[She promised Connor down beneath the lake that she would keep trying to be Hank's friend... and it's not so hard. He reminds her of some of the men at the lumber yard. A bit cantankerous, a bit grump, maybe you shouldn't give them too much sake... but maybe nice beneath all that?
Something like that!
So once they get back up from the tunnels, once she recovers from what she'd experienced down there... Konoha comes poking around Hank's room, sniffing. She smells dog, so maybe he's in there.
[Konoha's lucky she got here late enough that Hank's actually up and washed, though not late enough that he's gotten over his hangover. After a longish moment he makes it close enough to open the door and leans on the doorway, his expression tense and uncomfortable.
He's also not wearing pants. Konoha caught him when he's up and clean, but his one pair of pants isn't done being washed yet. His shirt is damp; answering the door in boxers is one thing, answering it shirtless is another, even if his shirt isn't done airdrying yet.]
What.
[No, wait. He's talking to a horse chest. He looks up. There's nothing for surprising a guy out of his morning bitchiness like finding some huge muscled thing on the other side of your door.
But he met Konoha before the whole weird factor of this place really started to get to him. She's fine.
Hank rubs hard at his eyes, reminding himself that. Konoha's nice. She likes Sumo. She's fine.]
Yeah? Um, is something wrong? You need something?
[He's trying - and succeeding - at sounding less unfriendly than he did a moment ago, although all that really means is that he just sounds kind of brusque and tired.]
[Lucky thing that Hank, who's sent texts a lot like this, speaks that particular language. That means he's free to just look down at his watch for a second after he reads it, one corner of his lips drifting up.]
mayb i did n already got shit out. the fish here r kinda assholes
[ welp, after inadvertently exposing Hank to his horrible experience-based nightmare dimension Simon is extra interested in tracking him down and making sure he’s... okay? Probably not, but. Around. ]
Hey, Hank. You around? Just wanted to check in and see how you’re holding up... [ Which he thinks better of immediately: ] Probably shitty, like the rest of us.
[Somehow his watch's set to reply on video by default so that's what happens first, while he's just hit reply and is still too half-asleep to think about it. The room's dim, maybe half the sunlight that's trying to get in making it through the shutters. The camera's too close at a skewed angle, catching mostly mattress and bedhair.]
Um. What th' fuck? Right, uh-
[A fist moves into view as Hank shoves it into an eye, turning his wrist so he can squint into the watch.]
Simon. Right, fuck, uh. Weird to just hear you like this, like before I knew- before we knew each other.
[Shit, that was smooth. Hank turns his face to give a good try at burying it into the mattress with a groan.]
Fuck. Hey, is what I meant. Hey man.
[He turns his face back just enough that he can breathe a little and aim an eye at the screen, realizing after a couple seconds that there's nothing there to see. Cause Simon's on audio. Right. Right.]
[Hank's going to be damp when he answers the door, him and his clothes, but that was the right call, he still thinks. The smell's gone anyway, mostly. His eyes are a little red now, probably, but he can do fuckall about it except just ignore it and hope the other guy does, too. Also, pretzels. Food sounds fine. Hank can probably still do the hanging out and drinking together thing, he's still okay at doing that.]
Hank. its Izuku. ah i guess it says that on the message doesnt it?
its been a few days since it all happened and its weird to be back here so i just wanted to see how youre doing. i mean probably not well but if you need anything... i owe you.
[ Since their return to the Temple, A4 has remained quiet to give others space for a couple of days, spending a majority of the passing days with distractions. Today though, she's out and about, itching to stretch her legs. She takes the opportunity to check on whoever she comes across, friends and acquaintances.
She stops before the door to Hank's room, giving a polite knock. Usually she's a little more louder and lively, but even she knows now's not the time for that given recent events. ]
[The door pushes open a little when she knocks on it, and a little further when Sumo noses his way out to her. The room behind him is quiet and dim, shutters closed over the windows, and Sumo sniffing at her legs is the only greeting she gets.]
[It’s not the crowd that’s getting to him- or, it’s not the fact that he’s in a crowd. Surrounded by enough people to remind him he’s alive, by enough noise to drown out his thoughs, it’s a big part of what used to make going to shows so great, back in the days when he went. But this crowd it’s, it’s weird, weird in a way he doesn’t recognize, there’s a guy with eyes on the back of his head over there, and a girl with tentacle arms, and Hank’s watch is gone, and that doesn’t necessarily mean much but he doesn’t remember taking it off-
If that fucking airhead Astoria screwed up a try at sending him home, just dumped him in a random dimension that isn’t his and, apparently, just fucking left him here, couldn’t it at least have been somewhere that wasn’t weird?
God, that doesn’t matter. It’s not like anyone back home will give a shit if he never gets back. What matters is his fucking dog.]
Sumo.
[He tries to back up without really thinking about it, just wanting to get some distance so he can get a better look at everything, figure out his options. But he steps on something and hears the kind of animal yelp that instantly, instinctively makes him feel guilty and then it’s followed up with a growl - an honest to god growl - from behind him, right at the level of his face, and he turns around slow and he’s face to face with...
He doesn’t even know how to think about it. With a furry? Face to muzzle with a pissed off furry. Right. This is fine. He can deal with this.]
Sorry man, I didn’t see your, uh-
[He glances at what he’d stepped on.]
-your tail, that’s what that is, your tail there.
[Pissed off furry snaps his teeth at Hank and if Hank thinks about this later he’ll realize that was probably just meant as a warning, but in the moment what he does is dart a hand out to grab the guy’s shoulder. Hank meant to push him away but the moment he touches him the guy tenses up, his dark eyes going wide, and gives a sharp bark. Hank yanks his hand away, not sure if that was him or not, and holds his hands in front of him, palms out.]
Hey hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to. I know we’ve both got places we’d rather be so why don’t we just call this an accident and get on with our shit?
[At that moment, a figure dressed in bright green drops down next to them, seemingly out of nowhere and out of the sky and with movements so quick that he appeared to be a bright blur. However, now that he's stopped, the figure is just a young boy dressed in a green jumpsuit. Obviously a Hero or a Hero-In-Training to anyone from this world.
Izuku didn't usually interfere in these sorts of situations. For heroes, it wasn't really appropriate, their goal was to stop villains not conflicts between folks on the streets. But Izuku being Izuku... he just couldn't help himself. He had to make sure that no one was going to get hurt.]
Hey... is everything okay? It seems like maybe you just had a little accident. Nothing to fight over, right? It wouldn't be good if you started just using your Quirks in the middle of the street to fight over something so small.
[He speaks to Hank like a stranger and like someone who is from the weird world he always called home back at the circle.]
[When the hangover doesn’t kill him, Hank takes a walk. That’s not something he does anymore, walking for the hell of it - it’s not even something he used to do, really, unless walking Sumo counts - but if he’s not in his house Connor can’t find him. When he’d walked away from Connor he’d said he needed to think and the time between then and now wasn’t enough, he still has thinking to do, and Connor the WonderDroid can do a lot of shit but making things simple and easy to understand’s never been one of them.
Well, that and he needs to get his car. But avoiding any possibility of Connor for a little bit is the important thing.
He looks around as he walks. It’s the same world here around him that he left - that he didn’t leave, that he dreamed, that he didn’t actually miss, except for the way the monotonous little miseries of it, the stupid tragedies he sees at work, the cold war bullshit that comes at him every time he turns on the news, it’s all at least familiar enough to be boring, normal, mostly explicable. That dimension hopping hero bullshit had a lot going on, but it couldn’t hope to give him normal.
Except sometimes. Except almost, with some people. There are people that he misses. Which is stupid. Even if they were real, even if the stuff Connor told him back there did end up happening once he got back, it’s not like he doesn’t have other problems.
The park he’s walking past now isn’t the one his car is at. He’d never had a reason to go to this one; this one’s for adults, so the other one’d always been a better use of his then-precious free time. This one’s kind of boring anyway, just a bunch of trees and bushes and nature shit, but it’s the people who catch his eye. There’s more of them out than usual, more people carrying their own groceries, walking their own pets. It’s almost enough to make a guy grateful to the whole deviant thing, the glitch or virus or whatever the fuck it is that’s scaring people into abandoning their mechanical maids and doing shit for themselves again.
Almost. Almost grateful. Until he remembers the girls from last night - the androids. The way they held hands when they ran, the room full of machines that looked just like them waiting to either get pulled out of storage or tossed in the trash. The androids who would have been carrying these people’s groceries and walking their dogs, they’re probably all headed for a junkyard now. Those androids probably don’t even know, or care, because they can’t. It probably doesn’t matter.
This park’s got a little stage too, he remembers when he walks by it. It’s the kind of thing that gets used for bands just started out, little shows, usually about the same time as holidays and parades and whatever the fuck kind of reason people have for leaving their houses and standing around in the cold to celebrate stupid shit. Once he gets behind a thinner spot in the little crowd he sees Christmas decorations, little animatronic snowmen and all that cutesy crap, and starts walking faster. With the microphone and speakers all set out like that it looks like someone’s planning on playing soon, and if Christmas music’s about to start blasting around the place he’d better make tracks. It’s not like he needs another reason to puke this morning.]
[Where Hank sees the ordinary, Mettaton sees bright opportunity.
He doesn't know what happened. He had only been with the circle for a short while, but he thought he was establishing himself quite well. Others knew him coming before he even rounded the corner, and he knew he left a strong impression with whoever he interacted with. More than all of that, he'd been able to acquaint himself with humans. It wasn't the Surface he imagined, and he couldn't fulfill his dream to its fullest there, but it held for him other aspects of intrigue.
This place, however... It's a city, bustling with people (all human, he thinks; there's no reason for him to question otherwise) going about their lives. It reminds him of the way the Surface looks in the movies he used to watch, with all of its enchanting imperfections and charm. ...Honestly, it's more imperfect than charming: it's not that nice, but Mettaton appreciates that. That's why it needs him, to introduce his brand of spark! That's the opportunity he sees, even if he doesn't understand what caused him to lose contact with the circle and end up here, which he can only assume is the Surface. Finally. It must be. Why else would he be here?
The simple act of walking down a sidewalk has heads turning, and Mettaton basks in the attention, even though he can detect some discomfort and confusion from his onlookers. Landing on people's periphery doesn't always start out with abject admiration, he reminds himself. There's nowhere for him to go but up, whenever the opportunity strikes.
And that opportunity presents itself to him in the form of a stage in front of a small crowd. Mettaton smirks at the empty stage and unremarkable audience, the gears turning in his mind. Any chance he can take to get his image out there is one he has to seize; he feels his nerves alight with anticipation, and it draws him forward like a magnet to his metallic figure.
Immediately he knows what role to assume: without knowledge of the programming and without props, a sound mixer, lighting cues, or anything to form a show out of, he can't make the most out of this stage as an actor, singer, or dancer. What remains is the charismatic host, a malleable role which he can easily perform on the fly. He saunters up to the back of the stage and plucks the microphone from its place in wait. The tech crew can only sputter in protest as he makes his entrance on stage, a strangely built robot in hot pinks and shiny blacks usurping their average, less ostentatious host.
Mettaton spans his arms out with gusto, flashing the audience a confident smile. In a booming voice, Hotland's idol introduces the show before it's quite ready to go live. They'll have to embrace him once they see that he can turn even an intro into something remarkable, he decides.]
WELCOME, BEAUTIES!! TO YOUR LONG-AWAITED PERFORMANCE! LONG-AWAITED, IN THAT IT ONLY HAPPENS ONCE EVERY THREE-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE DAYS. BUT IT'S THE SPIRIT THAT BRINGS YOU LOVELY PEOPLE HERE! ENDURING THE BITTER COLD FOR THIS ANNUAL EVENT... OOH, THERE MUST BE SOMETHING SPECIAL ABOUT OUR WONDERFUL SHOW THIS AFTERNOON! ASIDE FROM THEIR RESTRICTED AVAILABILITY AND SEASONAL RELEVANCE.
[He has the crowd's attention, all right... If not for his absurd energy, then for his odd appearance. Mettaton steals a glance at the performance's group name, which is fortunately visible to him stage right on the face of a bag of equipment. He announces it in stride before animatedly clutching the microphone with two hands.]
BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THEM! YOU'LL ONLY HAVE ALL AFTERNOON TO DEDICATE THE REMNANTS OF YOUR ATTENTION TO THEIR ACT, ESPECIALLY AFTER HAVING THE SHOW EFFECTIVELY STOLEN BY A SHOW-STOPPING ROBOT!! I'M YOUR HOST, METTATON!
[Dramatically he presses his fingers to his chest in a flourish. Even from his position up on stage, he fails to notice Hank from his vantage point. The ill-prepared tech crew only gawks like they're watching an apartment building be swallowed by flames. What else can you do at something which disturbs the mundane on this level? Mettaton remains completely unaware of any turmoil between androids and humans — to him, this is the Surface.]
[Those assholes just had to say it on a fucking broadcast, didn't they? They just fucking had to hijack Stratford Tower and make it a big fucking announcement - they had to tell people that they're alive, that they want to be free. And that means-
Well, mostly what it means is that things just got a whole lot more goddamn complicated. The FBI - that prick Perkins - might or might not be taking his case, and he should be happy that the prick's probably never heard the word cooperation and that all the android bullshit's maybe going to get taken off his hands. It means that people have started dumping their androids, which he should also be happy about. People doing shit for themselves, for a change, not relying on a bunch of roombas with faces to be their nannies and dogwalkers and maids. It's the kind of thing, a couple months ago, he would been thrilled about.
He catches himself watching the couple crossing the road next to him, watching the android trailing after them and imagining it lying all fucked up in a junkyard somewhere. He looks down at the crosswalk with a disgusted noise. All he's got to do is cross this street and walk for about a minute and then he and this whiskey will be a short drive away from a hot date at his house. It should be Jimmy's, a bar with a no-androids sign on the door full of people who know him should be just what he wants right now. But it isn't.
He's got a lot in his head right now. Too much to think about the traffic. You never think about the traffic - even Hank doesn't, really. Not unless he's in a certain kind of mood. It's just traffic. He's got bigger things to worry about.]
[It's three PM and, though Hank doesn't know it, the leader of the android revolution is missing. Stratford Tower, which was supposed to have become a crime scene about an hour or two ago, is running just fine. It's been broadcasting exactly what it's supposed to, hasn't been hijacked, hasn't transmitted a list of demands and a declaration of android personhood to the whole of Detriot - and, as a result, the whole of America, and as a result of that, eventually, to the whole of the world. The revolution of androids here hasn't seeded the inspiration for anything else, anywhere else. It may never, now.
The revolution, at this stage, is delicate, and its players for the most part aren't the kind of people who can lead any kind of operation at all. Without Markus, the revolution will fail. Without North, it won't even last long enough to make it into the news.
Hank doesn't know about any of this. He wouldn't know what to think about it if he did, so ignorance is probably better. Last night on its own is hard enough for him to handle. Between being fucking slapped awake and being shoved off to another crime scene while he was caught in that hellscape between 'hungover' and 'still drunk', he hadn't really had time to process the longest, weirdest dream he's ever had, all the cross-dimensional magic shit where he'd talked to androids like they were fucking people, the fact that one stupid dream had felt like it'd lasted so long Hank had genuinely forgotten what parts of his house looked like. There'd been too much going on right from the moment he'd woken up to think about any of that. And what they'd found at that crime scene-
He remembers talking to Connor about it. He should; he'd been sort of almost temporarily sober, then. Those two girls, he'd said. Those two androids. They just wanted to be together. They really seemed... in love.
That dream... that stupid dream about shit that can't exist can fucking wait. He's having enough trouble with fucking reality.
He sighs, moving toward one side of the hall to make way for someone who really needs to get wherever it is they're going. Not that he himself's that busy - it's quiet so far today, which feels weird after everything that happened yesterday, a day that'd been packed with weird shit even before that dream and the goddamn Eden Club. Hank did come into work this morning, once he accepted that the hangover wasn't going to kill him, but he's kind of regretting it now and maybe heading out of homicide and its big, open room full of people who keep trying to get him to respond to their fucking emails and bugging him to approve their requests for shit isn't the way Hank should deal with all that but it's the way Hank is dealing with it. There are little offices back here near the labs, a few rooms not being used for anything that he can hide out in, and there are fewer people back here, too. Maybe back here he'll be able to just fucking breathe, maybe he'll be able to think. He looks around as he goes, glancing into rooms to see if they're empty, trying to scope out who's around in case someone goes running back to tell on him.]
[It's rare when there's an anachronism from a time point that's her past, but the Legends' future. But when Gideon brings up that Markus and North have suddenly disappeared from their place in the timeline and it's ... bad.
So much hinges on them being where they need to be, it's such a pivotal moment in the grand scheme of things that she doesn't bother to wait for the team. She just climbs into the jump ship to try and get a head start. In order to find out where things were at with the investigation, she needs to get into the police mainframe. So to the police station she goes.
This will totally be fine.
She makes her way into one of the server rooms, trying to find somewhere she can plug in when the door opens behind her and she freezes, turning around and raising one hand to her totem, just in case she needs to protect herself.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
surprise action;
Something like that!
So once they get back up from the tunnels, once she recovers from what she'd experienced down there... Konoha comes poking around Hank's room, sniffing. She smells dog, so maybe he's in there.
Trying to be polite, she knocks first.]
Hello... ?
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He's also not wearing pants. Konoha caught him when he's up and clean, but his one pair of pants isn't done being washed yet. His shirt is damp; answering the door in boxers is one thing, answering it shirtless is another, even if his shirt isn't done airdrying yet.]
What.
[No, wait. He's talking to a horse chest. He looks up. There's nothing for surprising a guy out of his morning bitchiness like finding some huge muscled thing on the other side of your door.
But he met Konoha before the whole weird factor of this place really started to get to him. She's fine.
Hank rubs hard at his eyes, reminding himself that. Konoha's nice. She likes Sumo. She's fine.]
Yeah? Um, is something wrong? You need something?
[He's trying - and succeeding - at sounding less unfriendly than he did a moment ago, although all that really means is that he just sounds kind of brusque and tired.]
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text; early november
[Lieutenant!!!!!!]
Do you have a moment? It's urgent.
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sure r u ok[Hank might have been sort of kind of more or less avoiding the guy lately, but if something's wrong it's not like he's going to just not answer.]
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private
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;text
[Whoops, someone might not be taking 'no' for an answer]
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wtf[Not that Hank's trying to argue about it. He just wants to register his complaint before he gets his shit together and gets going.]
11/26 its time for intermittent texting (1/idk yet)
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try l
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ready to go
ok done, here is the latest one as he's been trying at least once a day
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im sleepin w the fishes
ha ha
how abt u? landed outside jellyfish hell i guess
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cuz network is 50% and I already miss their cr
OLD %AN
( HAT÷ THIS
WATER SU×
DON'T DRO"N
OLD MAN HEY CAN U @^%(×[",(4?????
HEY ANS:#[ 6E
sorry trying to figure out how to do the glitchy texting thing
uh
is ur motherboard spazzin out under ter or
u ok
It's all good + I like your way better
yeah someone told me you type to make spaces in the text and that seems to work ok
Going along with G11's laziness & not using html cuz phone
XD fair
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text;
nk
Are readi g this?
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🌊👴🏻🐶🍮🐟
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slides into ur dms
where are you
[911 I'm having an emergency and I need an adult.]
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uhh near the palace behind a bar abt 2 meet up w sumo at the shelter. u?(no subject)
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text; akvos phase 2
[Sorry Hank, that's as close as you'll get to 'are you okay?']
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mayb i did n already got shit out. the fish here r kinda assholes
how bout u wildlife eat ur face yet
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1/3
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voice; post-akvos; gently double-threads
Hey, Hank. You around? Just wanted to check in and see how you’re holding up... [ Which he thinks better of immediately: ] Probably shitty, like the rest of us.
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Um. What th' fuck? Right, uh-
[A fist moves into view as Hank shoves it into an eye, turning his wrist so he can squint into the watch.]
Simon. Right, fuck, uh. Weird to just hear you like this, like before I knew- before we knew each other.
[Shit, that was smooth. Hank turns his face to give a good try at burying it into the mattress with a groan.]
Fuck. Hey, is what I meant. Hey man.
[He turns his face back just enough that he can breathe a little and aim an eye at the screen, realizing after a couple seconds that there's nothing there to see. Cause Simon's on audio. Right. Right.]
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video --> action
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I've pilfered glasses and what I think might be something like pretzels from the kitchens.
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[Hank's going to be damp when he answers the door, him and his clothes, but that was the right call, he still thinks. The smell's gone anyway, mostly. His eyes are a little red now, probably, but he can do fuckall about it except just ignore it and hope the other guy does, too. Also, pretzels. Food sounds fine. Hank can probably still do the hanging out and drinking together thing, he's still okay at doing that.]
text --> action
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LieutenantMister
Sir
Hank. its Izuku. ah i guess it says that on the message doesnt it?
its been a few days since it all happened and its weird to be back here so i just wanted to see how youre doing. i mean probably not well but if you need anything... i owe you.
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surprise(?) action
She stops before the door to Hank's room, giving a polite knock. Usually she's a little more louder and lively, but even she knows now's not the time for that given recent events. ]
Hey, Hank? [ A pause. ] ...Sumo?
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[And check up on everything.]
This is your one heads up.
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[Not like that will even slow Cayde down, but it's worth a try.]
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un: t.stark
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post-acata psl for shootstyles
If that fucking airhead Astoria screwed up a try at sending him home, just dumped him in a random dimension that isn’t his and, apparently, just fucking left him here, couldn’t it at least have been somewhere that wasn’t weird?
God, that doesn’t matter. It’s not like anyone back home will give a shit if he never gets back. What matters is his fucking dog.]
Sumo.
[He tries to back up without really thinking about it, just wanting to get some distance so he can get a better look at everything, figure out his options. But he steps on something and hears the kind of animal yelp that instantly, instinctively makes him feel guilty and then it’s followed up with a growl - an honest to god growl - from behind him, right at the level of his face, and he turns around slow and he’s face to face with...
He doesn’t even know how to think about it. With a furry? Face to muzzle with a pissed off furry. Right. This is fine. He can deal with this.]
Sorry man, I didn’t see your, uh-
[He glances at what he’d stepped on.]
-your tail, that’s what that is, your tail there.
[Pissed off furry snaps his teeth at Hank and if Hank thinks about this later he’ll realize that was probably just meant as a warning, but in the moment what he does is dart a hand out to grab the guy’s shoulder. Hank meant to push him away but the moment he touches him the guy tenses up, his dark eyes going wide, and gives a sharp bark. Hank yanks his hand away, not sure if that was him or not, and holds his hands in front of him, palms out.]
Hey hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to. I know we’ve both got places we’d rather be so why don’t we just call this an accident and get on with our shit?
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Izuku didn't usually interfere in these sorts of situations. For heroes, it wasn't really appropriate, their goal was to stop villains not conflicts between folks on the streets. But Izuku being Izuku... he just couldn't help himself. He had to make sure that no one was going to get hurt.]
Hey... is everything okay? It seems like maybe you just had a little accident. Nothing to fight over, right? It wouldn't be good if you started just using your Quirks in the middle of the street to fight over something so small.
[He speaks to Hank like a stranger and like someone who is from the weird world he always called home back at the circle.]
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post-acata psl for glitzandglamour
Well, that and he needs to get his car. But avoiding any possibility of Connor for a little bit is the important thing.
He looks around as he walks. It’s the same world here around him that he left - that he didn’t leave, that he dreamed, that he didn’t actually miss, except for the way the monotonous little miseries of it, the stupid tragedies he sees at work, the cold war bullshit that comes at him every time he turns on the news, it’s all at least familiar enough to be boring, normal, mostly explicable. That dimension hopping hero bullshit had a lot going on, but it couldn’t hope to give him normal.
Except sometimes. Except almost, with some people. There are people that he misses. Which is stupid. Even if they were real, even if the stuff Connor told him back there did end up happening once he got back, it’s not like he doesn’t have other problems.
The park he’s walking past now isn’t the one his car is at. He’d never had a reason to go to this one; this one’s for adults, so the other one’d always been a better use of his then-precious free time. This one’s kind of boring anyway, just a bunch of trees and bushes and nature shit, but it’s the people who catch his eye. There’s more of them out than usual, more people carrying their own groceries, walking their own pets. It’s almost enough to make a guy grateful to the whole deviant thing, the glitch or virus or whatever the fuck it is that’s scaring people into abandoning their mechanical maids and doing shit for themselves again.
Almost. Almost grateful. Until he remembers the girls from last night - the androids. The way they held hands when they ran, the room full of machines that looked just like them waiting to either get pulled out of storage or tossed in the trash. The androids who would have been carrying these people’s groceries and walking their dogs, they’re probably all headed for a junkyard now. Those androids probably don’t even know, or care, because they can’t. It probably doesn’t matter.
This park’s got a little stage too, he remembers when he walks by it. It’s the kind of thing that gets used for bands just started out, little shows, usually about the same time as holidays and parades and whatever the fuck kind of reason people have for leaving their houses and standing around in the cold to celebrate stupid shit. Once he gets behind a thinner spot in the little crowd he sees Christmas decorations, little animatronic snowmen and all that cutesy crap, and starts walking faster. With the microphone and speakers all set out like that it looks like someone’s planning on playing soon, and if Christmas music’s about to start blasting around the place he’d better make tracks. It’s not like he needs another reason to puke this morning.]
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He doesn't know what happened. He had only been with the circle for a short while, but he thought he was establishing himself quite well. Others knew him coming before he even rounded the corner, and he knew he left a strong impression with whoever he interacted with. More than all of that, he'd been able to acquaint himself with humans. It wasn't the Surface he imagined, and he couldn't fulfill his dream to its fullest there, but it held for him other aspects of intrigue.
This place, however... It's a city, bustling with people (all human, he thinks; there's no reason for him to question otherwise) going about their lives. It reminds him of the way the Surface looks in the movies he used to watch, with all of its enchanting imperfections and charm. ...Honestly, it's more imperfect than charming: it's not that nice, but Mettaton appreciates that. That's why it needs him, to introduce his brand of spark! That's the opportunity he sees, even if he doesn't understand what caused him to lose contact with the circle and end up here, which he can only assume is the Surface. Finally. It must be. Why else would he be here?
The simple act of walking down a sidewalk has heads turning, and Mettaton basks in the attention, even though he can detect some discomfort and confusion from his onlookers. Landing on people's periphery doesn't always start out with abject admiration, he reminds himself. There's nowhere for him to go but up, whenever the opportunity strikes.
And that opportunity presents itself to him in the form of a stage in front of a small crowd. Mettaton smirks at the empty stage and unremarkable audience, the gears turning in his mind. Any chance he can take to get his image out there is one he has to seize; he feels his nerves alight with anticipation, and it draws him forward like a magnet to his metallic figure.
Immediately he knows what role to assume: without knowledge of the programming and without props, a sound mixer, lighting cues, or anything to form a show out of, he can't make the most out of this stage as an actor, singer, or dancer. What remains is the charismatic host, a malleable role which he can easily perform on the fly. He saunters up to the back of the stage and plucks the microphone from its place in wait. The tech crew can only sputter in protest as he makes his entrance on stage, a strangely built robot in hot pinks and shiny blacks usurping their average, less ostentatious host.
Mettaton spans his arms out with gusto, flashing the audience a confident smile. In a booming voice, Hotland's idol introduces the show before it's quite ready to go live. They'll have to embrace him once they see that he can turn even an intro into something remarkable, he decides.]
WELCOME, BEAUTIES!! TO YOUR LONG-AWAITED PERFORMANCE! LONG-AWAITED, IN THAT IT ONLY HAPPENS ONCE EVERY THREE-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE DAYS. BUT IT'S THE SPIRIT THAT BRINGS YOU LOVELY PEOPLE HERE! ENDURING THE BITTER COLD FOR THIS ANNUAL EVENT... OOH, THERE MUST BE SOMETHING SPECIAL ABOUT OUR WONDERFUL SHOW THIS AFTERNOON! ASIDE FROM THEIR RESTRICTED AVAILABILITY AND SEASONAL RELEVANCE.
[He has the crowd's attention, all right... If not for his absurd energy, then for his odd appearance. Mettaton steals a glance at the performance's group name, which is fortunately visible to him stage right on the face of a bag of equipment. He announces it in stride before animatedly clutching the microphone with two hands.]
BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THEM! YOU'LL ONLY HAVE ALL AFTERNOON TO DEDICATE THE REMNANTS OF YOUR ATTENTION TO THEIR ACT, ESPECIALLY AFTER HAVING THE SHOW EFFECTIVELY STOLEN BY A SHOW-STOPPING ROBOT!! I'M YOUR HOST, METTATON!
[Dramatically he presses his fingers to his chest in a flourish. Even from his position up on stage, he fails to notice Hank from his vantage point. The ill-prepared tech crew only gawks like they're watching an apartment building be swallowed by flames. What else can you do at something which disturbs the mundane on this level? Mettaton remains completely unaware of any turmoil between androids and humans — to him, this is the Surface.]
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post-acata PSL for apocalypsewau
Well, mostly what it means is that things just got a whole lot more goddamn complicated. The FBI - that prick Perkins - might or might not be taking his case, and he should be happy that the prick's probably never heard the word cooperation and that all the android bullshit's maybe going to get taken off his hands. It means that people have started dumping their androids, which he should also be happy about. People doing shit for themselves, for a change, not relying on a bunch of roombas with faces to be their nannies and dogwalkers and maids. It's the kind of thing, a couple months ago, he would been thrilled about.
He catches himself watching the couple crossing the road next to him, watching the android trailing after them and imagining it lying all fucked up in a junkyard somewhere. He looks down at the crosswalk with a disgusted noise. All he's got to do is cross this street and walk for about a minute and then he and this whiskey will be a short drive away from a hot date at his house. It should be Jimmy's, a bar with a no-androids sign on the door full of people who know him should be just what he wants right now. But it isn't.
He's got a lot in his head right now. Too much to think about the traffic. You never think about the traffic - even Hank doesn't, really. Not unless he's in a certain kind of mood. It's just traffic. He's got bigger things to worry about.]
post-acata PSL for hackedhistory
The revolution, at this stage, is delicate, and its players for the most part aren't the kind of people who can lead any kind of operation at all. Without Markus, the revolution will fail. Without North, it won't even last long enough to make it into the news.
Hank doesn't know about any of this. He wouldn't know what to think about it if he did, so ignorance is probably better. Last night on its own is hard enough for him to handle. Between being fucking slapped awake and being shoved off to another crime scene while he was caught in that hellscape between 'hungover' and 'still drunk', he hadn't really had time to process the longest, weirdest dream he's ever had, all the cross-dimensional magic shit where he'd talked to androids like they were fucking people, the fact that one stupid dream had felt like it'd lasted so long Hank had genuinely forgotten what parts of his house looked like. There'd been too much going on right from the moment he'd woken up to think about any of that. And what they'd found at that crime scene-
He remembers talking to Connor about it. He should; he'd been sort of almost temporarily sober, then. Those two girls, he'd said. Those two androids. They just wanted to be together. They really seemed... in love.
That dream... that stupid dream about shit that can't exist can fucking wait. He's having enough trouble with fucking reality.
He sighs, moving toward one side of the hall to make way for someone who really needs to get wherever it is they're going. Not that he himself's that busy - it's quiet so far today, which feels weird after everything that happened yesterday, a day that'd been packed with weird shit even before that dream and the goddamn Eden Club. Hank did come into work this morning, once he accepted that the hangover wasn't going to kill him, but he's kind of regretting it now and maybe heading out of homicide and its big, open room full of people who keep trying to get him to respond to their fucking emails and bugging him to approve their requests for shit isn't the way Hank should deal with all that but it's the way Hank is dealing with it. There are little offices back here near the labs, a few rooms not being used for anything that he can hide out in, and there are fewer people back here, too. Maybe back here he'll be able to just fucking breathe, maybe he'll be able to think. He looks around as he goes, glancing into rooms to see if they're empty, trying to scope out who's around in case someone goes running back to tell on him.]
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So much hinges on them being where they need to be, it's such a pivotal moment in the grand scheme of things that she doesn't bother to wait for the team. She just climbs into the jump ship to try and get a head start. In order to find out where things were at with the investigation, she needs to get into the police mainframe. So to the police station she goes.
This will totally be fine.
She makes her way into one of the server rooms, trying to find somewhere she can plug in when the door opens behind her and she freezes, turning around and raising one hand to her totem, just in case she needs to protect herself.]
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