thisavrou_log | Scrap It - Junk Yard [ OPEN! ]

Who: Everybody
When: During the Moira's visit to the Mini Colony
Where: The Mini Colony
What: A junk yard
Warnings: Could be violence but none for now, will update if necessary.

In an area of space known as the Runoff you might expect a junk yard of epic proportions. It would appear that the yard, known on the colony as 'Scrap It', lived up to those expectations.

Positioned at the edge of the colony, it seemed to go on for miles. From scrap metal, to scraps of ships, to scraps of just about anything the mind could imagine, it had made its way to this Mini Colony; this junk yard.

The place was a treasure trove of raw materials for anyone with an eye to pick it and the smarts to develop it! Though the yard did NOT deal in high end tech or software disposal (you’re not going to build an AI from scratch out of this place) some people might recognize bits and pieces that belonged to their worlds. Even without those bits, the particularly crafty might still be able to develop a project or two.

During the day the clientele was pretty much as you’d expect. Mechanics, inventors, bargain hunters all mostly above board types who are simply going about their own business.

At night it’s a slight different story.

Night time in the yard is the time of scavengers and opportunists. Fist fights were a common sight, especially if two or more people were after the same bit of torn bit hose. Physical altercations were often the easier way to go about getting what you wanted, as more enterprising individuals would stake their claim on a bit of the yard, and their 'customers' had to be ready to trade, pay or fight for it.

Bidding wars were a song of the night in the yard.

The yard was manned by employees at all hours. Those in the daylight were fairly easy to find, could even be helpful if asked politely. Those on duty during the night kept to the office and weren't interested in being bothered by what was going on outside; they had ill gotten gains to count!

[ Welcome to Scrap It!

OOC information about the yard can be found here including approval from the mods for characters to find canon items in the yard! If you want to find something and/or want a thread with an NPC for the yard, let me know on the OOC post!

Otherwise, enjoy your dumpster diving! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nah, I'm just really into clunky, unremovable wrist jewelry.

[ It had taken him three months to stop resenting the MID, and some days it's still a tossup.

Once she has a solid grip on his hand, he hauls her to her feet - it's not like she weighs anything - but doesn't immediately release his hold on her hand. ]

You're not gonna fall over if I let go, are you?

[ He doesn't let go, and she . . . she just stares, looking right at him and at the same time, not seeing him at all.

She can hear him.

Everything's there that should be. The fluid elasticity of his muscles and tendons, the soft creek of his joints. The pulse of blood through his veins, echoing his heartbeat. Nothing is missing.

But there's another sound, weaving through every other pattern, every melody, until all together it seems to eclipse them all. A sound she hasn't heard in over a year, and one she never would have thought to hear at all in a human body—the same powerful vibration that had resonated through the geothermal generators hidden within the Tower.

Power. The thrum of energy, the electric crescendo that sang through the Lightning Regalia's core. And it's in him, part of him, played on some instrument as pure as a chemical element and as alien to her as the planet under their feet.

He doesn't let go. She doesn't, either. ]

. . . I'll . . . be okay.

[ You know that moment when something drags on just a little bit too long, and it's apparently only awkward for one of the parties involved? Tony's pretty sure that's what this moment is, and he's the only person who's noticed it's weird. ]

If you say so, champ.

[ He drops her hand, one eyebrow threatening to climb upward. As long as she stays upright as promised, he's gonna count that as a victory. ]

I'm guessing you're new, since I'm pretty sure I would've recognized that hair. [ He's already had to deal with various newbies this past week, and the Ingress loves to do this shit in batches. The theory holds up. ] You know this place is gonna get real sketchy in like an hour, right?

[ She doesn't try and hold on at all, drawing her hand back as soon as he lets go. Her focus comes back with it . . . though her eyes linger on the faint glow of his chest before fully looking up. ]

Fifty-six minutes.

. . . I haven't been with the Moria long at all. Just since this morning. They said . . . we wouldn't be docked here for much longer, though.

What are you looking for?

[ If her obvious distraction bothers him, he doesn't show it. Eyes lingering on the arc reactor is something that happens as a matter of course, almost universally. The day Tony'd come to accept that as an inevitability was the day he decided hiding it would be too much of a pain in the ass to bother with.

He casts a glance over his shoulder, back to the pile of scraps he'd been sorting through, and the two stuffed duffel bags perched atop it. Since nobody's slunk in to steal them yet, he turns his attention back to Kururu. ]

Hold up.

[ Fifty-six minutes? Strangely specific, but okay. ]

You've been here less than a day and the first place you decide to come is a free-shankings-in-space scrapyard?

[ He'll get around to answering the question actually posed to him in a minute, maybe. ]

The third place!

Ahh, it's amazing, isn't it? I didn't think big would mean this big.

[ His glance back to the bags reminds her . . . she crouches down (carefully), looking around until she finds the small hub motor he'd tossed away. ]

Or that it would really have this much . . .

[ As it becomes clear that, indeed, she is not here by accident (and isn't about to collapse from a brain bleed), Tony fixes her with an appraising look. Aside from those suffering from sheer boredom, there's really only one type of person who'd get excited about a place like this: people who're good with their hands, with the callouses the match. ]

And what is it you're looking for?

Me?

[ Under her own power, it takes her just a little longer to stand up again. Careful movements, a little slow—even without deeper damage, it's still going to be one heck of a bruise. ]

Looking for something . . . kind of makes it sound like I know what there is to find. And I don't know that at all. I didn't think there'd be anything like this . . .

[ She holds the motor like it's something remarkable, not something completely useless. ]

I just came to see what's here.

[ Tony wanders over to retrieve his wayward duffel, the open zipper revealing a seemingly nonsensical array of items: scraps of metal, wiring that looks like it came out of something that hadn't worked in many years, metal coils and rusted over tools. ]

The answer to that is a tentative "just about anything," but with a "nothing that still works" caveat.

[ He eyes the motor she's all but cradling in her hands. ]

That thing, for example, probably hasn't fulfilled its given purpose since long before you were even born.

[ She eyes the bag with no small amount of interest, as much assessing as curious. There's not a project there, for all that the selection has a distinct robotics bent. Spare parts?

His comment snaps her attention back to the here and now, and to her own small find. ]

It's more . . . since 'long after', isn't it? This design . . .

[ She rubs at the place where the manufacturer's serial number would be, long obscured by rust. ]

It came out two years ago. Two years for me, I mean. But this part's lived a lot older than I have.

Wait. You recognize that?

[ Tony slides closer until he can peer at it in more detail, brow furrowed - it doesn't look like anything particularly noteworthy to him, at least not in the sense that he could pinpoint a timeframe or manufacturer. ]

Like, that model specifically?

Mm! I do.

[ She tilts it so he can get a better view, glancing up to watch him. Looking for a glimmer of recognition, maybe, and just as curious when there's none to be found. ]

I couldn't tell you the company. It's mass produced, not custom work . . . a lot of the identifiers would be in the casing instead of the internals. And with the coils seized, I can't check the rotation.

You know your shit.

[ Said like, "huh." ]

And a familiar part in the great wide universal pit of junk... [ He rubs his chin thoughtfully, brow furrowed. It's surprising anything around here can surprise him anymore, but there it is. ] That's gotta be more Ingress nonsense, unless it fell out of your pockets on the way in.

[ Which begs the question, if he kept looking, would he find something with the name STARK emblazoned across it? ]

Scrap It - Junk Yard [ OPEN! ]

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