[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.
[ 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.
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. ]
[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?
[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.]
[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.]
![[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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text; early november
[Lieutenant!!!!!!]
Do you have a moment? It's urgent.
text
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private
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;text
[Whoops, someone might not be taking 'no' for an answer]
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11/26 its time for intermittent texting (1/idk yet)
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ok done, here is the latest one as he's been trying at least once a day
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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
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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slides into ur dms
where are you
[911 I'm having an emergency and I need an adult.]
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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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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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video --> action
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text
I've pilfered glasses and what I think might be something like pretzels from the kitchens.
text
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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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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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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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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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