- Joined
- Jul 31, 2018
- Messages
- 124
- Awards
- 2
- Essence
- €20,314
- Coin
- ₡40,800
- Tokens
- 11
- World
- Erde Nona
- Profile
- Click Here
"Erm, ma'am?" Mr. Jarvis begun to say as he was ushered to the back, "If it wouldn't be terribly inconvenient, I would much prefer to sit in a non-smoking area-"
The Iron Butler turned around and noticed the back-room. How odd, to place a front desk in the back of an establishment. Quite the irregular arrangement.
"Speaking of irregular, where did Ms. Frizzle go off to this time?" the butler silently wondered to himself, quite a bit irritated.
Mr. Jarvis's head was buzzing. By this point, STARC was sending some stray pulses of some sort towards his brain as he scanned the environment. And the one woman who had a similar scientific understanding to STARC's was a disheveled and unstable woman who vanished to do something incredibly dangerous. While Mr. Jarvis had found her antics amusing at first, he found that now he did not approve of her behavior.
"Evening, sir," the butler said to the man at the front-desk in the back, "If it would be alright, I was hoping to watch a dog-fight."
"Sir, this is a restaurant," the man said almost expectantly, "We don't participate in non-culinary activities, particularly illicit ones such as that. If I may, what was your order?"
"Fried viperatl," Mr. Jarvis enunciated, "Over wild grains. Kindly add on mushrooms, and extra spicy, if you could."
The man raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Very well, if you could sit at those benches for a moment, you'll be admitted shortly."
The butler and the three apparently ancient young ladies sat at the chairs the man gestured towards.
"Jarvis," STARC said, opening a new window in the armor's internal holographic display, "I'd tell you I got something, but I can't hack that laptop."
"Hack, sir?"
"Trying to keep it brief, Jarvis," STARC snapped, creating a window that zoomed in on the laptop. The back was composed of taut steel wires and spinning gears, which Mr. Jarvis had initially assumed to be purely aesthetic.
"It's an analog laptop," STARC muttered, "Which... makes no sense. Even I wouldn't know how to make that. There it is, though."
"That's unfortunate," Mr. Jarvis replied, "And-"
"Nope," STARC sighed, "Not a single digital thing in this room besides you. Some complex electrical gadgets here and there, but none of them has a digital interface at all. It's not like the technology doesn't exist, though. See those doors?"
Mr. Jarvis moved his eyes, keeping his head subtly still.
"Those are lined with a cocktail of metals that's hard to make even these days. It's messing with all my scanners, so I can't even tell if there's anyone behind it."
Mr. Jarvis looked down, and the internal buzzing stopped. Then STARC opened a series of windows in a panic.
"Jarvis! Teleport signal incoming-"
With a warp of blue energy, Mr. Jarvis fell unconscious as the arc reactor in his chestpiece overloaded.
***
Ms. Frizzle screamed, but her fearful bellowing was muffled heavily by the rag in her mouth. Her fiery hair was even more disheveled than usual, flailing and careening into impossible angles as the schoolteacher struggled.
Across from her, a figure with a hood and long cloak watched her struggle.
"This is..." the figure paused, "Disappointing. Forgive me, I don't mean to demean you. I had simply imagined you to be an impressive woman, to have wrangled such a mighty beast. Instead... I find a creature of self-indulgence."
The figure turned to Liz, who was surrounded by sheets of metal which used to be a Dispensable Armor Module. The dragon was trying to claw off an advanced collar. She shrunk into her iguana form, and the collar followed suit.
"That having been said, I am grateful. If it weren't for you, I imagine I could not have found such a beast without your help. And I assure you, I will be taking excellent care of her. I unfortunately will have to cause some initial... discomfort to her, but I will do so with no small displeasure. It is simply the circumstance. But it will be my honor to otherwise host her in my home and to ensure her happiness."
The figure crouched down next to Ms. Frizzle.
"I say this," the figure said with a hush, "so you may pass with the consolation that you have not failed your friend."
The figure flicked at the top of a syringe before bowing reverently. Two furry tendrils slipped out from beneath the hood. They quivered in the air.
***
When Mr. Jarvis woke up, he coughed twice before trying to stand up. He found that the Iron Butler armor was cold and completely rigid. He couldn't move at all, and his armor was now a perfect prison.
The butler looked side-to-side. He couldn't see a bloody thing except for the two slots in the visor which were largely aesthetic. None of the emergency power-up systems were active, which Edwin noted as he twitched his fingers to pump the back-up generator.
"Where the bloody hell is this?" Mr. Jarvis grunted.
"You're awake," someone said.
Mr. Jarvis attempted to turn his head, but his helmet was rigid in place. Thankfully, this would mean that it would also still protect him, but it was keeping him from moving. Whoever spoke was stepping towards him, as Mr. Jarvis could hear her footsteps.
"You're the ones," the woman chuckled, "who ordered fried viperatl over wild grains, add on mushrooms, extra spicy. Do you even know what that means?"
The woman leaned forward, and her face peeked out in front of Mr. Jarvis' visor. She grinned, revealing a jaw lined entirely with gleaming, pitch-black teeth.
"Fried viperatl means you're fighters," the woman chuckled, "wild grains means you blackmailed a friend of mine, mushrooms means you're new here, not many connections. Spicy..."
The woman leaned in. Her breath crept into Mr. Jarvis' helmet, filling it with the smell of chewed tobacco and oddly enough, caviar.
"Spicy means you'll be quite the performance."
The woman stood up and started walking away.
"Hope you like the gladiator life," she says, her voice getting farther as she left.
The Iron Butler turned around and noticed the back-room. How odd, to place a front desk in the back of an establishment. Quite the irregular arrangement.
"Speaking of irregular, where did Ms. Frizzle go off to this time?" the butler silently wondered to himself, quite a bit irritated.
Mr. Jarvis's head was buzzing. By this point, STARC was sending some stray pulses of some sort towards his brain as he scanned the environment. And the one woman who had a similar scientific understanding to STARC's was a disheveled and unstable woman who vanished to do something incredibly dangerous. While Mr. Jarvis had found her antics amusing at first, he found that now he did not approve of her behavior.
"Evening, sir," the butler said to the man at the front-desk in the back, "If it would be alright, I was hoping to watch a dog-fight."
"Sir, this is a restaurant," the man said almost expectantly, "We don't participate in non-culinary activities, particularly illicit ones such as that. If I may, what was your order?"
"Fried viperatl," Mr. Jarvis enunciated, "Over wild grains. Kindly add on mushrooms, and extra spicy, if you could."
The man raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Very well, if you could sit at those benches for a moment, you'll be admitted shortly."
The butler and the three apparently ancient young ladies sat at the chairs the man gestured towards.
"Jarvis," STARC said, opening a new window in the armor's internal holographic display, "I'd tell you I got something, but I can't hack that laptop."
"Hack, sir?"
"Trying to keep it brief, Jarvis," STARC snapped, creating a window that zoomed in on the laptop. The back was composed of taut steel wires and spinning gears, which Mr. Jarvis had initially assumed to be purely aesthetic.
"It's an analog laptop," STARC muttered, "Which... makes no sense. Even I wouldn't know how to make that. There it is, though."
"That's unfortunate," Mr. Jarvis replied, "And-"
"Nope," STARC sighed, "Not a single digital thing in this room besides you. Some complex electrical gadgets here and there, but none of them has a digital interface at all. It's not like the technology doesn't exist, though. See those doors?"
Mr. Jarvis moved his eyes, keeping his head subtly still.
"Those are lined with a cocktail of metals that's hard to make even these days. It's messing with all my scanners, so I can't even tell if there's anyone behind it."
Mr. Jarvis looked down, and the internal buzzing stopped. Then STARC opened a series of windows in a panic.
"Jarvis! Teleport signal incoming-"
With a warp of blue energy, Mr. Jarvis fell unconscious as the arc reactor in his chestpiece overloaded.
***
Ms. Frizzle screamed, but her fearful bellowing was muffled heavily by the rag in her mouth. Her fiery hair was even more disheveled than usual, flailing and careening into impossible angles as the schoolteacher struggled.
Across from her, a figure with a hood and long cloak watched her struggle.
"This is..." the figure paused, "Disappointing. Forgive me, I don't mean to demean you. I had simply imagined you to be an impressive woman, to have wrangled such a mighty beast. Instead... I find a creature of self-indulgence."
The figure turned to Liz, who was surrounded by sheets of metal which used to be a Dispensable Armor Module. The dragon was trying to claw off an advanced collar. She shrunk into her iguana form, and the collar followed suit.
"That having been said, I am grateful. If it weren't for you, I imagine I could not have found such a beast without your help. And I assure you, I will be taking excellent care of her. I unfortunately will have to cause some initial... discomfort to her, but I will do so with no small displeasure. It is simply the circumstance. But it will be my honor to otherwise host her in my home and to ensure her happiness."
The figure crouched down next to Ms. Frizzle.
"I say this," the figure said with a hush, "so you may pass with the consolation that you have not failed your friend."
The figure flicked at the top of a syringe before bowing reverently. Two furry tendrils slipped out from beneath the hood. They quivered in the air.
***
When Mr. Jarvis woke up, he coughed twice before trying to stand up. He found that the Iron Butler armor was cold and completely rigid. He couldn't move at all, and his armor was now a perfect prison.
The butler looked side-to-side. He couldn't see a bloody thing except for the two slots in the visor which were largely aesthetic. None of the emergency power-up systems were active, which Edwin noted as he twitched his fingers to pump the back-up generator.
"Where the bloody hell is this?" Mr. Jarvis grunted.
"You're awake," someone said.
Mr. Jarvis attempted to turn his head, but his helmet was rigid in place. Thankfully, this would mean that it would also still protect him, but it was keeping him from moving. Whoever spoke was stepping towards him, as Mr. Jarvis could hear her footsteps.
"You're the ones," the woman chuckled, "who ordered fried viperatl over wild grains, add on mushrooms, extra spicy. Do you even know what that means?"
The woman leaned forward, and her face peeked out in front of Mr. Jarvis' visor. She grinned, revealing a jaw lined entirely with gleaming, pitch-black teeth.
"Fried viperatl means you're fighters," the woman chuckled, "wild grains means you blackmailed a friend of mine, mushrooms means you're new here, not many connections. Spicy..."
The woman leaned in. Her breath crept into Mr. Jarvis' helmet, filling it with the smell of chewed tobacco and oddly enough, caviar.
"Spicy means you'll be quite the performance."
The woman stood up and started walking away.
"Hope you like the gladiator life," she says, her voice getting farther as she left.
1014 words. Sorry, just barfed everywhere at the end.