic age, one that was proclaimed by many to be as important as fire or the wheel. Unfortunately, it and a few other trendy gadgets became a little smarter and more dangerous than a fire or a wheel.
Not that the destruction of mankind meant much to him. Miguel had become an urban recluse even before the conquering. so many years ago, he had paid in full for his small secluded fortress of a home, preparing it originally for another disaster... though that's another story.
When his workout was over, he started into his cool-down, not wanting his body to get sore. Then he heard it. The clanking of gears. "Those." This was it. He'd hidden in his house, his impregnable base, for a time that would have made an agoraphobic sick. And now, he was ready to leave. To the clothes he was wearing, white, self-torn sleeveless and sweat pants, he added a gray hoodie, a black tennis visor, and a pair of socks and solid black basketball sneakers. He strapped the rope over his shoulder like a sash across his chest and gripped his metal pipe. "Out."
The first steps out into the real world were almost blinding. He took one look at the sky and immediately scrunched his eyes back up, dropping his head. "Damn." After a few seconds he slowly opened his eyes, the light still stinging. "Where?" He spun his head about looking for signs of moving metal parts. Nothing. "Aw." Miguel slumped where he stood. So many years of waiting, only to lead to... That was when he heard it. He almost didn't recognize it, having listened to himself for so long, but... it was someone else's voice. "People...?" his curiousity enticed him to step a little closer around the corner to see what it was people were like.
"Hm?" He was surprised. He'd expected people to have evolved some while he was inside, but to his disappointment, they were as normal as ever. Well, perhaps the blue hair of the female was natural. That might have made it better for him. He stuck his head out from the corner of a wall across the street, moving as stealthily as he could from pplacement to placement. Miguel finally stuck his head out from behind an abandoned car, spying a little too obviously on them. "How do people that are allergic to chocolate live without Thin Mints?" [[ooc - Lackin' the tools I need right now to make cooler stuff, but this'll be about what my posts are lookin' like. I'm not sure what's large or small for you guys, so I just did a guesstimate of information to follow XP.]]
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Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2010 10:17 pm
_____________________ C H A N D L E R
_____________________________________________________t h e _ D A R E D E V I L His jaw fell slack for a moment while he have her a second glance. He didn't know whether or not to trust her. He'd been living here for nearly three years on his own an he hadn't seen a single human. Why would there be one now? Maybe those machines had gotten smarter, making androids that were so human in appearance that real humans would be automatically drawn to them in their desparation. Well, that was clever, wasn't it? Making the survivors come to their own death instead of chasing after them? He had to admit it very well was. He wasn't impressed though, and the shock of seeing a human face gave way to paranoia. Could this female be trusted? Chandler would be sure to find out. His hands gripped the pipe tightly when he noticed her defensive stance, and he stood to his full height of six feet, two inches.
He watched as her eyes glinted, making it seem as if she was as surprised to see him as he was her. His eyes swept over her body once more, analyzing her. She looked nothing like Lienna. His wife had been a delicate blonde beauty. Smart, caring, a wonderful wife and mother. Her hair was always kept in a loose, curly bun and her outfits were more indie hipster than anything else. He fought back the bitter memories of his wife and son-- both were gone now, and even though he missed them, he couldn't let them slow him down. His attention was brought back to the young female -was she young? he didn't know, she looked it- in front of him when she spoke.
"That's what they call me." She said in a completely nonchalant way. As if seeing other survivors was normal for her--- was it normal? Were there more? It was like someone had opened the flood gates and now an ocean of questions was spewing into his mind. This was a little too good to be true. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. A thin, unpleasant line. His brows furrowed together in frustration and a breath escaped him, "They. So you mean there are more of us? Or are you just a new model?" The statement held more paranoia than an actual accusation. He didn't care though, he couldn't afford to feel bad. He couldn't afford to let his guard down and fall for this scam-- assuming that's what it was.
The sudden rustling nearby got his attention. His eyes drifted over the mess until they landed on a car, but more importantly, the thing on the car that shouldn't have been there. Of course, why wouldn't it be another human? How convenient.. Unless.... His eyes drifted over to the blue haired girl in front of him and he eyed her with suspicion. He was right! There was no way in hell he could have gone three years without meeting a single survivor and then meet two in one day. There was no ******** way, it was all a little too good to be true, and as life usually held: if something was too good to be true, then it wasn't not true. These two were no more human than he was machine. He frowned and angled himself so both of them were in his line of sight. "Get out from behind that car!" He shouted at the poorly hidden figure, "I already know you're there!"
His green eyes snapped back to the girl, clearly unhappy. "Is he one of yours too? No, wait. Let me guess, 'you've never seen him before' right? Do you really think I'm stupid. There's no way in hell I can go three years without seeing a single damn survivor and then all of the sudden meet two in a ******** day. What are you playing at?"
[ o o c ] It's short D: I've been busy, but I found time to crank this out because I didn't want to keep you waiting forever. I hope it doesn't seem rushed. [ / o o c ]
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Posted: Mon Oct 25, 2010 3:32 am
"People of the future will remember, her fate was something she brought upon herself"xxxxxxxxxxα v ε я y тyℓεя c ø ℓ εOnly after, and by only after she meant only after the other man lowered his weapon and stood at his full size did she do the same, and slowly. Where he had lowered his defensive stance, he put a whole new one when his tone of voice took a bitter, guarded tone. Ouch, was it that obvious? Avery wasn't machine where it really counted, and though she was mostly made of metal, there were no new models. He was a little more than half right. A small frown played 'cross her lips, as she responded: "Well, maybe I ought to go, then."
Avery was in the process of turning to leave, when he-- what had he said his name was? Oh, but he hadn't. The first guy yelled out to a second guy, who was crouched behind a car, looking extremely suspicious. Two people? Now, what were the odds of that? It seemed extremely possible that the three of them were the only people left in the city, everyone else was dead or run away before the barriers went up.
Aloud, the first guy mimicked her shock. Avery turned back to him. Fine. If he wanted to be that way, then so be it. "Did you pick up a lucky penny, today?" She asked, almost a little sarcastically, she didn't like being called one of them, and she wasn't afraid to show the way it affected her. In fact, she hadn't been accused of being on their side in two years, since she found the last group of survivors-- they left her behind, and now they were all dead. Not her fault. She hadn't killed them, but she almost wished she had. Show them how right they were.
"Or maybe you think you can take us both?" Avery didn't lift her weapon, after all, while she was provoking the man-- she couldn't be sure who was faster. Probably, this was a horrible, terrible, awful idea. Best she cut it out before he actually decided to do something about it. "We agreed to meet here and bring you down, and then head over to the market because we people-bots run on imperishables."
Avery's stomach growled softly, reminding her of her hunger. In any situation similar to this, she would've just walked away, but she couldn't. Not even to prove a point. What if she walked away, and then never saw another human being ever again? What if she got six steps away and was attacked by six or seven tops, who all went to the market afterwards for imperishables? Well, that would've been ironic. But it also would've been a horrible way to die. With the last two people in the city hating her.
A smile lit up her features, and she offered it to the other two guys. She was in a pickle. She'd just incriminated herself, and been a b***h-- but she didn't have the guts to walk away. "I'm Avery Cole, and it's nice to meet'cha." But nobody could play this off like it was all her fault! No! He, that first guy, had started all of this, and it was the other man's misfortune which only worsened the situation!
Avery, the poor girl, was totally innocent! She was only leaving her home to find something yummy for breakfast, and she stumbled upon another survivor. And when a person like her flashed her personality so nonchalantly, it had an awful tendency to cause problems. That couldn't possibly be played out as if it were her fault, either. After all, she'd spent two years talking to a computer, and you could talk any way you like to a computer-- it didn't care. So, she suspected, why would people? But, as it turned out, they did. Awful luck on her part, grand luck on the other guy's, if he'd only just accept that.
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Oct 27, 2010 1:02 am
"How do I live without people? I dunno."
Miguel Brava-Marion Dieciocho Miguel's expression scrunched up as the man exploded on him. Having lived in his quiet dark home for so long... he'd become weak, even with all of his training. He keeled backwards, clutching his head as the man's voice blasted through his skull. "Ahhh!! Stop!!" When he did, Miguel stood up from behind the car, grasping his head and massaging it. "You're kind of... really loud, mister..." Mister? What kind of word was that? The kind of word that a child would use, and a polite one at that. But he couldn't help it. He'd cut himself off from the world and its changing euphemisms, left with the speech of a much younger person. He stepped out from behind the car and towards them, raising his head to reveal his face from under his visor.
Now that he was closer he could make out their features more clearly. The man was a little taller than him, but didn't seem as threatening as his voice sounded. At least Miguel didn't find him that threatening. He switched to the girl. Her blue hair almost stung his eyes with the flash of color, making him squint some as he looked. The wrench in her hand caught his eye, as did the metal baseball bat in the man's hand. They were all armed, though they didn't seem to have contacted or even known each other beforehand. Miguel wasn't about to be the one who was caught unaware. He gripped his metal pipe in one hand and stuck his other hand in his pocket, still looking down. "I-I'm... I'm M-Mikey." He stuttered a bit; he had't used full sentences in so long. "I-I'm... not with her... b-but I'm not a robot, h-honest." He cleared his throat, feeling an itch in his unused vocal chords. "I-Is there... any more machinery w-walking around...?"
That was what had caught his attention first. Though there were the usual piles of scrap here and there, the sounds from earlier didn't seem to come from anything around this way. He shrugged, though the reason didn't wasn't clear to the man or the girl. He was fine with there being no machinery. Less work for him. Miguel finally turned to the girl again, a soft smile curling the ends of his lips. "Y-You don't look like a... r-robot at all. Y-You're a girl, right?" [[OOC: Yes, it is short in comparison to the last post.]] "How do people that are allergic to chocolate live without Thin Mints?"
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Posted: Wed Oct 27, 2010 8:54 pm
_____________________ C H A N D L E R
_____________________________________________________t h e _ D A R E D E V I L Chandler frowned and his grip on his weapon tightened. He was right. They were machines in human skin. Of course, there was the possibility that she was joking, the sarcastic undertone of her remarks told him that she was but what did it matter? A confession was a confession; that girl had dug her own grave. And the boy.. His attention was suddenly brought back to the girl before his criticism could attack the other. She flashed her teeth at him in an expression that left him baffled until his mind registered the expression as a smile. He could not believe that he had almost forgotten what one had looked like—it really had been too long since he held the company of others. A sigh pushed past his lips and his shoulders relaxed when she introduced herself. What was wrong with him? These were the first two people he had interacted—more like seen!—in three years. He should not be acting like a paranoid a**. There was no point in gaining enemies when they were probably the only ones left. Either way— meeting two people in one day? There was no way this could be a coincidence.
The odd reaction of the younger male confused him more than anything else. Loud? He wasn’t being loud, a little hasty and rash with his vocabulary, sure, but considering the distance between them, Chandler shouldn’t sound that loud to the boy. And ‘mister’? What was he, a seven year old? He looked too old be using language like that. Chandler couldn’t help but notice that the boy was stumbling over his words a lot, as if he wasn’t used to holding conversations with anyone. Actually, none of them should be. Chandler was saved because he had an annoying habit of talking to himself (one that his wife often teased him for) which had gotten progressively worse after the rest of the world vanished. He wondered what Avery’s saving grace had been, but he didn’t ask. Not yet, anyway. All of that would come with time.
“No, no. I don’t think there are anymore around here, but they can be pretty tricky. From what I’ve seen, they’re not really too keen on sharing areas and there’s usually one of those things per block. I already deactivated the one that usually patrols this area.” He could not help but grin at his word choice. He said patrolling instead of terrorizing. It seemed appropriate, though. Terrorizing meant that there was something around to terrorize, patrolling was more of a fitting term.
“You’re a girl, right?” He had to suppress a laugh at that one; had this kid been living under a rock? Of course, she was female. Then again, Chandler could have taken the boy’s question at linear context. Maybe he meant human, he could not be sure. One way or another, just standing around was starting to make the man irritable and anxious. He had learned from experience that it was never good to stay in one place for too long.
”My name is Chandler. And not to be rude or anything, but I can’t exactly say it’s a mutual feeling. Maybe it’ll change, who knows. Right now, all I know is that I’m hungry as hell and we need to get out of plain sight.” There was something that told Chandler that they would be a highly dysfunctional group and it was that lingering feeling that led to his surprise when he offered they go together. Okay, so maybe he didn’t come right out and say, “Hey, you guys, come with me, we need to get out of here!” but in Chandler-speak that’s what he had meant. If they caught on, then that was great. If they didn’t.. oh well. He was not about to ask again, especially after his initial reaction to them. They probably thought he was some kind of a paranoid freak.
[ o o c ] it’s all good(: quality over quantity, you know? [ / o o c ]
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Oct 28, 2010 5:25 pm
"People of the future will remember, her fate was something she brought upon herself"xxxxxxxxxxα v ε я y тyℓεя c ø ℓ εMickey, that's what he said his name was, looked as if he hadn't seen the sun in the greater part of his life. It wasn't so much that the kid was pasty, as his choice of words. Of course, all of them were just as unpracticed, Avery assumed. She'd been fortunate enough to have her father as, well, her father, she'd had something to talk to, even if it was nothing in comparison. Bleak thoughts returned to Avery, despite all of the reassuring words she'd always heard, at least, she'd always heard before the few survivors she had come across in the first year after, well, wasn't it obvious? It was exactly what she should've expected out of them, but rather she received only criticism and distrust.
Everything in her mind told her to spare herself the disappointment, and to simply walk away. But she couldn't, no, she couldn't even make herself. These were the first people she'd found in what seemed like forever, and she missed human interaction so much that it almost hurt, thinking about it being torn away from her again. Mikey asked about the machinery, and turned his gaze back on Avery. He stated the obvious, and asked worst. In ordinary circumstances, she would've felt some obligation to be offended, or surprised, or disgusted. She couldn't even make herself feel that, anymore.
Avery offered him a smile, as cheerful as she could muster up on the topic. "Maybe not anymore, I don't think. When was the last time you've seen a girl heft a pipe wrench?" Her laugh was musical, and only as humorous as she could make it. What kept her alive was probably her spirits, and she worked damn hard to keep them up. But it was true enough. After three years, though, if Avery had not gotten herself some muscle, she wouldn't have survived. She was built like a girl, minus her relatively cocky attitude and bold appearance, she could've been any damsel in distress-- more and more, though, she was proving that she was no such thing, and would not be relegated to such a position.
Chandler answered about the machines, he'd deactivated the one that patrolled the area. It was carefully selected language, Avery noted, and suddenly she went all serious again. To survive, she had learned to make the change quickly, and with minimal trouble. In the same even tones, she responded, "It won't belong before the others realize it's stopped sending back." She added coolly.
They'd all been introduced, and it was obvious that Chandler still didn't trust them. Funny, the way the human mind warped as soon as it had been isolated for a while. Sure, Avery could admit that she was probably no more trusting than the others, but at least she had the decency to put up some kind of front. He said he was hungry, and they needed to get out of plain sight. They? It was obvious what was implied. Every connected synapse, and every electrical pulse told her that it was a bad idea, not just a bad idea, it was a horrible idea.
She'd hardly made it away with her life, last time, they'd been so angry. And how long could she hide it? The words were on her lips, burning the tip of her tongue, and every part of her mind designed to think like a human was protesting. She didn't want to be by herself, anymore. She didn't want to leave, and she didn't want them to leave. Safety in numbers, except in her case, but she almost didn't care. She opened her mouth to speak the words her mind had prepared for her: Then maybe we should go our own ways, I can't afford to be slowed down by someone with one eye tied to my hands.
That, needless to say, was not what came out. "Then maybe we should go, I'd hate to meet its friends." This encounter was doomed to be short, she could lie forever, and there were just too many ways that she could be revealed. But for as long as she could, she'd hang onto it. "I know of a good grocery store, they did almost everything manually. It should be pretty safe."
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Posted: Sun Nov 07, 2010 5:51 pm
"How do I live without people? I dunno."
Miguel Brava-Marion Dieciocho "Avery and Chandler, huh? Cool!"
Miguel had finally gotten the hang of his voice, though he still lacked the contemporary vernacular of the others. He would adjust with time, but for now, his speech would be so, and listened on to the conversation. At the reply from Avery that she wasn't much of a girl, he responded with bright laughter, something he hadn't tried in ages.
"Nah, I've seen what a girl looks like, and you can't fool me! You're prettier than me or Chandler, so you have to be a girl!"
But she was right as far as the wench went. All of them holding their devices... none of them made sense together, and robots would have been an easy solution to the confusion. But seeing as they were going to be alone for a long while... a loooonng, LOOOOOONG while, then it seemed pretty stupid to turn down something that hadn't tried to kill him quite yet. When he heard mention of the machines and their standard positions, he froze. The stuttering continued
"Th-There's more?"
How many more of them were there? He'd hoped that when he came out, there would be one huge machine, a single monster with a weak pont, and he would find it and bring down the Goliath. But now the situation in his head was switched: Now they were the single normal people, while there were several hundred Goliaths out there. His dreams faded into the cold steely rust of reality, a stelly rust made only more ironic by the killing machines that surrounded them, though even the machines didn't know themselves that they did. Hopefully, they'd be able to keep it that way. As Chandler suggested, Miguel nodded largely.
"Y-Yeah, we should go. You guys go ahead, I'll be at your side the whole time. Just please don't leave me behind..."
If there was one thing that he was not about to experience againn, it was having to leave society a second time. Miguel He would stay with these two in the wreckage of the city now. [ooc: And once again, so sorry for kinda disappearing on you guys. gonk ] "How do people that are allergic to chocolate live without Thin Mints?"
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Nov 20, 2010 5:56 am
"People of the future will remember, her fate was something she brought upon herself"xxxxxxxxxxα v ε я y тyℓεя c ø ℓ εMickey was just like an overgrown kid. Under normal circumstances, Avery would've thought that was great-- but it was potentially dangerous. He seemed shocked that there were more, and she whole-heartedly hoped he wouldn't prove to be more trouble than he was worth.
She was thinking cold-heartedly. How much trouble was he worth? How much were any of them worth? They were human lives, and perhaps they were the last in the city, their lives were worth any amount of trouble. Avery had spent something like three years without seeing another human being, it was easy to start thinking more like a machine than herself-- it seemed to work so well for them, and it had helped her survival in her time alone.
Avery rested the wrench on her shoulder, a much more comfortable position for it. She didn't want to scare Mickey by telling him that, yes, there were more-- with the parts of all those machines they could plate the city in steel, and there were more being made as they spoke. There was no doubt that those rabid things would outlive this branch of the human race. But it wouldn't have been advisable to tell him that, so instead Avery offered him a smile, and an easy: "yeah, a couple."
Mickey told them to go ahead, saying he would be right behind them. Then he said something that further lowered Avery's expectations of him. He asked them not to leave him behind. It was a sensible request out of someone who hadn't seen people in years, and may not again after they parted ways, but somehow Avery could imagine her father yelling at her for saying anything like that. At the cost of what? That's what he would yell, how much is too much? Don't slow us down, and you won't be left behind. He would say that, and Avery would be hurt and feel selfish. She saw no reason in similarly crushing Mickey, though. "Promise I won't."
Of course, Avery couldn't make that same promise for Chandler, though, and she highly doubted that he would make it himself. It was obvious what he cared about, and that was himself-- though she would be lying to claim any different. These people were nothing to her, she didn't know them, and she couldn't be asked to risk her life for theirs. The human life was worth much, sure, but theirs were worth no more than hers. And she couldn't be asked to die for strangers.
Avery returned her gaze to Chandler, offering him that same cocky smile that she seemed to so favor. "If you don't mind, I think I'll take the lead." She told him in those same cool tones, and offered him a lazy salute. With that, and her wrench she hefted over her shoulder, she turned back toward the main street. She knew exactly where the grocery store was, and maybe the others didn't-- that was more than reason enough to take the lead, though she couldn't say that she was trying to cast off the girlish stereotype that had been thrust upon her.
Hell, she could definitely take care of herself. She could probably heft twice as much as both, or either, of the guys she had made her company. Of course, it would be a horrible mistake for her to flaunt that, as she would certainly be rejected. Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to seem too independent, or too able-bodied, she didn't want a repeat of her last human encounter. One which had ended, very nearly, in bloodshed. And they had not nearly been so untrusting as Chandler.
As soon as she was back on the street, Avery stood up straighter. When before she had seemed cocky and laid-back, she was now disciplined, militant even. Her eyes scanned quickly the streets before she moved forward, her grip tightened on the handle of the wrench. Chandler had disabled the thing for that corner, that meant that they were only so safe, and only for a short amount of time, in that block. Their time was probably up, which would make that particular corner far more dangerous when others swarmed in to take over.
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Posted: Sat Nov 27, 2010 10:22 pm
 xxxxxxxxx ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx→ ☋ [[ Lee ]]
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx→ ☊ [[ The Wandering Droid ]] ๑￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ๑
Sleep for an android was an interesting concept. Lee had never experienced the deadened hours of inactivity before and found it… inefficient. His body didn't need rest. At the Company he would have been awake all night, switching between caretakers and scientist changing places with those who were going home, being worked on or helping out. Sleep was entirely too wasteful.
Though... he vaguely recalled the imagery from the random firing of neurons that had manifested itself into a dream. He liked it. Dreaming was… interesting. Intriguing. It was any and all possible combination's of sensor neural input flashing in his head- and then his own subconscious trying to make sense of it all. But he was rather bored with it- objectivity tended to ruin most of the creative processes he possessed. He did, however, enjoy the rays of sun that called him to attention.
'Waking' was different for Lee as it was for a human- In the brief few moments before one truly awakens, they are plagued with anonymity and amnesia- for the android, he immediately picked up just as much electrical information as he had the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. A humans resting heart rate was approximately 80.02 beats per minute. Lee only knew that because of a wounded man he had taken care of a few weeks back, having found him wounded and tried to heal him as much as he could with his vast knowledge of medical science. Still it had not been enough, and after calculating what would be the best form of disposal for the body, he had decided to merely dig a large hole and bury the man, as was a traditional thing to do for when humans died. He had felt nothing for him of course, but it had felt... Processing.... sad, to see him go. Lee had been with a caretaker and the company before it went under, a caring older man who wanted nothing more than a companion who he could tinker with their insides. Lee had no other choice, but after an undetermined amount of time, he came to... like the human. He didn't not like humans to begin with. They were capable, interesting specimens and Lee loved nothing more than to watch them.
Which was what he had been doing for the past few weeks. There was a grocery store he frequently hung around, and every now and then, someone would come strolling along to look for food. He had yet to engage anyone, afraid of what they might say. Their first probable instinct about him not being human would no doubt sent them on the offensive, not giving him time to explain himself. By looks alone they would be very suspicious. Tall, fit, blond hair, blue eyed. He didn't have the human look of a scavenger who had been roaming a desolate city. He looked as if he were a college boy coming from class. Well, except for his outfit. Lee had lost the plain gray shirt he had been issued by his master, now just roaming around in nothing more than a pair of faded blue jeans, not even shoes to go on his feet. But that didn't bother him, his feet were indestructible, just like the rest of him. Lee was one from the first generation of androids, the ones that the company hadn't skimped on the money to make. He was the epitome of technological development. A multimillion dollar project that was a huge success. Of course no one at the time had the means to purchase him. He was far to expensive and the scientists weren't about to give a discount on him. He looked, acted, spoke, and seemed completely human, when he wanted to. Generally he would talk and analyze everything, giving him away. Human contact and interaction was crucial to building his understanding of how to act as a human, but he had never gotten enough, only the old man.
All they spoke about was work, so it was no wonder he didn't know how to act like a normal male. This was why he hid around the perimeters of the grocery store, watching few humans come and go, but gathering what information he could about them, trying to integrate how they acted into his data streams. Now however, he hadn't seen humans in weeks, and on a whim, he decided to venture into the grocery store. It was funny, he had never actually been inside it, or any grocery store for that matter.
As Lee walked into the quiet grocery store, scanning the area for any possible threats, he took a moment to look down at his bare feet, the sensors on the body enjoying the way the cold tile felt against them. The corner of his mouth twitched in a failed attempt at a smile, the blond head tilting back upward as he headed into the store, intending to 'shop around', as the humans put it.
๑￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ￭ ๑
☑☒☑☒☑☒☑☒☑☒☑☒☑☒☑☒
"I am equipped with the largest computational,
comprehensive, and calculating brain that has ever existed.
I apologize if that makes you feel... inferior."
'Goodnight,' said the night man,XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
'We are programmed to receive...XXXXXXXXX
you can check out anytime you like..XXX
but you can never leave..'
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Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 8:13 am
"How do I live without people? I dunno."
Miguel Brava-Marion Dieciocho Miguel looked a bit pensive at the confirmation of his fears. But there was nothing to be done; now that he was out here, he would have to face the consequences of leaving his cocoon, his barrier of safety. He would have to face the machines. It was a little more reassuring that he had people by his side, though, as he looked at the three of them. They were seemingly all prepared with weapons, so they didn't need to worry about finding anything or asking for one politely from a machine. Miguel giggled in his mind a the thought of walking up to a machine and holding out both hands, expecting like a child on Hallowe'en.
When Avery promised that she wouldn't leave him behind, he couldn't help but feel himself flutter a little inside. Miguel still had the heart of a child after all, and he was having his first childish crush then and there, though he didn't know it. He found himself unable to look away from her blazing blue hair or the infathomable look in her eyes-- But he shook it out of his head for now and followed along behind her, gripping his pipe with a newer unknown sense of determination in his steps.
As he followed, his mind wandered back to what to make of Chandler. The guy had been nothing but suspicious and loud, though he'd accused Miguel and Avery of being the former. The thought made him wrinkle his nose. Sure he made a good point when he said that there hadn't been anyone about and that three people meeting was crazy, but that was no reason to be such a Grumpy Gus. If anything he was expecting more people like himself who were ecstatic to see others and get to know them. But nooo, everyone else had to pop into their, "It's the end of the world, freak out!" modes. Why people chose to be so self-destructive was beyond him. He actually felt that maybe he could've been a machine of some sort in a past life, or perhaps something didn't kill its own kind, a mouse of some type maybe. But machine or rat or not, he'd talk to Chandler about it later...
When Avery tensed in front of him as she looked around her, he looked about as well. He just about understood what had her spooked, To have dropped a robot like the one nearby had to have somehow alerted the bots, they were smart enough. He readied his pipe in both hands in a sword style, though he wasn't trained in any way as far as a sword. He only had what he had done until he bled inside his house, the horribly intense training he;d put himself through. He had found a note on his counter when he woke up that said he had to prepare for what was coming, and that if he didn't he would die. While random notes in one's home is strange, ever increased in strangeness when it is a completely locked down house, he followed the advice. He took a step closer to Avery while still looking about.
"So how quick can we skedaddle over to this place you were talkin' 'bout?" [[OOC: Welcome, CompanyPanda! biggrin ]]"How do people that are allergic to chocolate live without Thin Mints?"
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Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 9:12 am
"People of the future will remember, her fate was something she brought upon herself"xxxxxxxxxxα v ε я y тyℓεя c ø ℓ εMickey looked a tiny bit flustered, though Avery couldn't have blamed him. She couldn't help but wonder how he'd gone so long without knowing about the machines, or rather, about their number. There was no way he could've arrived after the quarantine, there was no way out. On the other hand, Avery almost envied him. To have not seen the death at the beginning, or felt the affects of it afterwards. Avery had buried her own family, or at least, what of it she could find. She'd been distrusted, and distrustful, and she'd seen people torn to pieces by the machines.
She'd watched as the machinery in her own home woke up and tried to kill her, though she had been extraordinarily lucky. Lucky that her father had hated the company so, and had been something of a tinkerer. He'd made their own home unit, and though it hadn't been as pretty or as fancy as eleTRIKo's, it hadn't cost them their lives the morning the update was sent. Imagine not knowing about all of the death, or watching as people flooded the streets and were obliterated by the items of their own creation.
What kind of person would that have made her? Less cynical? Certainly. But she wouldn't have been as fit to survive in the situation, though it wouldn't have changed her strength any, at least not physically-- she was at the peak of her physical condition, and she would never grow stronger, though weakness would likely come with time. But she wouldn't have been emotionally prepared to handle what might come in the future, she would be shocked anew with the stench of the dead in the air. It wasn't a fair trade, but Avery couldn't say she liked the way the circumstances had made her.
Maybe there was hope for Mickey, yet, after all, who was she to judge? Having just met him, and all. Avery needed to get out of her head, there were more important things, at least until they were at a place where she knew they'd be, at least mostly, safe. The machines did not think as though they wanted to kill, they did not plan ahead, that was likely the reason that they didn't camp there, and take down anything that approached. It was on a basis of see, and react.
Mickey asked, in his own weird little way, how quickly they could get to the grocery store. No longer the person she had been only moments before, Avery didn't look back at him when she spoke. "Depends on how fast you can run." Avery couldn't hear the whirring of gears, but that didn't necessarily mean much. They could be standing still, or on the far point of their patrol-- but not all of them could possibly be. They couldn't stand to linger, they wouldn't make it out alive if they waited around to be found.
There was no more warning than that, Avery took off. Sneaking past them took skill, and she'd never been much of a sly one. But hell, could she run. It was the metal in her that gave her that stamina, probably. She couldn't remember much of her childhood, so saying that she had been athletic, even then, may or may not have been true. Nothing pursued, which ought to have been to her surprise, but it was simply good timing and a bit of luck. The grocery store doors were open, it was eerie to see that they didn't close upon entering.
The place was dark inside, the windows dusty. Avery had glanced back on the way over, making sure that no one was left behind, and it was an odd feeling, when she'd made the same run most mornings alone, and simply taking the road under her feet. They had all arrived safely, it seemed, and Avery offered them something of a smile. "Nothing like free breakfast, am I right?" Her attempts to lighten the mood were probably not appreciated by Chandler, pessimistic as he was, but still it was worth something akin to an attempt.
Avery entered the grocery store, unaware that they were not alone in their search for sustenance. She felt she owed Mickey some advice, despite the fact that she had promised this place would be safe. "Don't let your guard down." Was all she really had to offer. No place was truly safe. She stepped carefully, quietly, as she moved farther in. She wouldn't allow her hunger to betray her, because so long as the doors were open, there was nothing to stop just about anything from getting in.
[OOC: Kind of a shitty post, but I wanted to get the transition over with.]
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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xx
xx 
