TDM 002

[erkumods]

TDM 002: IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO

( 1 ) Around mid-morning, a message from the Augur appears on bracelets all across the city. "New organisms discovered. Domestication in progress." The wark of a chocobo rises up from the outskirts of the city. Several more join in, forming a charming chorus. And, strangely, this is when new arrivals begin to show up. Beamed in one at a time, scanned en masse, they are processed just as the first wave was. There's one major difference: whereas the old guard was given their bracelets and ushered into the City, the new folks are also given... collars. Buckled, snapped, or otherwise fastened around their necks, a variety of colorful collars with some rather unusual novelty pet tags. (These are just a few suggestions. The typical “If found, please return to ____” is also very much acceptable.) "You are new organisms. Domestication in progress. Compatible Eros energy will complete domestication." No matter how hard they try, characters cannot take the collars off by themselves. They need a partner's help - but not just anyone will do. It very well might be the first person they find, or it might take several tries. The robots grow bolder as the day grows on, targeting characters who aren't new, as well. "Y̶o̶u̴ ̸a̷r̸e̷ ̵o̵r̵g̶a̴n̷i̷s̶m̸s̶.̶ ̶D̷o̶m̴e̴s̶t̶i̶c̵a̸t̶i̸o̴n̸ ̷i̵n̸ ̴p̸r̶o̵g̷r̵e̷s̵s̷." Their antics die down by nightfall, but for the next day or two, the occasional malfunctioning 'bot may accost someone in the street, so stay on your toes! ( 2 ) An abandoned racetrack lights up the night. That's right: place your bets, folks, because these birds are about to run around a track while robots sell synthetic, overpriced aphro-popcorn. ...Did you say priced? That’s right! If you participated in the orgy earlier this month, you'll find you have a stash of credits accessible in your app. You've fucked money back into the world, so why not waste it? (Opportunities to earn credits will come up periodically and won't always be sexual in nature, so don't worry if your character wouldn't have any yet.) And if you don't have credits to bet with, why not get creative? ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● N A V I G A T I O N

Comments

awoooooo

[cadeuces]

Quite honestly, her attention had still been on looking down her front as if by some miracle the snug collar would extend enough to read her own tag, but it felt like A Lot Of Words and that was all she could make of it. Perhaps if they were embossed she'd be able to make it out given some time and concentration, but no. Her peripheral of who she's approached so far has just been the red of his poncho.

His voice, however, is another thing entirely. That twang cuts right through her and she's quick to look up at him, eyes wide and scanning over his features for a long moment, then turning to face him. The only warning he gets is the inch dip of her height with the bend of her knee, and she's (launching herself) bumping right into his arms even as worry softens the tone of her voice to ask: "Jesse? How long—"

Definitely the former to start, the latter may come as she realizes the metal arm and how much he smells of booze and the desert heat, worry sinking in deeper. But right now? Right now she's only glad to see him, because it's been years and the only hope she's had he's even still alive is the slow uptick of his bounty whenever she checked obscure southwestern US news. There's still the smell of him from the last time she'd hugged him, and it's enough to have her eyes prickling with the nostalgia of it. It never should have had to be 'nostalgia'. God, everything went so wrong at the end there.

Just let her squeeze him tight, first, and make sure he's really truly there. Wherever 'there' is.

woof woof

[brambler]

It seems the armful is coming before the earful, at the very least. It's been a long time since he's seen Angela in person - other than news articles or papers read while waiting around, it's been too many years. The last time he saw her was before he handed in his formal resignation after Blackwatch's suspension, swinging by one last time to tell her he was leaving and steal a cup of her coffee for the road.

When she pushes herself into his arms, he easily opens them, wrapping them around her waist and pulling her up a bit into a hug. He knows he doesn't smell the best and she'll probably fuss about him still smoking at 37, but for now he's just glad to see she's hale and healthy, just some fine lines around the corners of her eyes and mouth.

"I'm thinkin' too long," he answers her unfinished question, taking the chance to rub the scruff of his beard in her hair affectionately. The scent of shampoo's changed a little, but underneath it it's still always what he's associated with her - vanilla, antiseptic, honey. There's the scent of the desert on her as well, now. "How you doin', doc?"

[cadeuces]

The earful can wait; he scoops her up and both her legs bend at the knee to lift up, the one arm up over his shoulder resting comfortably as her nails sift into his hair, burying her face in his collar to breathe him in.

The last time she'd seen him, she hadn't even given him a proper hug. She gave him his coffee and told him not to be a stranger and she'd insisted they'd see each other again with a little one-armed thing bumping to his side. Neither had a clue how long it'd be. Hell, he doesn't even have the arm he'd hugged her with anymore. When he about fell off the face of the earth, every passing year had seen her hope diminishing a little more, no matter how she tried to track him down. The UN ban on any colluding between ex-agents only made it harder.

This is something she's owed him and it's been a long time coming, so she won't be letting go any time soon. She laughs softly into worn wool when he scruffs his jaw against her and gives him another squeeze, ready to take her weight back whenever he moves to set her down.

"Definitely too long. God, it's so good to see you again; I've been so worried. All I've done is scour the news for you." That hand at the back of his neck tips him forward as she cranes up, levering herself by his shoulder to press a kiss to his cheek, spoiling him thoroughly. "I've been well enough. How are you? And this arm...?"

Brows pinched with worry: certainly not a new expression of hers, but it does crinkle the corners of her eyes more than it ever used to.

[brambler]

When he'd last seen her, he hadn't intended to be a stranger. But scant months later, the Swiss HQ was in smoking ruins, and all his immunity from the trouble he'd brought on his head with it. He'd never been officially handed his notice of the ban, but he followed it; not because he was instructed to, but because he'd bring trouble onto anyone's doorstep otherwise.

He hefts her up as she hugs up, and then lets her down easily, keeping his hand on the small of her back. At her worried questions, he lets out a soft, abashed laugh.

"Well, at least I left you plenty of news to follow then."

He raises his mechanical arm to scuff at the back of his head.

"I've been doin' okay, Angie. I'm still here, after all. And, ah, might have run into a bit of trouble right after things went south, but it's all old news by this point."

And, indeed; if she catches any look at the gnarled scar tissue where the arm meets cybernetic, it's old and healed over. The work certainly wasn't done professionally, though, and far pales to anything she or Torbjorn could have managed.

"No need to worry over it now."

[cadeuces]

Honestly, Angela had hoped for that trouble to show up on her doorstep; at least she could have helped. She firmly believes it. But there's no changing the past. All she can do right now is savor the way he hefts her up in his arms and how he maintains that tether of human contact once he's set her back down, and watch the warmth in his eyes when leveled with her care.

The elbow creaks just a little when he reaches up and bends his arm to scruff at his nape, and Angie's hands settle on the cybernetic for when he lowers it, requesting his trust so she can have a look over the thing. The scars are indeed old, where she eases his rolled sleeve up to see, but it doesn't much iron the worried creases out from between her brows. He knows how she is; she'll want to be sure on her own.

"You are still here, and I'm very thankful for that. And now we're here, and I have little else to do but worry. Surely you can grant me that. I have a maintenance kit."

And if he gives her his arm, she'll be leaning down to press a kiss where metal seams to flesh, hugging it to her before bumping her brow to his bicep. She's missed him terribly.

"I want to hear about everything."

[brambler]

"Everything's a long story to tell. I suppose you're right, though; we've got nothin' but time."

Not like he could see many exits, in a place like this- not at the moment. The kiss to his arm has him smiling, remembering teasing words to him and Genji about kissing their wounds better, and occasionally following through on the 'threat'. Seems she hasn't lost that spark of fun in her.

He lets her have his arm, and though he doesn't move to disengage it from himself, he won't stop her if she does so. It doesn't seem like it's something he does very often though, despite it being a prosthetic.

"Guessin' you want me to sit down somewhere first, though."

[cadeuces]

Oh, she definitely followed through on that threat, if only to make them smile. Genji especially. The poignancy of someone being comfortable enough to kiss him, even just chaste little things on the cheek or forehead, had meant the world. Jesse was just fun to fluster once she'd grown comfortable with him. Even when he was young and fresh out of a gang, he had always been polite.

And Angela has always been someone who strives for the trust in her patients. Thst hasn't changed, either. She's glad he allows her the arm to have a look over. Nothing too intensive, not yet, but she sees some dings she can likely fix and some grime that needs cleaning, and there's absolutely sand in those poor joints he probably fights to keep clean on the daily. That's New Mexico for you. But true to his word, it's moving well and must have cost him a pretty penny. After flexing the fingers to test them out, she gives him a fond little pat and relinquishes his arm, beaming up at him.

" 'Everything' may be a long story to tell, but I want to hear it all the same. Even if it's only in parts. Why don't we find somewhere quiet, and maybe you'll let me give this a tune-up...? See if I can't figure it out, just in case."

In case anything happens to it, she means. They have no idea what to face here, or what the robots are capable of. She won't want his arm damaged, but more importantly, she wouldn't want him injured. If she can make sure that his arm functions in full, it would significantly lower the chances of that coming to pass, she thinks.

[brambler]

Never mind the arm; there's sand in his very human joints. After that shootout, he'd just about kill again for a shower - but he's been on the run long enough that he won't cry about it if one doesn't materialize.

"If quiet has a place to freshen up, I'm all yours, darlin'."

He'll make a request for one all the same. He's seen the state of the buildings so he's not holding out any hope, here. It's been too long since someone looked at his arm properly, so he has no objections to letting her tune it up.

"Suppose I should do you the justice of explaining how I got it in the first place."

[cadeuces]

That grin of hers only quirks wider to the comeback, laughing under her breath and nodding. Of course he would want to get the sand out of the rest of him, too. How long has it been since he's afforded himself more than quick stops in corner store bathrooms? An actual hotel room seems difficult to acquire in an age of technology and digital payments, leaving trails to track.

"Quiet comes with a place to freshen up, yes. I heard there are some apartments not far from here that people have been using. There's modern plumbing and running water. Feel like sneaking into my quarters, Jesse McCree? And we'll see about these collars."

They never did get around to them, after all. She was too swept away having seen him in the first place. For now she just tips her head for him to follow and moves to pick up her metal suitcase, containing her valkyrie suit and her belongings. They can hunt them out, surely.

"And I suppose I would appreciate that."

[brambler]

She's hit the nail on the head there. Sure, you can find some hole-in-the-wall locations that take cash only, or a credit chip, but usually he just sticks to moving constantly until he can get access to a false identity for a little while.

"Is it sneaking if I'm being invited? Feels awfully silly."

But his good natured tease follows her along, and he offers a hand to take the suitcase if she wants to pawn it off on him to carry. He knows better than to just take it, after all.

Either way, he starts up the story.

"Well... to start, you remember the gang Reyes picked me up from? They didn't take too kindly to me still wearin' that mark of theirs and cashing out bounties."

[cadeuces]

"Why couldn't it be? It sounds more exciting."

When he offers that hand, Angela knows it's an offer for her suitcase but she just takes it with her free hand instead, twining her arm under his and staying close. She had to keep her strength up somehow. She'll lead the way out of the hospital, and the strange apartments dot the base of the hills... or perhaps mountains? The fog seems to obscure much beyond the second story, so it's hard to say how far up they go. Still, the spired roofing is charming, if a bit eerie. It's easy to follow.

By the time he begins to speak, she's set to listening.

"I remember, yes. The Deadlock Gang, right? In the Southwest. That tattoo that was on your forearm?"

[brambler]

The little charmer she's turned out to be, she wraps their hands together and he chuckles, letting her step in close. When she mentions the Deadlock gang, he nods affirmation.

"You got it. Like I said, they didn't take too kindly to it so they, ah, decided to remove it. By any means necessary."

He doesn't think he has to spell that out for her too much.

"Now, I don't mind bein' a one armed gunslinger but you know that doesn't sit right for me, so I ended up findin' a mechanic out in New Mexico that could do me some prosthetic work."

[cadeuces]

Just caught up in missing him and not wanting to let him go, really. He's a hard man to catch. She's tried for six years, already, and it's some other place and people entirely that managed to snag them both by the collar (hah). Her brows pinch when he says any means necessary, glancing back up to him as she squeezes his hand. He didn't have to spell it out, and really, probably shouldn't unless he needs to, but she certainly didn't like it anyway. (If he ever did, she'd likely cry, impotent anger hot as it streaks down her cheeks.)

"I'm so sorry, Jesse. That isn't family."

She knows they had been, at one point. His only family. And then they had Overwatch, and each other. Everything was much better for them both with proper structures, proper social ties— and no one at Overwatch would have taken his arm just for a tattoo and revenge. All she can think is that she should've been there. But he seems to be all right. She'll get a better look once they're somewhere private.

"I'm glad you found someone. It looks sturdy, at least, and like it's gotten you through quite a few tough scrapes."

Once they approach the first of the strange little houses, she starts looking up and observing them all, many dilapidated on the outside but seeming structurally-sound enough to live in. Almost all of them, really. Strange, with the way the rest of the "city" looked, if one could call it such.

And they're all just a little different. Different window placements, some with tiny, tiny bits of green accounting for "yards" around them, some with balconies, some without second stories at all. They walk for quite a ways before she seems to find one with a second story and a balcony that isn't occupied, and she slows to a stop in front of it. The tip of her head is a question she didn't need to speak aloud. What does he think? This one? It's a little more secluded from the others, on a weird bend, but it looks like it has a good view of the mountainside and valley.

[brambler]

That perhaps is what hurt the most. They had been family once upon a time. And although he'd easily been one of the ones chanting to catch a 'runner' in the past, he thought perhaps it wouldn't have come to that.

But, well, here he was with a mechanical arm.

"I know, darlin'. It's a mighty fine design for what it is, truly, but it's not up to snuff to Torbjorn's work or your own."

That's just facts. Of course, Torbjorn would probably have tried to give him a molten core augment for the damn thing, too.

They reach the collection of houses, and he begs off the sad story to help her look around. Not quite cookie cutter suburbia, but he likes how they're all a little different. When she tilts her head at one that's a little further out, a little more secluded, he gives a whistle and a nod.

"Well, that'll do for the night at least."

And - ever the Blackwatch member - he steps forward, a hand on his gun as he moves to check out the outside of the house before heading up the steps, making sure there's no one inside to worry about.