kismet_loop | .01 || accidental video

.01 || accidental video

-- okay, joke's over, guys! Stopped being funny a long time ago! You can come out now!

[Oh dear. Someone's not in Kansas -- er, California -- anymore. Far from it; Hiro has Awakened in the Northwest District, and finds all this nature and trees extremely unusual and disconcerting. He's grimy and confused and irritated and he's trying desperately to orient himself. Where's the city? Where are the buildings or the wind turbines -- you can see those from anywhere.

The little robot following him would be way cooler if it weren't for the aforementioned nature, and the fact that Hiro has to keep shooing it away and interrupting it's welcome message.] I don't need any aid, I need my friends to stop being jerks and cut this out! Can you not-- personal space, buddy!

[He swats at the robot again, muttering dark, age-inappropriate words under his breath and stumbling over the uneven terrain. He's so focused on how irritated he is with his friends, that he almost doesn't see the wild boar snuffling through the underbrush.

...until he trips over it of course.] Hey! Watch where you're--

--o-oh boy.

[End feed.]

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Oh, now it's got a new motive to do just that! If you hadn't said anything about those bags, there'd be no way any alien pigs would know about them. Way to fuel the fire, dude; if they didn't have it out for you personally before, they do now.

[Oh, Sam can get behind banter---cracking wise is a great way to cope with weird, and she should know; she's seen her fair share.]

You don't know that, but you also don't know: I'm not a native. Found myself on a street as suddenly as you found yourself way out in the woods a few months back. Can I prove I'm not an organ-stealing alien? Not really, not right right now... but my asking around to try and get a curling team together should make my being a Canadian pretty plausible.

[Hiro scrunches his nose, giving Sam a suspicious look. Normally he'd be able to tell if she were kidding, but there is a space pig after him, so he's in a delicate mental space right now.] ...can I throw this robot thing at it?

[That gets a startled bark of laughter, which, okay, is better than panic.] All right, all right, you had me at "curling team". There's no way organ-stealing aliens would know what that is. I'm not even totally sure what that is.

Absolutely. [She's serious about that, having seen a Cybertronian have to work in order to actually damage a drone.] Even the little ones are surprisingly, if not shockingly sturdy---Nokia has nothin' on them.

Curling's a good game. [She grins, pleased with her winning point.] I'll give you an actual outline later, but it's kind of a cross between bowling and shuffleboard, if shuffleboard decided stop screwing around, since you play with forty-pound granite pieces instead of little piddly pucks.

-- for real? Okay, one sec. [There's a pause while Hiro snatches the tiny robot and flings it down towards the evil space pig. There's a loud squeal, some angry grunting, and then --] Noooo, I think that just made it mad.

[The description gets a very skeptical eyebrow-raise.] Okayyyy, bowling and shuffleboard are boring, but granite pieces are cool. This could go either way.

Maybe if you keep at it it'll decide you're not worth the trouble. These drones can stand up to being bashed with a rock, no problem, and wild boars-slash-space pigs are significantly softer.

There's also a lot of yelling and sliding around. I'll recruit you so you can see for yourself, if we can find four more people to play, but that'll be a ways off... and we have your here-and-now to worry about.

Edited 2015-03-16 00:37 (UTC)

Seems kinda rude, though. Little guy's just trying to help, right? [Hiro tends to anthropomorphize robots. Hazard of the job.] Don't I get like...a space-overlord-commissioned weapon? Like a space javelin? If they wanna watch me fight to the death, they'd better make it fair, right?

[Hiro's about to ask more questions -- is curling like hockey? Can he attack someone with a stick? -- but there's some very aggressive headbutting of his tree happening, so he clings on tighter and nods.] Yeaaah, if I could maybe not stay up here, that'd be great.

Yyyeah... and if the chief engineer ever sees this exchange I oughtta apologize for the both of us, but the little guy can take it and won't hold it against you. I know this for a fact, there's a whole story behind it, but that's definitely a story for some other time---and no, sorry. No space-overlord-commissioned weapons, and no 'they' to hand 'em out.

[There will be a better time and place for those questions---and their answers, which are 'sort of but not really' and 'yes definitely although its ill-advised'---provided the boar doesn't do anything too terrible.]

Okay, so, what do you see aside from trees and more trees and one angry pig?

Heyyyy, you setting me up? Cause I've met engineers and they never forgive and never forget.

[That gets a heavy sigh, and Hiro sloooowly inching up to stand with his back against the tree trunk.] ...well. More trees...and oh look, another pig, that's great.

...aaaand a city? Maybe? Buildings, off that way. [Pointing southish.]

No. [And it's Sam's turn to arch an eyebrow, though she's clearly close to smiling.] These are some seriously uncharitable assumptions you're making! But I'm not going to throw you under the bus. I'll apologize if this ever comes to Wheeljack's attention, as I was the one who encourage you to throw the drone when you asked about it.

Okay. Be cool; you're going to have help, it just might take a little time.

Excuse me for being cautious while I'm in a space tree. [For all his bravado and snark, Hiro is getting visibly more distressed the longer he's up here. It's creepy in this nature, save him D:]

...is that time in Fahrenheit or Celsius? [Okay, maybe he's still got a little snark left.]

[Deadpan:]

You are excused.

[But then Sam's tone warms, back to what it was.]

When it's relevant, and not recipe-related I'm always saying in Celsius, but speaking of saying? I'm going to need to know a name to shout. It looks like you're not too too far from the area the hospital is in, so we've got a good start on tracking down your tree.

Hospital, great. Good to know they can attempt to reattach my limbs after the space pigs gnaw them off.

[He's just gonna tuck his knees up to his chest and sigh, then introduce himself. Manners, even in a space treetop.] Hiro Hamada.

The space pigs won't have the chance, if I can help it.

Sam Patchowski. Nice to meet you, even under the circumstances; hopefully, I'll be seeing you soon. Hang in there, okay? I'll be as quick as I can, and I'm just gonna switch this onto audio in the interim.

[Oh, whoops, okay, guess we're voicing now.] You got experience with them? They've got tusks.

[At least without video she can't see how freaked-out he's looking.]

I've got options! And I'm not too proud to admit 'calling backup in' would be a good one.

[What she can see is where she's going---that's an engine audible on the other end.]

Is there some sort of space-pig-fighting militia here? That'd be cool.

[Have a sudden gasp, and some faint, but angry pig sounds.] Is that an engine for something fast?

Sadly, n--actually, no, not sadly, because having no pig-fighting militia means the pigs haven't been enough of a problem up until now to require that kind of counter. But, no; it's just that most of the people here are pretty good about helping each other out.

Moderately!

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm cursed. I mean, I am on an alien planet. That's sort of an indicator of bad luck, right?

-- okay, cause they're starting to dig.

If you're cursed, well, we'll try to take care of that, too.

[There's a chuff of exasperation. Maybe you are cursed, kid.]

Ohhhosti-de-marde.

Edited 2015-03-18 04:45 (UTC)

You can do tha--

[Oh no, oh no what do those words mean??]

What? What's a deee-mard?!

A sacre.

[A second.]

A swear. Quebecois.

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