On the Write Track (closed for oldboyjensrps)

politescoutrussell:

@oldboyjensrps @oldboyjensenhinglemeier

This café was a nice place. He had come across it before while driving, but hadn’t gone inside. He had chosen to rectify that today.

He had parked his motorbike and gone inside. He ordered a coffee. It was one of the better-quality coffees he had had. It was then that he decided that he could get on with writing a letter.

He took a notebook and a pen out of his messenger bag, and wrote Freyde’s address at the top. He then started to add whatever he felt needed saying.

It took a few tries to open the cafe door since she kept pulling when it clearly said push. This would be why Messenger badly needed a coffee and some solid food.

Once inside, she stumbled to the counter, placed her order slumped into a chair to take off her riding goggles and finally catch her breath. It was colder up in this neck of the woods, especially riding in the open air, so she rubbed her hands together, glancing around absentmindedly. Her eyes landed on Russell and she lit up a bit before her social anxiety kicked in and she tried to pretend she didn’t exist. He might feel obligated to talk to her, and that would be disrupting his writing and just a dick move-

“Order for Megan?”

That was her today. Messenger stood up quickly, not realizing her leg was between the long strap of her messenger back and the back of the chair. The moment she tried to move forward, her leg caught against the strap, pulling the chair with it, startling Messenger and sending her stumbling, arms flailing to regain balance. She made the mistake of instinctively grabbing on to the the closest solid thing, which happened to be the arm of a man on his way out with a tray of coffees- of course pulling him off-balance and stumbling. Hot bean juice, caring nothing for lids, sloshed up and over both of them. The man yelled and yanked his arm violently from Messenger’s grasp, sending her crashing to the floor to be spattered with the last few splashes of coffee. This all happened in about 5 seconds.

bluteamblueprints:

oldboyjensrps:

“Who wouldn’t want to be part gun?” She examined the furby “Chedna. Or ednarlie. Compromise? I think robots can have as much or as little gender as they want, but that’s a question it would have to answer for itself.”

She sat and watched him working to get the skin off, curious what it would look like underneath.

“Chadan has a nice ring to it” he said. Dell carefully cut the fur away, trying to get it all on on. It looked disturbing without the fur on it, creepy even. Dell didn’t seem too bothered by it as he reached out and flipped it over, trying to get a better look at the wiring and mechanics.

He slowly began to take it apart, carefully inspecting it as he did, slowly losing himself into the work. When he was focused on something, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

Messenger didn’t mind lack of conversation. She watched him and thought about 20 different things at once, several songs, the eventual overthrow of humanity by sentient machines, perfectly round ducks, the fact that whale babies don’t actually suckle to consume their milk like other mammals because if they did they would drown, her next writing assignment for the mag, where to fit a turret in all that plastic and wiring. It would be interesting to see how Dell went about tackling it. And she was, above all, watching to see how he did.

bluteamblueprints:

oldboyjensrps:

“it knows” she whispered, then thought, “Uhhh… I think somewhere like 30 years or so? They were a couple places at once but one location was 90s so it could have been that? I for one welcome our sentient robot overlords.”

She looked at the furby which had giggled, “That was a joke, Charlie.”

He made a face “I just hope we’re not on the wrong end of it” he joked along with her. Dell held the Furby above his head and began to take the bottom of the battery pack out. He didn’t want to deal with the sounds it made when it was upside down.

“Did you just give it a name” he asked, arching a brow.

“As long as we are kind and loving perhaps we have nothing to fear,” she said, hiding her actual nervousness with a dramatic, Jane Austen speak sorta delivery, “And yes. I’ll die on this hill but he looks like a Charlie. Am I dooming us all? Probably. Sue me.”

bluteamblueprints:

oldboyjensrps:

She gasped and held the furby to herself protectively “Will that hurt it? It’s from the future maybe it has nerve endings we gotta put it under first.”

It countinued to babble in furbish.

Dell straightened his back and tilted his head “that’s a fair point” he said slowly “but I don’t think living things have to be turned on in order to work.” He reached out and took the furby in his hands as it babbled on and put it against his ear to listen, trying to hear if there was anything mechanical or a heart beat or something.

“It’s the future Dell! I don’t know maybe this is the form of sentient life!”

It sounded like the buzz of electrical things. No heartbeat.

“And we gotta turn on every morning and after naps otherwise our brains die. So. There? I dunno I just think we should take the batteries out first I’d feel bad if it was moving while you skinned it. And probably get some sort of karmic punishment.”

She grinned to hide her actual fear of that happening. Honestly her intrusive thoughts were having a hayday but she pushed them down for later. Probably for when she would be trying to get to sleep. They were doing the critter a service everything was fine.

🤚

necklace-of-teeth:

oldboyjensrps:

necklace-of-teeth:

He stood over the figure, giving them a light nudge with his shoe. Satisfied that they were dead, he turned. And was surprised to see the messenger standing not far away, staring at him.

Bodies weren’t, admittedly, her favorite thing to see or stumble across. It was even more an unwanted situation to find a body someone else had either already found or put there. Assuming things wasn’t great, but like… hired killer. She noticed Sniper notice her and smiled nervously.

“Ah, hey. Am I uh, interrupting something? I can… go. Unless you uh, need help with uh” she gestures vaguely at the figure “I have a trowel?”

He chuckled with amusement as she spoke. “Nah, you ain’t interrupting something. Jobs already done.” He laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I was told I wouldn’t have to do the cleanup on this one.”

She chuckled nervously in reply. Ah yes the hilarity of a dead body. Maybe someday she would get over herself and be able to look at one without feeling either numb or sick, but today was not that day. She smiled bigger and attempted to not look as green as she felt.

“Well! That’s good! I have a file from P and some letters from Australia for you.” She dug around in her bag, glad it meant breaking eye contact for a moment, “One job done and another on the way it’s like middle ages peasants and babies ahaha…”

She pulled the file and letter packet out and walked over to his vicinity, kinda handing it out in his general direction and shading her eyes with her free hand to avoid looking at Corpsey McCorpseface.

redheav:

oldboyjensrps:

At the approaching footsteps, Messenger had been ready to turn and sigh in relief at her target’s approach. Instead, the blood drained from her face as she attempted to not look like she was mentally writing her own eulogy.

Of course Scout wasn’t there. Why would mister happy feet ever be somewhere convenient for her life and livelihood? Ridiculous concept, to expect any situation that didn’t have her in pretty serious mortal peril with a very irritated guy she’d taken pictures of sleeping next to his gun. Not uh, that he knew that part. Just… obviously he had a hunch she’d delivered them. Which she had.

Haha… oh boy.

“Oh ah, hi, uh sir hello. It, uh, boy nice weather huh? You look well.”

She instinctively checks the weight of the envelope pack in her hands, and for a moment curiosity overpowers fear. Like a pigeon trying to get a better look and listen, Messenger cocks her head to the side and turns it over in her hands.

“Huh I don’t actually know… I mean, it could be? Thick packet this time… family must have lots to say..” she realizes her murmured blunder and immediately falls back into terrified awkward friendliness, “uh! Hypothetically! The letters could totally be from anyone, and I know nothing!”

The Russian folded his arms over his chest as he listened to the woman ramble. His expression remained stoic. He watches her movement, briefly relishing his ability to make people squirm.

It was karma, in his opinion. For what she had done to him and his team. Finding out that his house was broken into–with no idea how he’d been found. It was a fear that hit much too close to home. Whether she was responsible or not, he was determined that it would not happen again.

A grunt escaped him as he nodded once at her response. For a moment longer he was still, until deciding that it was enough. She had learnt her lesson–by the looks of it.

“Alright.” He rumbled.

With one giant hand, Heavy holds out his palm to take the packet, still keeping his distance and eyeing the woman suspiciously.

“I will give to him. He will return soon.” The giant cricked his neck, almost as if getting ready for a fight. “If this is something bad? You will regret it.”

“Now hold on a minute. I don’t hand off to go-betweens, sir.”

She had been pretty visibly shaking by the time he first replied with that single word, fighting it by doing a little nervous jig. Her sigh of relief was probably audible as well. Then, with her few surviving survival instincts, Messenger had flinched and hopped back a step as his hand extended.

Then her brain had processed what he was requesting, and her eyes had narrowed. The neck crack and the ultimatum had an… interesting effect. Instead of cowing, Messenger’s stance went assertive, and she shoved the packet back into her bag as she spoke.

“The mail is for Scout, sir. I only deliver to recipient. Death threats or no.”

She crossed her arms and set her jaw to stare up at him. Her pulse still raced, and her eyes were probably fluctuating between fear and determination, but she locked eyes with Heavy all the same.If it was Heavy. If the man in front of her was a cloaked Spy, he better be ready to rip the bag from her cold, dead hands.

Of course, her literal inability to cut an intimidating figure was part of why she had the job in the first place. How effective the purple and orange, baby faced, 5′4″, Messenger’s attempt to assert herself as a professional against, well, Heavy, remained to be seen.

&*& (mess)

bluteamblueprints:

X

“How do I work this thing?” Dell furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the odd contraption sitting in front of him. Normally, he could work it out, but this… this was something different.

“I know, it’s weird right? A friend of mine accidentally picked it up from the future when they had a bad episode. It’s called a “furby,” and they gave it to me after an exorcism didn’t do anything to make it less “cursed.” Apparently it’s a robot and runs on these.”

She showed him some AA batteries.

“They told me that it wakes up if you put these in the slot here on the bottom then press this button while the thing is still upside down until it starts moving. I was too scared to do it on my own.”

Starter For @donnez-moi-vos-vivres

donnez-moi-vos-vivres:

oldboyjensrps:

The gun’s appearance earned a sharp inhale from Messenger: half relief that it wasnt a throwing knife in her throat and half ‘oh boy a gun.’ She her eyes locked with René’s and one hand stayed in the air as the other clumsily unbuttoned her blouse. There were a couple layers of awkward to the situation, but at this point the only intrusive thoughts sticking around concerned cursing her faltering fine motor skills.

“Yep, yep. Direct directive from the Administrator . I mean I think it’s a directive. Probably not just a hi how are you right haha ah… but um, I don’t know stuff before you. She was just really dead specific that it’s for your eyes only,” a slight pause, “Well, I mean your eyes and brain. And the rest of you…y’know, person wise.” The raised hand flops in a hopeless gesture, “Um, I am… going to lower my other hand now to get this open so I don’t take years. Please don’t shoot, it’s just the tv.”

After the warning, she slowly lowered her hand, still maintaining eye contact, and got the last few buttons undone. The little TV was a slightly different model than the ones carried by the usual grunts. Just the slightest bit updated with an extra couple switches on the side.

René couldn’t stop the short snort of laughter at the words ‘direct directive’. He just couldn’t help it. For some reason, his mind decided that these specific words put together in this specific context was wildly hilarious, enough to make his poker face crack just slightly. He composed himself almost immediately, however, and leaned forward to examine the TV. It was slightly different, he realized, having more switches, presumably for better communication.

He could only assume it was because the mission would be more complicated, probably secretive, most likely dangerous and rather risky. He could only sigh quietly as he considered the likelihood of him getting out of this one alive. Probably no more than twenty percent, which was alright, he’s beat worse odds before. It was really just the pain of having to plan out every move carefully.

“Alright… I suppose we can start, then.” He reached forward and flipped the ‘on’ switch. The TV crackled for a few moments before the Administrator’s stern face appeared amidst the static.

She had managed to make him laugh somehow. Messenger couldn’t help but grin awkwardly with the tiniest bit of pride at making it this far. Not dead and he broke character for a second? Wow, high five to you, you not dead mailman.

As soon as René leaned to check the TV, Messenger stiffened. It wasn’t a fear response, however. She simply stood up straight, arms at her sides, and stared ahead, barely blinking. She was unfazed by his flipping the switch, and simply listened at attention to her employer as the static cleared.

“Oh good, I see the TV at least got to you in one piece. Messenger, status?” She drawled, looking almost bored.

“Alive, ma’am.”

“Congratulations. If you’d gotten yourself killed this would be all the more irritating. Well, I suppose you’re wondering what the job is.” She took a drag on her cigarette, letting the smoke cast a bit of an eerie filter over the video, “I have an associate in Chicago that you are going to pay a visit. He goes by the name Benny Goodwick and runs a bar and game-room called Prissy Lips-”

Messenger made an ‘ugh’ face at the name.

“which is where you will find him. We have a trade to make, and I am sending you with the intelligence to keep it secure, and to make sure Goodwick keeps his end of the deal. This is an escort mission. Eliminate or neutralize any threats to the intelligence, both on the way out and the way back. Do you have any questions?”

🔫-she’s a lil reckless

politescoutrussell:

oldboyjensrps

pushspacetocontinue:

Russell’s eyes are wide at the sight. He didn’t even know this lady as far he was concerned. Yet she had just run in front of him and gotten herself shot by the Spy that he was trying to deal with.

“Holy shit!” he can only shout when his mouth finally decides to work. The Spy also looks shocked, which he uses as his chance. He fears a bullet into the RED’s head and his body keels over backwards before vanishing entirely to respawn.

He then steps over to the woman, his heart pounding.

“Shit, shit, shit… are you okay? I got medical stuff… like proper stuff the Medics use… you really didn’t have to do that…”

While he should probably thank her for saving him an unwanted trip to respawn if the Spy had managed to shoot him, his focus is on healing her first.

“Okay nevermind that sounds great,” she sighed, giving in to the pain and taking two of the pills with a messy gulp of water. She wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist, “thank you you sweet and funky soul. He’s your dad? Well that makes me feel better, I can pretend it was the urgency of family connection that made me so dumb. Not to say that I regret it! I’d do the same thing over.”

“I don’t blame the poor guy, he didn’t see me coming. But! He hit me in just the right spot so it’s all fine,” She pointed her right shoulder which was practically re-sealed at the entry wound with the pills- there being no exit wound for some reason, “See? No worries buddy-o. That piece of me’s reinforced like nobobby’s business” she pointed at the bloody bullet on the ground, “exhibit a. And really, it’s my job to get hurt. Sorta-aha! Here’s the it.”

Messenger had finally found the letter. She handed it to Russell with a big cheery grin.

“It’s, ehe, it’s fine,” Russell replied, rubbing at the back of his neck, “As I said, it’s the least I can do for you like, doing that, ehehe…”

He then nodded.

“Yeah, he owns a theatre, so I can only assume that’s who you mean by a theatre dude,” he said with a small smile. But then sympathy crept across his face, “Nah, it wasn’t dumb. You were just focussed on delivering.”

He fidgeted.

“He was just salty because RED lost and we Scouts seem easy targets to pick on,” he added, “Honestly, some of them need to just accept their loss and try to do better next time.”

His eyes widened and he let out a low impressed whistle. He then glanced down at the bullet.

“Holy shit, that’s actually rather clever,” he said, “As long as you’re all right. That’s the main thing. But try to look after yourself if you can. It’s no one’s job to just ‘get hurt’.”

He then carefully took the letter. Yep, that was his father’s handwriting. He couldn’t help but smile on seeing it.

“Thank you for bringing this to me.”

She grinned at his awkwardness in empathy, her hand instinctively going to the back of her neck too, and nodded, “I’m sticking to my guns on the dumbness of me, but I really appreciate you saying that. And y’know, I’m not a fan of unprofessionalism like that- just because somebody can re-spawn doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt them to die.And like, if you’re not friends it’s just a dick move. Mmmayhaps he’ll think twice after hitting the wrong target.”

She snorted at the clever comment, “you could say that. I’ll pass it along to my doc who’s gonna have fun chewing me out today,” she grinned again, kinda flushed a bit at his kindness and genuine concern, “Oh uh, you’re welcome. And I’ll try to uh, not get shot. More.” She stood, wincing a bit as she rolled her shoulder, “Good to meet you Russell! Thanks again, and uh keep eyes on spies”

She saluted and finger gunned as she began jogging backwards before turning and trotting off on her way.

🔫-she’s a lil reckless

pushspacetocontinue:

Russell’s eyes are wide at the sight. He didn’t even know this lady as far he was concerned. Yet she had just run in front of him and gotten herself shot by the Spy that he was trying to deal with.

“Holy shit!” he can only shout when his mouth finally decides to work. The Spy also looks shocked, which he uses as his chance. He fears a bullet into the RED’s head and his body keels over backwards before vanishing entirely to respawn.

He then steps over to the woman, his heart pounding.

“Shit, shit, shit… are you okay? I got medical stuff… like proper stuff the Medics use… you really didn’t have to do that…”

While he should probably thank her for saving him an unwanted trip to respawn if the Spy had managed to shoot him, his focus is on healing her first.

She knew about re-spawn. She knew, at the back of her mind as she did it anyway, that jumping in front of a gun was pointless and idiotic considering that all she had to do was wait and she’d have time to get mail to the scout later. Knowing this did jack shit to stop the Messenger from shoving in to defend and taking a very unhappy close range slug to the shoulder. She’d dropped to her knees with the shock, only vaguely aware of the spy being dominated in front of her.

Ow.

She’d gotten lucky though, and once the initial freeze passed, Messenger dug in the wound with thumb and forefinger to pull the cooled and crumpled bullet out .

“I’m okay, I’m okay” she reassured through gritted teeth because ow, “You… you’re Russell, right? Got a (ow ow) letter for you from some theater dude.” she started digging around in her bag with her free hand. The other was keeping hold on her shoulder to maybe trap the blood in.