ercookies | TDM 002

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TDM 002

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?

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N A V I G A T I O N

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She will eventually get to wondering how he's going to read his A5. And, let's be honest, what's on it. Sensory deprivation, as a joke? The appearance of "drunk sex" on hers has to be one.

His joke going by the wayside, Jess's brows knit incisively at his appraisal of the water. It doesn't necessarily surprise her that he taste it down to the chemical level, she just hasn't taken into account the long list of practical uses his powers have. She'll be wondering about that later as well. ]

So you'd be able to tell if the food's drugged? [ She stops herself short of getting to her feet and fetching the rations, then and there. Can doesn't equate to will and it's a shitty favour to ask of him: Be my poison taster? Regardless of the carte blanche kindness he offered her several minutes ago. ]

Yes and no. It's... everything here's a bit different. I should be able to get a baseline on what is and isn't, but it's going to be a trial and error. I can tell you if I pick up anything strange, anything that shouldn't be there.

[He tipped his head to the side, listening to her muscles tense, then relax.]

Stick, he- he taught me how to expand what I could pick up on. Appreciation for ice cream takes on a new level when you can tell how many dairy farms contributed to a batch. I can tell you what I pick up. If it's there in one and not in another, and there's... well. A reaction, then it gives me a better leg to stand on.

Unless they have some form of hiding it that I'm not aware of. Any additives leave flavors. Scents. Changes in texture. I don't know how they could hide that entirely. You're not sure about what they've been giving you? Jesus, Jess. You're not starving yourself, are you?

[She couldn't exactly afford to lose the weight.]

[ Right. Yeah. Jess nods along and logs what he's saying, distilling the long explanation into concise bullet points. The process takes refining. It's based in experience, not empirical and exact like the readout of a centrifuge. It's a skill of no use to either of them yet. Which all makes sense. If she's disappointed in anyone, it's herself. She's the one acting foolish, exposing how eager she is to score some peace of mind. ]

No. [ She responds tersely, misdirecting her frustration. ] I eat. Sometimes it's fine. Sometimes it's spiked. I just wait it out.

[ And/or go it solo. Her low, infrequent appetite is none of his business. It's a symptom of a sickness for which she's unable to self-medicate these days. ]

Uh huh.

[Hear that? That was judgement, Jessica Jones. Judgement and sympathy. And maybe a little curiosity and uncertainty. It wasn't like she had to go around with an erection all day. How uncomfortable could being turned on for a woman really be? Other than being amenable to suggestions- which she could just negate by throwing someone out a window.

Ah, the folly of being a guy. He just didn't get it.]

You want me to be your food tester, Jess?

[ Ironically, the other boon to her appetite is sex. She misses when that was a one-way street. ]

Not everything. [ She still sounds defensive, partly because of his tone and partly because that indeed was her first idea. When he says it out loud, she realizes it's ridiculous. What is he gonna do, nibble a corner off everything in her ration package, every time she gets one? With how the odds have been shaking out, she will end up starving, if she knows exactly what to avoid before she starts eating. The safe portion won't amount to enough. ]

But if I ever get my hands on some sugar and bread, I'd like to run them past you. [ When the going gets tough, the tough make prison wine. ]

[His lips twitched as he blinked hazel eyes at her, his attempt at not grinning at her.]

You planning to show me to a working bathroom if some of those things happen to be, ah... contaminated?

[Sure, he could nibble her food. He had no problem being a tester when it would give her peace of mind. These were little things. But he was also not aware of how potent any of these additives could be. That part was still a bit of a joke to him.]

Hand me a sock?

[Yep. He'd gone there. Sorry not sorry, Jess.]

[ Oh no. Her amusement is restricted to a tiny snort and he'll take that as a mountainous accomplishment. He caught her off guard, is all. He's not funny! ]

I'd tie you up like a werewolf if I didn't think that'd make you hornier. [ Alluding to the thought she hadn't voiced, that his masochism may extend from the streets to the sheets. She sips her water and reads him intently. Scooping up people's dirty little secrets was her profession. She wouldn't mind sniffing out one or two of his, swap the spotlight on their sexual pasts. ]

[His hand lifted up to his tie, giving it a light tug before he smoothed it down over his chest. Yes, okay, fine. She'd pegged him right there. He'd played the tie-me-up game with Elektra and had found he really liked it.

Really liked it. Same with a few other things that pushed the line in terms of normal, vanilla, Catholic-approved sex. His cheeks were pink and he knew it. Nothing he could do about it. Just sip his water and lick his lips after as he turned his head towards her.]

I wouldn't expect you to think a little slap and tickle was beyond the pale, Jones.

[ Swing and a hit. Jess smirks, contented to be right about something that isn't exemplary of the futility of their situation. It's an infinitesimal victory but she'll take it. She sinks against the couch, head tipped slightly back. ]

The only thing I think is beyond the pale is the phrase "slap and tickle." [ Judging by his fidgeting and his flush, risky sex is easier to simply have than it is to talk about. She can relate to him, there. Several squares on her A5 are unlikely to ever get crossed off, if it means discussing boundaries beforehand. That baggage is for relationships and those can barely survive under normal circumstances. Forget making it work on Sex Island. ]

I happen to like the phrase "slap and tickle". It denotes a playfulness to it that "spank and spurt" doesn't.

[He just made that up, but he'd done it with the intent to get another reaction from her. Hey, if she could push his buttons, he'd happily push them right back. That's sort of how they rolled, and he had caught himself being surprised at how easily they slipped on the same track.

That didn't stop his grin, or the quick wink he shot her- or attempted to shoot her.]

I've been to your apartment, Jones. I'm not the only... enthusiastic party in the room.

[ "Spank and spurt", for how made up it is, denotes a crudeness that befits the setting. Jess levels a frank look at him and sets her glass back down. ]

You smelled that, huh? [ She made the right call moving on from her first apartment here, then. To her comparatively inelegant sense, it reeks of sex. Perverse tidings to the next person who inhabits it. Then again, they're probably all splatter houses under a black light.

She gesticulates "What can I say?" with a shrug. ]

Helps me sleep and I like to fuck.

No judgement here. Not over that.

[Sex was... well. He missed it. He'd been using his alternative lifestyle to sort of replace that need. Tit for tat, so to speak. But she was right. It always had helped him sleep.]

Besides, it's better than warm milk or a white noise machine some nights.

[ Can he smell her sheets in the other room? The absence of anyone else on them? Fine, she supposes, as long as there's no judgment over that either. One month isn't a ton of time to smear the walls with lovers' musk or whatever. There's greater convenience in spending the night at someone else's, too. Leaving is a smoother disengagement than kicking her partner out, whether in the morning or as soon as they're done. ]

Yeah, good luck with those. [ Needless to say, she's not sleeping well. She figures that was obvious the moment they started talking. Existentially, spiritually, physically, you name it and she's Tired. ] I hear the ocean's soothing. Or, you know, just hook up.

[ No judgment from her. Just some more teasing. ]

[Yes, he can, but he's not actively trying to. It's just part of picking up the ambient surroundings. He wouldn't judge her if there'd been one, two, or a hundred. This wasn't his place to throw his weight around, and she'd been here longer than him. If anything, he was curious if she had... parteken at all since being here. She felt tired to him.

Her comment has his lips curving up in another grin.]

I've been a little busy lately. Plus... well. It's difficult. And there's questions.

[Karen had been the last attempt for him, and they hadn't gotten to the sleeping together part. There were too many questions from a potential lover. Too many things he'd have to hide behind. Too many lies unless they were in on it. Not to mention having to explain the marks he picked up during his nocturnal occupation, or the scars he had all over his body.]

Let's just say that it's been awhile.

[Since he'd picked up that first black mask to cover his face with. There'd been some almosts; Claire, Karen, Elektra again, but... let's just say he was a bit pent up.]

Not sure how that option's going to go here.

[ Despite his charm and good looks, she's not at all surprised to hear he's in the middle of a dry spell. They knew each other for a week and here they are getting on like old friends. Based on the cases she researched him taking, he formed attachments at the drop of a sad hat. One-off sex doesn't vibe with his whole deal, though he'd have no trouble if he went looking. Randoms, or actioning the electricity she observed in his brief interactions with Claire and Page. The two of them have chemistry, for christ's sake. Staunched libido indiscriminately pouring out wherever it could.

The Daredevil problem is a separate can of worms, one she's too familiar with. So is Luke, having been the damsel in that distressing passion play. Trish may knock meaningless sex but it's the safest kind. Not everyone can be as good at it as her.

She smirk that dampened quizzically with his follow-up joke returns to full brilliance. ]

No shit, Matt. I mean, you play ball one time, you might restore power to the whole island. [ No offense? Kind of offense. ]

[There's a snort that turns into a laugh as his head tips back.]

Are you implying I'm a bit backed up, Jess?

[Hell, she was doing more than implying it, but he couldn't fault her, or argue with it. He was in need of a good release of energy that wasn't a quick moment in a shower to get his pants to fit. The laugh trailed off and he leaned back against the couch, eyes gazing off ahead of himself as he tapped his fingers on his thigh.

If he'd had access to that thought, he'd agree on all fronts. There was always an undercurrent of attraction between a lot of people he came across. Hell, even Foggy sometimes flirted with him in a friendly heterolifemate kind of way that never failed to amuse him. Jessica was... Jessica. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested. She could break his pelvis mid-fuck. Crush his throat. She was dangerous.

Hell if that didn't turn him on. But she was also starting to, or had been starting to, become his friend. Or something... he wasn't sure. She was already in that pocket of his life where 'he gave a shit about her', and he oddly enough seemed to always lean that way to the women he gave a shit about. Claire. Karen. But once he actually gave a shit, he knew they could do better. Probably should. He was a mess.]

I'll use that as a selling point if it comes down to it. Think it'll work?

[ She's shown her cards that she gives a damn about him. With one exception, that historically spells disaster for the subject of her loyalty. Matt has the unique advantage of fucking up his own life so spectacularly she has difficulty picturing how she can contribute -- beyond being complicit in his martyrdom.

A lack of imagination won't guarantee his safety, however. Her capacity for self-destruction could put the Midland explosives to shame. When and if she breaks this sobriety streak, he should batten every hatch he has. The tension and ease she feels with him are water and oil. Tough to mix but fun to shake up.

It's all ease, watching him laugh. Her mind takes a snapshot, a memory to call on when her guilt is erupting in a nightmare. ]

Not even as a last resort. Stick to reading Braille with your tongue.

Isn't that supposed to be 'spelling out the alphabet with my tongue'?

[Yep. There was that casual cheek. It should be weird, this... familiarity he has with her when they've known each other for so little time. But they're both New Yorkers. Both different. Both traumatized and broken, and both of them have picked up the pieces they could find to tape themselves back together. He can see the light that glistens through her, the bits she couldn't find to tape back in to fully shield herself. Good, bad, all those glimpses of the person she doesn't want to show to the rest of the world.

He can give her the illusion that he's blind to it, just like she doesn't entirely rub his own stupidity in his face all the time. Casual flirtatious banter? Easy. The potential for it to go somewhere?

Well, he'd be stupid to think it wasn't there somewhere. Simmering just under the surface. But he wasn't going to be the one to make the first move. Not with her.]

I can do that in two languages, you know.

[Okay, fine. He wouldn't make the first physical move. Teasing didn't count.]

Mandarin?

[ That's quite a compelling case, if he's telling the truth. And if he's just putting her on, it's all the same because she'd bet that he gives head eagerly if not expertly. His ability to read the subtlest signals must allow him to course correct with an efficiency that borders on anticipatory.

Body-reading isn't exactly mind-reading but one could bridge the difference with familiarity and deduction. Conclude why what works and what doesn't. He's gleaned enough of her background to do that. Another reason Jess has sex is to get out of her head. Sex with Matt would entrench her in it from the start. A lifeline of liquor would loosen her up; without it, she won't seriously consider exploiting his talents.

She might consider it musingly, on her own time, after having a bite to eat. ]

Damn. Good to know.

Spanish. It seemed like a good second language to pick up if I was going to work in Hell's Kitchen.

[There was also a little French in there, thanks to Elektra. When one dates above their class level, there's a few bonuses for it. Like being able to know the taste of high-end food and alcohol and knowing what was worth it and what wasn't.

She was quiet, thinking, and his lips moved into a crooked grin as he raised a brow at her.]

Jessica Jones, are you genuinely contemplating my oral skills beyond those of defending you in court? I'm flattered.

[His hand came up to smooth his tie down, a little gloating grin staying in place as he draped his arm along the back of the sofa. Truth be told, there were a few things about her that he was curious about, without the need for spiked food. Maybe it was because he was male. Maybe it was because he'd had a dry spell. Or maybe he just had good taste, despite what she might think.

He thought about just how dangerous she could be if she had any actual fighting skills beyond "Jessica Smash!" If she could pick up any boxing or martial arts? She'd be lethal.

And there he went, turning himself on again.]

[ Her shoulders slump dejectedly. Spanish? That's the same alphabet. Doesn't count. Chinese characters are intricate knots of lines, blunt and curving. Sexier between the legs, though Matt's Spanish is likely easy on the ears (well, her ears). ]

Considering I've never contemplated letting you defend me in court, it's not that high a bar to clear.

[ She can't have him getting too big for his britches. Validation is available for him elsewhere, if he really wants it. Nobody else can take an educated jab at his legal capabilities, which she's happy to target over his probable sexual prowess. A woman as ferocious as Elektra wouldn't settle for less than proven confidence. ]

You've been smart enough to avoid having to wind up in court. You, Jessica Jones, are actually on the right side of the law. It's one of the reasons I took Foggy up on taking your case- which you didn't need a lawyer for.

[And that was another thing he liked about her, another similarity between them. She bent the law. Sure, she took evidence from a crime scene, but they hadn't been able to prove it. And she was... different. Enhanced. The cops had jobs they were qualified for, but there were some things they just couldn't handle. Like resurrected ninjas assassins. Or Elektra. And Jones had swept right in the middle of it and done the right thing. That was what separated her from a certain ex of his. They were both lethal as hell and gorgeous, but they were on opposite sides of that line. He had to get Elektra to blur hers towards being good. Jess... he just had to try to keep her sober some times. Or maybe join her in a beer after enough shit had hit the fan.

But he hadn't missed the slump of her shoulders at his answer, and he felt his lips turning up again.]

Considering where most of the crap we've had to deal with originates, maybe it wouldn't hurt to pick up a little Japanese or Mandarin.

[ His opinion of her is too high by a mile. Evidence that there's plenty his jacked up super senses and diligent digging haven't and can't uncover. Reva. Ruben. Luke. Murder, desecration, stalking. The rage that breaks free when she's ripping robots limb from limb, that pulls her deep down inside her head to a place she never wants to go again. A few secrets are still hers but no relief comes with the reminding.

She can ruminate on so little of that while he's grinning like a thousand watt bulb. He offers up a deflection before she has to craft her own; she's grateful enough for that that he can keep on grinning a bit longer. ]

I only had to deal with that crap since I met you. You pick it up. I'm gonna punch robots. [ They're multilingual. ]

[Rage and relief didn't make her a bad person. Someone dying at the hands of someone else because of their sick fascination with her wasn't her fault. Maybe one day they could chat about it and he could try to get her to believe it. He'd probably fail, but hey, he'd try. She wasn't a saint. She wasn't a paragon of virtue. But she wasn't a bad person.]

Fair. But whatever shall I do with any newfound knowledge of my multilingual skills? If you punch a robot like you throw cars, I think I might just camp out and enjoy the show.

[ She punches robots much harder. Her grudge against cars isn't nearly as fresh a wound. ]

With or without a visual interpreter?

[ The rest of the audience might question what a guy with a white cane finds so fascinating about a series of crashes and clangs. Jess is curious how sustainable his blind act will be in a city with the population of a secluded hamlet. Arguably, the need for Daredevil does exist, in the form of the haywire enforcers. But the need to obfuscate his identity? It's still too early to tell.

She's not hiding her abilities, nor is she advertising them, and she's met others with the same approach. ]

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