Handsome Jack - Hero of Pandora (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thedifferencebetween) wrote2017-10-03 09:42 am
thedifferencebetween) wrote2017-10-03 09:42 am
Ryslig Inbox
WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, HANDSOME JACK. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 021.07.222.57 *** H.Jack69 has joined 021.07.222.57 <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- sample for when you ban someone <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <USERNAME> First sentence of message. | ||||
<cellist>
Are you asking me to call you?
< H.Jack69 >
no im saying im not having this convo over any channel that could b recorded or listened in on
sensitive info is involved
u get me
<cellist>
Time and place.
[ Not being the most paranoid person in the metaphorical room for once, it's odd. He respects it. ]
< H.Jack69 >
[ ACTION ]
So Jack may or may not be surprised to find a suit of armor sitting on his chopping station. Beneath the pressed shirt, dark trousers, and overcoat, it's a little hard to tell just how much of Slade has been transformed. There's a shiny, dual-colored 'helmet' where his head would be. Two ribbons flow from the back and rest on his right shoulder. Unlike before, there are no wings, no horns, just black-and-orange all the way down to his exposed hands, which are just as solid and whir where he drums them against the countertop. ]
no subject
[Jack gives him a look up and down, nodding. That is a simulacrum alright, though he hates that word. Kind of a cool look, real sleek. He can dig it.]
So why'd this happen?
no subject
[ When he speaks, nothing moves. The voice sounds muffled enough, as if speaking from behind the mask. The real source of sound is a bit lower, a voicebox buried behind layers of metal on his neck. His eye glows steadily on standby. ]
Mana deal. Shouldn't last for longer than a month... Too late for takebacks, I'm sure.
[ Leaning forward is easy, and he rests his elbows on his knees as he watches Jack move. There's a mechanical sound with the action. ] What've you got? The thing you couldn't share over the network.
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[He really doesn't. Why not go bot? It's fun!]
But yeah, here's the thing. You probably got some kind of obedience or subservience or Asimov failsafe bullshit somewhere in there. Might not be always active, might need to do something to bring it out, but it's probably there. Me? I got lucky, mine isn't active all the time, it's gotta be turned on.
[And he's not getting into the details, even if he's willing to let Slade know this much. It's not something that happens often, and Jack strives to make sure it doesn't happen more. He'd prefer it never happen, but he hasn't figure out how to change his own programming. Not for lack of trying.]
But hey, plus side buddy! You're strong and got a ton of energy and whatever sex ya have this month is gonna be great!
no subject
So he's got it, too. A universal be-a-good-boy button that seems coded into all simulacrum software. Slade's taking notes β literally, he feels his mental assessment of Jack's words being written onto some... hard drive? Flash drive? Christ, he hires tech people for a reason. ]
When it's turned on, what happens? How do you reroute the failsafe so you aren't someone's lapdog?
[ Talk of sex has him look up, not that he's surprised. This is Jack; it comes with the territory. With his seat on the counter and the fact that he's lost half a foot of Nephilim height, his partner isn't too far off from his eye-level. ]
Jack, I don't have a dick.
[ And how nice it is to say that word! He needs to be more vulgar more often now that he can. ]
no subject
[They'll get into that later, though.]
Mine's got a timer on it, far as I can tell. It just...goes off. I dunno, it's not like it's happened enough for me to pin much down about it. My concern is just keeping it from happening! I dunno how yours works or what it does, and if you're lucky, you won't ever find out.
[Because it sucks, it sucks so friggin hard! Being inside and knowing you don't wanna do what you're doing but not being able to do anything about it....]
Just be careful my guy.
no subject
[ He's going off of pamphlets and personal experience. There's an occasional effort when it comes to not barking orders at Harley ( you know, the way he does EVERYONE else ) because she might actually follow them.
Being listened to, it creates more problems than it solves. ]
No time for careful.
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[Because he wasn't that kind of boss, but that's not the point. Jack isn't a follower, hasn't been for almost a decade now.]
Well that's a you problem, buddy, you shoulda asked about all this shit before you bought a month of bot-life!
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[ Is this just going to be how they are? Slade making bad choices and Jack scolding him for it? It put him too closely in mind of someone else for Slade's comfort - not that his faceplate expresses the grimace that he'd like it to. ]
Are you going to operate on me or aren't you?
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[Jack's eyes flash a little brighter for an instant, his version of a wink. Like he's not gonna give Slade some shit....]
Yeah, yeah, lemme get out my toolkit. And you get out of your clothes, I gotta get a good look at what I'm working with. And since you're apparently as anatomically correct as a fashion doll right now, it's not even weird for me to tell ya to get naked for me!
no subject
He's up from his seat and shrugging off the layers in no time. For some reason, it's worth mentioning β ] You don't gotta wait 'til I'm a bot to get me out of my pants, Jack.
[ Beneath the coat and shirt, shimmering scales run the length of his chest, wrapping around his upper arms before they fold back into cold, black titanium. The opalescent silver is the only other touch of color to be found on his otherwise slate and orange body. Everything is solid, unlike Jack, who at least is flesh-passing. Nothing about Slade can be mistaken for human.
Without pants, it's just as clear that fashion doll was no exaggeration. ]
What's your asking price for this gig? It doesn't sit within the contract. Hadn't considered a clause for fucking dissection.
no subject
[They're friends. Slade can protest all he wants, but they're buds! Some people are just bad at friendship, but that's okay, Jack can pick up the slack.]
[He rummages around under a counter before coming out with two large leather bags. His on the go kits, so to speak. Considering there's only so many tech experts around, Jack tends to keep tool kits in the places he often is.]
And you say that, but you're really hard to read when it comes to the signals, buddy. Wow, you were not kidding about being dickless. But there's all kinds of ways around that, trust me. I lost mine for like a month but trust me, it didn't do too much damage to my sex life.
[He opens one of the bags and pulls out a screwdriver - always start basic.]
We'll settle up once we're done, dunno how long this'll take or how much effort I'm gonna have to exert. You know where your access panels are? Or do you even have those?
no subject
Depends on what you're accessing.
[ Because he's got panels out the wazoo. A panel on his right arm flips open with a readout of his heart rate, O2, and energy stores before requiring another meal. Beneath the gauntlet of his opposite arm, a panel flips open to read a basic list of tasks and assignments in the form of commands. The text is orange and 'retro' and the command in the PRIORITY spot reads internal order #214 β LISTEN TO JACK. ]
If you're trying to get into what passes for my guts, [ he says once both displays are open for Jack to see, ] they're under here. The scalemail opens. Don't know whose design this is. Doesn't look anything like Ikon's suit.
no subject
[Jack is distracted, looking over Slade's...everything. Interesting, pretty easily accessible readout screens.]
Mine unscrews, he was all 'hey, let's have some fun, I'll put on a show if you take it off and lemme have it!' and I, benevolent and horny fool that I am, handed it over. Asshole bolted out the door laughing into the night.
[But hey, it's a fun story, and Jack found his physical form as it ought to be when the fog came back in so it's not like he'd had to go and get it back or anything.]
And yeah, I wanna get a look at your insides. Cuz you're a whole different kind of sim that I've never seen before - which goes for like every one of us, really.
[The vast differences are staggering, as he mentioned to Slade earlier.]
Sleek design though, pretty streamlined exterior. I can dig it.
cw: a lil body horror
I imagine he's gone now. The guy. He vanished?
[ Leave it to Slade to slap on a downer ending. He'd say he's here to get his hardware checked out, not for entertainment... but there's also a new inquisitiveness about him that doesn't allow him to leave stones unturned. He still needs to figure out where people go when they leave. And, if it's somewhere good, how he can join them. ]
...Serves its purpose. [ A solid body meant for solid kills, not too unlike his look from back home.
He sits back down for this one, gets about as comfy as one can for a man about to have his insides poked and prodded at. Once he's settled, the silver access panel swings open to what looks like wire-laden 'muscle' laid above a synthetic rib cage. The bones aren't actually bones, but polycarbonate constructions meant to simulate the structure of human anatomy. Everything is light and transparent. Through the rib cage, one can see synthetic lungs, a synthetic heart, and a cache of wires, processors, and memory banks housed where his stomach should be. What passes for blood is deep orange and flows all throughout each of these interacting systems. ]
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[Best two hours of his life, or so he thinks sometimes. But right now...he lets out a sound like a whistle, the light in his eyes flashing as he gets a look at Slade's insides.]
Well look at that. Yeah, see....I don't look anything like this inside. Opening me up's like opening up a computer's mainframe....oh god damn it.
[Why did he say it? Why? He has no one to blame but himself. He pushes his attention to the job at hand, but some little electronic part of his brain just keeps playing the same song on repeat in the back of his head. He hums along while he leans in close, taking in all the details of Slade's insides. It's a whole 'made in our image' deal going on, synthetic organs and everything. It's something Jack's familiar with, in theory, but it's the kind of thing that takes so much work and serves no real purpose that nobody in his time bothers. Plus they've learned their lesson about making robots too human.]
And look at that...some kind of liquid...coolant? Or is that part of your power system?
[He's already reaching for his screwdriver.]
no subject
What is that? Hey. Knock it off. [ Tolerance for cheery machine music is zero, apparently! If Slade is the one having his body intruded upon, he at least gets to chose the playlist. And this ain't it. ] You don't have a radio down here?
And I couldn't tell you.
Didn't come with an instruction manual. 'S probably something important.
[ Yes, now is the time for second thoughts. ]
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[Jack shakes his head as though he could dislodge it. There's a reason he had wiped its existence from Claptrap's library, but it lives on inside his head. And a number of local novelty covers.]
No radio, I got my music player. Pick your awesome lady crooner of the golden age! Which is the late twentieth and early twenty first century. If ya like Taylor Swift - which everybody should - I got ya covered!
[Okay, Jack needs a few more things in this case. He ducks down to rummage through his bag and coming up with a syringe and a vial.]
Plus...I been backwards engineering shit since I was kid, I'll figure out how you work. Might get a liiiiitle uncomfy, but you're a big boy, you can handle it!
no subject
You got... [ Time for an old man to rack his brain for post-80s music. ] Lady Gaga?
Disclaimer's fine, but you can't shake me, Jack. Take notes and try not to fuck anything up.
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[It's a whole different ballgame. But Jack puts on Bad Romance and nods to himself before getting to work. First things first, a sample of that fluid that Slade's got running through him!]
But do me a favor and keep up the convo while I'm doing this. That way I'll know immediately if I do something that fucks with you super bad! Cuz I might fuck you up, I dunno what the hell kinda bot you are or how you work. Here we go!
[With no other warning, he plunges the syringe into Slade's synthetic tube-veins to extract some liquid.]
no subject
[ Slade wasn't planning on sharing just how familiar he is with strange experimentation, but Jack asks him to keep a conversation going, and that's not something he can say no to. Literally. If Jack checks, Slade's latest directive says as much, TALK TO JACK. ]
Took up with the Armed Forces before I learned to sign my name in cursive. I was good. They fast-tracked me to a beta-tested super-soldier programβ [ Oh, that's a needle in his tit, all right. The liquid flows with a viscosity similar to water. It's not like his face can move in a way indicative of a wince, but there's a chance he wouldn't flinch even if this wasn't the case. He broke his own arm, once, to escape from a trap. He's fine. ]
Strapped to a table for days. Pumped full of chemicals. Think I died once or twice, if I recall correctly.
(no subject)