nexus_crossings | Some Reassembly Required

Some Reassembly Required

There’s an open, grassy area on the edge of the Wilds, some distance from the most popular Nexus parks where people are enjoying their picnics and centaur polo and so forth. It’s a good place to go if you want slightly more peace and quiet - or in Blaze’s case, a good open space in which to make a lot of noise. The robot soldier has a few small crates out on the grass. One of them she’s sitting on; the others are being used as tables which hold a small array of tools and components and blocks of metal. She’s working on modifying a pair of heavy armored boots much like the pair she’s wearing, refitting the soles and reinforcing their structure. Her Ghost hovers beside her, inspecting a blueprint spread out atop one of the boxes. The little bot is spinning his pointy shell back and forth as if concerned, but Blaze pays him no heed.

“So,” she says, speaking up while she works. “People change. Some of us change more than others. Sometimes we don’t notice how it happens. Sometimes,” she yanks out a component and chucks it down beside her, “we don’t get a say. So what part of yourself would you want make sure you held on to? What’s the part you’d want to be remembered?” She pauses, then looks up at the nearest people. “And, hey, anyone got some spare explosives?"

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"No. But give me two days and I can get that for you."

Fairfax stands there looking - if not well, then much better. Although to be fair, any state other than dead would be an improvement over the last time they had met. He shifts uneasily in his now-cleaned uniform, slightly uncomfortable but trying not to show it. Christ, Fairfax. See somebody who saved your life the last time you met, and the first thing you say is that?

"Blowing ssomething up?" he asks, somewhat half-heartedly, as if it was an obligation to hope the answer wasn't people.

"Finally, someone who knows the important stuff." Her voice is warm as the Exo catches sight of him. "Good to see you on your feet, Fairfax. Only thing I'm blowing up today is the ground. Maybe myself, a little."

She jerks the metal plate she's holding toward the least cluttered crate. "i'm testing out this idea I had a while back. Come on, sit down and I'll tell you about it." She has a plan, and it's fun! Plus, she wants to know what he's been up to.

Fairfax makes a little frown of consternation that tugs at the scar pulling at his mouth at hearing that. He stiffly makes his way over to sit on the crate in question, with his shoulders hunched slightly.

"I'd rather you didn't make a vest bomb or a mine," he starts seriously, hands clasped loosely together. "Can't tell you no, but - you'll have to look elsewhere." I'm not doing that anymore, is what he means.

Hm. That catches her attention. She only knows Fairfax a little, and it's not exactly shocking he'd have some lines to draw. But where he chooses to draw them and the expectation that he needs to is worth noting.

Okay, so come to think of it his expectations there were probably her fault for making it sound that way.

"Yeah?" She shoots a look his way over her work. She's layering in thin sheets of spinmetal, silver-blue and rippling where it catches the light. "That's all right then. This is much better. Though I guess you're kinda on the right track." Reassuring, that. But she's not going to leave him wondering too long. Blaze doesn't really do suspense. She's far too eager to share what's on her mind.

"See, a while back a friend and I were chasing down a bunch of pirates through some tunnels of theirs. We cleared out their trip-mines all right, but one of the little dregs slung a grenade at me while I was charging. His timing was lucky and I stepped right on it. Wrecked some good boots and my foot was scrap, but it threw me right into the target so we came out even." Still annoying. Agonizing, at the time. But she had bigger things on her mind.

"Point is, it got me thinking. What if I could do that on purpose? And without blowing my own feet off, I mean."

Oh. That's a mild relief. He certainly wasn't looking forward to it. He breathes out through his nose, a little more relaxed, and Fairfax listens to her explanation quietly. His frown fades only to to come back again, markedly more puzzled.

"What if... you could step on grenades with your feet. To detonate. On purpose." Fairfax repeats her statement slowly. Not quite incredulously, but it's definitely getting there. Thanks for clarifying it's without blowing your feet off, Blaze, otherwise wouldn't it sure be confusing? His eyes flicker behind his helmet's visor to the robot, wondering if a second opinion would call him crazy or not for questioning it. "This is a shit plan."

"Not if it works it ain't." Hmph. Him and Ghost both. "It's not for playing minesweeper. Don't need special boots for that. I want to redirect the explosive force as a propellant. You know, give it an extra kick when I charge something big. You see now?"

Ghost takes his attention from the diagrams to look between the two of them for a second, before he gives a little electronic sigh, the points of his shell drooping slightly. Seems like Fairfax's opinion is pretty well shared by the bot who's going to be putting together all the pieces afterward.

"No," he says, just as slowly. He still doesn't see how this makes any sense. Fairfax doesn't have the most expressive face, unless he's scowling, but the set of his jaw implies a certain disbelief. ""And I thought I was insane," he mutters under his breath.

So she doesn't want to step on grenades with her feet. She wants to strap them to her feet. "What's wrong with a jetpack?" he asks, genuinely confused, clasping his hands tighter. Was she always this tactically suicidal? A manic episode? What little he saw of her combat wasn't this. But then again, she did charge right into the thick of things. And if she could scrap a foot to a mine and keep going, he'd take different considerations too.

"Nothing insane about- oh." She has to stop and give that question some thought, because really, what is wrong with jetpacks?

"Nothing," she concludes. Nothing at all. "Wouldn't mind getting my hands on one. My booster pack kinda works the same but it's kinda slow. Doesn't give the kind of kick I'm thinking of. I've seen alien psions use jets to zip around the battlefield but we don't have anything like- huh. Hey, Ghost. Know where we can find some psions after this?"

"I'll check the bounty list for Mars.

She nods approvingly. "Thanks, Fairfax. That's good thinking."

Thank fucking God. At least she saw reason, and didn't have some - weird ideological aversion to jetpacks or something. Who knows. He nods, jerkily. "Don't mess around with blowing yourself up deliberately, even if it's safe. World's got enough of that." It's a harsh edge to his voice that comes out of concern. And a little relieved, secretly.

A lull in the conversation is enough to remind him why he's here. He glances down, then looks back up again. He's slightly uncomfortable at the thought of bringing up their last meeting, and everything associated with that, but there's no real way around it. "...Don't think I ever got your name?" he mutters.

Even if it's safe? An Exo's face doesn't lend itself to nuanced expression, but she gives him a thoughtful look. She's still working on that boot, but she already has all the material and a pair of reinforced boots could conceivably be even more useful if they didn't contain explosives.

"...I forgot that. Guess we had bigger problems." Honestly, she's not sure he'd have remembered if she had given it, then. Now she does put down her tools so she can give him a salute, sharp and brief. "Blaze-37. The little guy is Ghost, but he's kinda shy." He's also a bit more sensitive to body language, so although the smaller bot spins a bit to say hello, he's hanging back out of the way. And keeping a watch for airborne ammonites, of which he isn't fond.

Fairfax isn't sure if he should salute her back, and looks a little bit caught out by it. But he straightens his back, hand twitching like he wants to but isn't.

"Blaze-37. Is that a designation?" Fairfax appreciates the distance, Ghost's airborne hovering reminds him a little too much of the fly-drones tracking him to be entirely comfortable. Still, he - it? - is surprisingly expressive, despite being just as mechanical. He thinks he likes this personality module much more than Byke's, considering he hasn't cussed him out so far.

"It's my name. Just Blaze is fine though - the number doesn't matter much." She peers at him for a second. The helm makes it harder to judge but nevertheless: "You're looking better. Not that I'm surprised. It's just good. Been busy?" She hopes so. Blaze is a firm believer in activity as a balm for the soul.

Fairfax is looking much better. He's been able to obtain more consistent food that wasn't a dented can of beanos and a smattering of stimulants to keep himself moving and awake. Fuckin' Christ, he's had bagels. His cheeks look less gaunt, and the scars on his face have had time to close over. He's even shaved.

"I've been occupied. Did some thinking. Worked some jobs."

He can squeeze out a little more expressiveness than that. He gives her a small, crooked smile, although it looks more like a grimacing slash of teeth. He's a little out of practice, to say the least. As if realising it, he drops the smile quickly.

"It's... a lot." It's meant to be a dry remark, but it comes out more quieter than he'd intended it to.

"Hey, and you smile now too." He probably won't if you tease him, Blaze. She can't return it, anyway: there's just a hint of it in the shift of her facial plating, the warmth of the look she gives him. At least before she nods, and glances back down at her tools.

"It's everything, sometimes. The simple stuff. Especially those days where you wake up and everything you knew has just... gone insane and turned inside out."

The smile disappears so far back to where it came from, it wraps all the way back into a frown. But the last comment has him snort humorlessly and scratch the side of his neck, looking away.

"Sometimes, literally." That was pretty disgusting to see, even for his tolerance levels. "Seeing less of that now in this place, and that's just fine for me. Don't think it could be any worse." It's not perfectly fine, not really. But it sure as hell is slightly better. He tilts his head back, back to her and Ghost. "Why? Something happen to you?"

"A few times over, that I remember. Half the time it's thanks to this place." Blaze knows Ghost is peeking back at her, she's just choosing to ignore it. She sets a relic-alloy plate into place and pulls off a gauntlet, testing the reddish metal with her fingertips.

"You mean lately, though? That's been more- hn, facing up to some things I didn't want to admit. Stepped in some old politics no-one mentioned to us. Had some-" Tap, tap, tap- the fit is fine. It's in, it'll hold. "Memory issues that weren't what I thought. I've got a lot to figure out. Got reason to celebrate, too. That's why I figured I'd do something fun."

"Old politics. Sometimes it's worse than a grenade."

Fairfax chooses to stare down more at her hands tapping away at the boots than her face - face? Might as well be, it's somehow more expressive than he'd give it credit for - partly because he's not great at maintaining eye contact unless it was necessary, but also because he recognises that she's saying something that sounds important to her and he really can't deal with that.

"Memory issues - what memory issues?"

She mentions something to celebrate too, but Fairfax has always been a bit hyper-fixated on the negative.

[[sorry for the sporadic replies - been a bit busy but it'll be evening out soon!]]

"You said it. Least a grenade's short and simple." She leans over to pick up the small box of metal pieces beside her, pulls out the next couple of plates she wants.

"Ah." It's not a secret. She might be a lot less complacent about it than she once was, but it's mostly common knowledge. "Bots like me- Exos - we reboot every once in a while. Total memory wipe and reset. Our creators are long dead, so they can't tell us about the how and why of it." This is said simply, matter-of-factly, though she admits, "I kind of assumed no more technicians meant no more reboots. Found out it doesn't work that way, though."

[[No problem! I won't be around much for the next week or so myself but I'll reply where I can!]]

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Some Reassembly Required

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