Sunny Day Paths


devi_icon.gif elisabeth_icon.gif seren_icon.gif

Scene Title Sunny Day Paths
Synopsis Life Coach Elisabeth puts Seren and Devi onto an idea…
Date March 5, 2019

Raytech Industries

Outside Raytech.

The Raytech complex has pretty much everything people could need inside it — there are several rooftops that have gardens and solar panels, there's a gym, there's a cafeteria, there is housing. It really is something of a self-contained place, although to be fair you can't do everything inside the building. And there are definitely some things that people really just need to get out and about to go do. Despite the chill in the air today, it's sunny outside and the temperature isn't arctic. It's perfect weather for such things as going for a run, working a car outside, or even just going shopping.

What a nice day…

"Sonofa-" a husky, female voice cracks the idling hum of daily life just outside the self-contained world of Raytech. There’s a small service corridor between the main structure of Raytech and the residential unit from which a kettle-like whistle follows for a taut moment before the rasping voice can be heard once more - this time louder: “FOUR!”, the disembodied, female voice calls out like a golfer on the green.

A second later a strange, eight-pointed, paper-thin gear rockets out the alley and impales itself in a large, rusted, faded-blue USPS mailbox across the street with a resounding THUNK.

A few wavering moments later and a head of raven, wavy locks pokes out from the alley, aviator shades of reflective rainbow resting on a sharp nose that is turned first one way and then the other for signs of witne-… injuries. Truly, totally, just concerned for everyone’s safety - that’s Devi.

Turning out of the residences, Seren is still in the process of putting their keys in pockets when they hear the first set of noises. They pause in spot, head on a swivel with their eyes narrowing. Instead of heading the other way, they drift toward the alley. "One second, Liz…" they warn the other woman they're falling behind.

Baird takes off their shoulder and heads for the entrance of the alley first, its broad wings flapping to keep it steady. It's only just curled in a bank to turn and see what's happening when the flying object soars through its form to land elsewhere with a loud metallic warble.

Seren pauses, blinking. It all happened so fast they didn't even have time to process! Eyes flick from the alleyway to the postbox, putting together what should have happened. It's not a thought they're willing to imagine, not in the slightest, and there's a cost for that.

Colorful, winged Baird simply vanishes.

When Devi pokes her head out of the corridor, Seren shakes their head incredulously. "Ms. Devi, are you okay? Did you see what happened? What a relief you're okay!" They whirl back to Elisabeth, slate eyes widened in excitement. "Liz, did you see that?"

The truth of the matter is that Devi's warning is issued just milliseconds before the whistling of something alerts the audiokinetic of spinning projectiles from the alleyway. When it embeds itself in the mailbox, Elisabeth's already turning toward the source of that bladed weapon and the subtle hum around her is the only warning the other women might get. For all that Seren and Devi have both seen and spent a little time around Elisabeth Harrison, this is the first time she has quite literally come across as lethal. There's a look to her face, something in her expression, that is analytical, cold, and very very deadly.

The look is gone in a split second, as soon as her brain registers that sound of Devi's voice. But the momentary exposure of the soldier in the woman is evident. She's still on something of a hair trigger. "Devi, what the fuck?" Elisabeth demands quietly. Because that was fast! Someone coulda got hurt!

"Baird?" The biker's husky voice is tentative at first. And then, "BAIRD?" Devi blinks and the consuming diameter of her pupils shrinks to a natural state as she steps fully into view, dark eyes skittish in their search for the adorable little figment. Devi braces a hand on Seren's shoulder. "Shit, Seren, I'm sorry. Did I….?" Her pale, nude lips pull off to the side and she makes a noise like angrily shredded paper, dragging a finger across her own throat. The worry is still glimmering sharp and evident in her eyes like a paranoid high: Did she friggin' kill Baird?!

Then Killer Mom is looming and Devi's hand falls away from Seren to come up in line with her own shoulders in a 'I don't fucking know'-way. "Sorry, Double D.," Her face scrunches up in the way a child's does when their only really half-sorry. That was pretty fucking badass. Deadly, but totally badass. "It shoulda just been a simple install, I musta made the trigger too sensitive." She gestures a thumb over her shoulder and down the alley where a matte black Triumph motorcycle sits looking pretty and innocent with an open toolbox nearby.

"Baird's okay, he's okay." Seren gushes, hand patting on top of Devi's reassuringly. Quickly as possible, seeing as the other woman is absolutely panicking. "He's—" When Elisabeth approaches, Seren's look changes too, noting the stress that's present. "Everything's all right, Liz. Just an accident. No one got hurt."

Especially not Baird. Definitely not Baird. Definitely don't mention that Baird is missing.

Even though that initial flicker of coldness is gone from Elisabeth's expression, it seems clear to Seren she still needs those reassurances. "Just a…" A look to the mailbox confirms, "Gear?" They shake their head as they look back to Devi, their voice momentarily filled with wonder. "Was that part actually an accident, or are you actually building a gear-gun off the back of your motorcycle?"

Shaking her head, Elisabeth makes a point of visibly relaxing and rolling her eyes. "Woman… didn't I just hear something about a safety briefing?" she teases. Peering down the alley at the bike, both brows rise as she returns her attention to the women. "Do we need to install hazard signs for flying bladed projectiles on either side of the alley?"

There's a pause and she notes, "Maybe that's not a bad idea anyway… Warren does work here too." Now that the potential threat is not actually a threat, she obviously can afford to be amused.

The skittish quality to the raven-haired woman’s eyes and manners is abated only slightly by Seren’s assurances. Devi’s dark gaze volley’s from Seren to Liz and back again as she recollects her thoughts after the worrying, possible homicide of one dear adorable Baird. “Gear? Oh! Hold that tho-” Her slashed, loose-hanging hoodie billows and her grease covered boots thud as she jogs across the street. There she starts yanking on the ‘gear’, going so far as to even brace one long leg against the post box and yank with the might and weight of her whole body. She can be seen stepping back, considering, and finally pulling out a tiny glasses-kit screwdriver - one twist here, two there.

The biker bitch comes back, tucking the screwdriver into her cleavage - devil only knows what else is in there. “Yup! Just a gear!” she announces now, beaming proudly at Seren. She then gestures towards the waiting, darling, innocent motorcycle down the alley. “Kind of?,” she responds to Seren. “Gear gun sounds so…” Cool, but no. “It’s the baby steps to something more.” She taps Seren’s bicep with the backs of her fingers. “We should get you a bike. We could build it a tiny sidecar for Baird." Then, finally to Killer Madre, “Oh yeah! I heard about that thing too. Maybe I should have gone… “ She did go. She was either a) stoned, or b) her mind has spared her the tedious memory and deleted it from the hard drive.

Seren tilts their head at Devi, a gentle correction about Devi's being there half-formed before they abandon it entirely. Maybe it's better not to question it. The suggestion that they should get their own motorcycle is met with a sheepish grin, and they start to wave a hand to brush off the idea when the suggestion is made for a Baird sidecar. They look back to Devi's bike curiously, and from the side of it blooms out a stylized bulb that gradually takes shape as a tiny sidecar, distinct in design with gold embellishment and iridescent shape that shines in the light. It shifts slowly as the fresh idea continues to gain detail.

Seren starts to grin at that, look lingering before attention returns to the Raytech engineer. "Well, we'll look forward to the finished product! And being on the right end of it." is tacked on with a chuckle.

Elisabeth crosses her arms and simply laughs quietly. She's intrigued by the image that begins to take shape and studies the resulting motorcycle. "Okay…. can I just say that if I see that going down the road? I might just have to wonder if Devi's opened her own custom bike shop. That would be utterly primal as advertising," she admits, looking sincerely impressed.

Then she pauses and looks at Devi. "You know… that's not a bad thought. With roads and gas prices being what they are… I bet you could make a killing in that market."

Devi watches the adjustment of visual reality into some wonderful molding of Seren’s imagination. Though it may be hard to decipher from her silhouette, visage turned towards the alley as it is, instinct kicks in her and pupils dilate anew. Of course, there is no systematic blueprint to an imaginary figment, but this state of being leaves Devi distracted and much like a dark, disheveled statue beside the other parties for a moment.

“Hm?” The biker looks back first to Seren, the words Baird’s keeper had offered prompting something of a smile. “I’ll get straight to work, Little Bird.” She winks. Then shadowy eyes, accentuated by tattoos and gear smear alike, take in Liz. There’s a snorted-puff of a half laugh and a slyer manner of smile for Super Mom. “I had one. Back on Staten.” She tips her head to the side, black tip fingernails massaging one wing of the raven tattooed on her neck. “Anarchy Customs. It’s where Toots and I faced off against Warren's death spiders and where the Ravens ran out of mostly.” There’s something serene and wistful in her husky tones before she blinks and her eyes regain focus on Liz. “You think something like that could thrive again? Maybe just a different sort of customizin’… “

Seren's eyes narrow back on the motorcycle at some point, wondering at it. The two images, machine and sidecar, they don't line up just right. One is real and one is decidedly not, its existence just slightly off. Their head tilts, grey eyes taking on a ring of silver as they focus on that refinement, trying to make the unreal seem more real…

A thought broken by Devi's laugh, and the nearly-realistic image fades out like sand sent scattering by a squall. They blink, turning to look back at the conversation, taking note of the tattoo Devi touches. The raven's wing beats once, no sensation accompanying it, then Seren looks away back to Liz. Eyes still limned with silvery color, they voice bit incredulously, "I thought the thing about Warren and spiders was just a running gag…"

Thankfully, no imagined spider creatures filter up from the concrete. They don't try to even wonder what those things must have looked like. A far more pressing detail awaits attention, Seren turning fully to Devi. "Did I hear right that you fought him?"

"Noooope," Liz drawls to Seren with a wicked twinkle. "And never volunteer to be his dress dummy for armor either… as I recall, he doesn't believe in underpants." She could be kidding. But the evil amusement in her expression seems to indicate not.

"And hell, Dev…. I honestly do think you could make a serious go of a business like that. I mean… it might not be as artistically satisfying, what with most people maybe not being all that daring," Elisabeth replies thoughtfully. "But I know in was— where I was before? Motorcycles and especially things that got real good mileage were in serious high demand. You really couldn't use the heavier vehicles without drawing the wrong kind attention. Given that the more people there are in the Zone here, the more we'll have to spread out from our workplaces and shit? Yeah… I do think you could make serious bank."

Fought Warren? “Fuck no!” Devi replies with an all out laugh, the sound trailing away to a ghostly little tickle on her alto, husky tones. “We fought the Death Spider. Toots was the one that finished it. But, when I accidentally activated it, I accidentally triggered a little welcome beacon to Looney Tune - er, Warren.” She gives a smal, swirling gesture of one grease-covered hand. “Him and his chicky-poo, Shock Tart showed up at Anarchy Customs and offered me a gig, actually. That dude’s hand…” Devi holds out her hand and flexes each fingers individually. “All clockwork. It’s…”

A pale lip is creased under a hard, biting pressure of her top teeth. Clearly this image has stuck with Devi a decade later. “It’s intense. The man. Is. Intense.” She shakes her head. “I was working in the Warehouse when shit hit the proverbial fan. But, while I got some understanding of Tune-y Boy’s death traps, I sure-as-hell never got around to understanding the man himself beyond a warning label for overusing the ability.” She reaches up and taps her temple. Her dark pupils pulsate in a quick dilation, as if tempted to pull the trigger on that ability that lights up the world and its many schemes from within.

A thoughtful expression is turned to hold Liz a moment then. “I oughta call you Muse Mama instead,” she grins and wags a finger at Elisabeth. “You’re an enimga, you are.” She glances now to Seren and then opens up her hands. “Whadda ya think? Wanna learn some shit about some bikes? Maybe between that projector screen in your head and the schematics in mine we can come up with some kick ass shit while tinkering on some simple get-around beater-bikes.” She opens a hand Liz’s way. “If the kid doesn’t keep you too busy, you can help out too. Get you a hog of your own to ride.” She grins devilishly, the double entendre clearly intended.

Nicknames, nicknames all around. Seren follows the story with wonder, their own hand flexing. All clockwork. Silvery eyes drift down, looking at their arm. They've not met Warren Ray in person and can only imagine, so they do. A puff of steam bursts through their jacket at the elbow as they fold their arms before them.

A clockwork limb sounded primal, and they have trouble hiding their appreciation for that.

Devi's offer, combined with Liz's insistence about the use of motorcycles, has Seren's interest as well. They grin sheepishly at the suggestion they could incorporate the use of their ability, that alone seeming to work as an ample enough hook. Turning slightly to Liz, their enthusiasm for the idea is outwardly muted, but definitely still there, visible in the slight glow of their eyes. "Sounds like that could make for some fun weekend projects… Be something to get into." they suggest warmly.

Elisabeth winks at Devi. "Getting people on a path is something I'm decent at," she observes easily. Of course, she's good at a number of things, but she smiles at Seren. "I definitely think that this world is in a place of 'if you can dream it, you can do it,' so… pull out the stops. Experiment. Worst that can happen is that it doesn't work out, right?"

Holy shit, you're an optimist… we'll fix you of that. The memory makes Liz laugh suddenly. Not today, love. Not today.

"I have to admit that I'm absolute crap at mechanical stuff. You want background music, that I can handle. But don't hand me tools — I break shit practically as soon as they're in my hands."

Devi pauses as Liz’s encouraging speech. Slowly, so very slowly, a grin turns up at the corners. She leans aside and bump’s her shoulder against Seren’s. “She’s thinks that’s the worst that can happen…”

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