And look at me, I'm tattered

[buildingitsir]

WHO: York & Open
WHERE: York's Calibration Room
WHAT: Calibrations event
WHEN: May
WARNINGS: CW/TW: York's room has the potential to bring up the following situations: gaslighting/manipulation, abuse, gun violence, death, and assault. The items are labeled with warnings.

Waiting Room Post
Mingle Post

Calibrations Room

The room is a workshop that has seen better days. Once a sterile, almost hospital like room, with a black, pleather covered chair for android repairs. Now, the room is ripped apart. Cables and wires have been ripped apart or unplugged from exposed panels, electricity sparking from live ends. The chair is broken in numerous pieces and thrown about the room, covered in oil, grease, and blue blood. There's broken parts, both mechanical and biocomponents, littered about. On the walls in that same blue blood is "I AM ALIVE" painted by hand in a large, bold, Helvetica font. The floor is wet. Shell casings glint in the light from above.


On the floor are items: a black NYC hoodie that smells earthy; a fireman's hatchet caked in blue and red blood [cw: gun violence, death]; a news tablet with a line about robotic parenting [cw: gaslighting, abuse]; and a pamphlet of Bryant Park’s 191st anniversary ripped midway [cw: assault, physical violence against human and android].

Around the items are some wires that haven't been destroyed, and all of them lead into the back of an older looking and taller York, who is curled up on the floor surrounded by the objects. There’s thirium covering his hands. The wires weave around the items, but don't touch them. He is shirtless, with his knees drawn up to his chin to hide himself. He wears black sweatpants as his only clothing.

The whole room feels isolated, full of fear, and strangely enough: it feels too small.

Upon seeing another enter his mind, York is immediately aggressive. "What are you doing in here?! Ģ̡͝E̸̵T̴̢͠ ̶̴̸O̴̧UT̴́͟!̸̨!̴͘" York gets to his feet - his LED is swirling red, throwing light against the open section of his chest next to it where his thirium pump beats. The android moves quick, as though to try getting to the intruder, but the wires seem to reel in, snap taut, and pull him back towards the wall he’s written on. It’s then apparent that York is too big for the room, with his hair almost brushing the ceiling. There's no hiding the fear in his expression as he struggles for freedom the cables aren’t giving. Realizing the vulnerable state, York relaxes and turns away from his intruder, with those tight wires loosening around him. It shows the wires going into the open panels of his back now, hooking somewhere deep within the machinery that moves and gives him life. York wraps his arms around his chest, ducking his head down. His open interior section pulses blue like a heartbeat.

"I̸͠ţ's̶̡ ņ̀̕o̸̶t̸̡ s͘͝u͡p̷p҉ós͏̕͘ed͘ ͟͞t̨̨o ̨͜h̵̸̛u̶͞͞r͜t́́," he whispers angrily, though the room is small enough that the other would be able to hear it anyways. "D̕͜͡ò̷n̨̡'ţ̕ ̡h͜u͢ŗ͜t̢͠͞ ̴͝me̢͟"

_{[I'll be using a different set of icons for the older version of York in replies, but that face doesn't apply outside of the calibration room. ~Xi]}

Comments

[kree_soldieress]

When she arrives, she's almost hunched over. This room is far too short for Lauri-Ell, and it's uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable for how he starts shouting, starts whispering angrily. This was intense.

"I did not choose to come here," she tells him, trying to stay still.

[buildingitsir]

He didn't know this person. York sifts through his files of people he's met trying to place her. Nothing comes up. "But yet you're in here, in the only space I have LEFT!" The android doesn't fully understand why this upsets him. The cables around him move, threatening to pull him back again.

"…just… I can't… I̸ ̶d̸o̶n̴'̷t̶—" He wanted his hoodie. It would be too small but he needs it. But it's too far from him, too close to her. York seems to settle, turning enough to look at his "guest" over his shoulder.

"W͏͜h͘͞o͞ ͏҉a͏̢r̢̧e͘ ̷y̸o͏u̡?̢" A pause and he turns fully now to face her. "How ̀di̸d͝ you̡ get͜ ͏in̕ ̡h̶e͠r͏e?̀ ̢M͘y…̷my͟ ͟p̵r͠o̵gr̸am̨m͠ing͝ i̢s̕ lo̴cked.̶"

[kree_soldieress]

"I did not choose to come here," she repeats, hands up in what she hopes is a placating gesture.

"I am Lauri-Ell. Who are you?"

[buildingitsir]

Lauri-Ell. York knows that name. He scowls. Blinks. A translucent window appears before him, scrolling text as he reads it. "Lauri-Ell. Clearly." Repeating back one of her texts to him.

Some of the aggression seems to drop from him. Instead, York just looks like a scared person instead of one out for blood. "I'm York. York Stark. We messaged each other a lot the day the network fucked up."

York looks to the writing he had done on the wall. A reminder, in case somehow he forgot. "Both of us have blue blood."

Teal eyes go back to her. "Sorry it's small in here."

[kree_soldieress]

Ah yes, that day. Lauri-Ell, still bent over in pain, shifts. The only thing she can do is work to sit down. It's the safest way to deal with the pain in her back.

"Yes it does. This worries me, seeing yours around here. Have you sought to cause yourself harm? Do you wish to speak of it?"

She's dealing with the small all on her own thanks.

[buildingitsir]

York knows that if the room doesn't fit him properly, then she must be hurting. There's nothing to offer to her though, no larger foyer for her to hang out in. "I just use it as a reminder. When my own memories," and he motions to the items between them, "try to remind me that there a lot of people that think I'm not."

York slides against the cabling of his mind, pulling his knees back up to his chin. "I…I can't hurt this shell. This model. It's the only one I have. My actual shell is lost. I can't get another. I'm… trapped."

The android scrubs his hand over his face, trying to keep it together. A pump that worked to sound like a heart, unregulated emotions, a cooling system to vent through his mouth. All that and no artificial tear ducts to cry. York didn't know if he should be thankful or angry about it.

[kree_soldieress]

"Do you need a hug?"

Because hugs, Lauri-Ell has found, have a great healing power. Clearly he is in need of one.

[scienceofthearcane]

Outside of this room, Viktor is a beanpole of a man. Now his height worked against him and had him kneeling. When York got aggressive, Viktor flinched back in alarm, a sound like a heavy stone being dropped when he placed his hand on the wall.

Then, he was distracted by the cables and wires that plugged into York's chest. Enough that it took a solid minute for Viktor to realize that York had spoken in that miserably broken voice.

"I don't want to hurt you?"

[buildingitsir]

Electricity crackled at the hand connecting to the wall, but nothing more. York pulls at the wires that tie him to the room, the representation of programming that keeps him confined into this smaller body. When he takes in the other man, it takes a long moment before the memory kicks in.

"You. You're the new guy. From the fountain." A paneled window appeared, showing York's point of view in meeting Viktor. How he had moved to put space between them, sat on the edge of the fountain. "You fucking creeped me out, motherfucker--"

He shifted like he was going to move again, the wires snapping tight to hold him. "If you're not here to hurt me, why the hell are you in here?" This was his only space left that was safe!

[scienceofthearcane]

"It's not as if I wanted to be here. I had no choice in the matter."

Viktor said it defensively and was distantly surprised by the appearance of the window. He did not deny anything that was shown there, though. He kept his hands upright as if to calm an easily spooked horse. The hand that was usually covered in a glove glowed faintly with a strange light inside the hand as if the flesh were a cage.

"Being interested in you does not necessarily mean I want to hurt you, though."

[buildingitsir]

"I've been at the mercy of men that are interested in me enough. Why do you think I look like this in here, but different in the waking world?" He spat. York sat down hard, the items between them. The panel that showed the fountain interaction disappeared.

"This is that calibrations bullshit the others were talking about. In the room where we're all fucking trapped." York's teal eyes were set on Viktor's ungloved and glowing hand. It looked strange.

"I know you said you aren't here to hurt me, but holy fuck did you creep me the hell out at the fountain."

[scienceofthearcane]

He probably had been a bit creepy and Viktor thought York was overreacting to the conversation that they had, but he didn't say that. Viktor was still of the opinion that being interested in something did not necessarily mean wanting to hurt something. After that came the question of what could actually cause discomfort for York? And was it a simulation or was it a real reaction to a stimulus?

Pushing boundaries is what got you into trouble already , his conscience reminded him harshly. Viktor kept his hands upright still, one of Viktor's hands like some sort of cross between metal and stone that had a glow trapped inside.

"If I am trapped in here I don't know the way to get out of your room."

[buildingitsir]

York probably was overreacting but the things he had experienced before Temba... Maybe Viktor wouldn't blame him if he knew. But the android wasn't going to just give that information up so easily. He scrubbed a hand over his face before gesturing to the items between them.

"Others have been in here, and a way out opened after they touched a memory piece." 'Others' meaning one person, but that was the only data he had to go by so far. "Or maybe it's just like, a time limit or something. It's not like the voice that lured us down here gave us any specifications."

[in_extremis]

The burning plastic smell was familiar, the cabling, the grease, a cocktail that should have been reassuring, like Tony knew this environment and knew how to work within it. Instead, it felt oppressive, making Tony start to raise a hand to his mouth, then give an ineffective wave to dispel the scent, eyes darting and taking in a crime scene. This was the kind of place nobody wanted to be, least of all the person that it belonged to. They saw each other at the same time, and Tony was slower to react, still searching, eyes narrowed intently, only to widen with shock as he rocked half a step back with his arm raised across his chest defensively at the figure's outburst.

His arm lowered slowly as it became clear that the man wasn't going very far, and Tony studied him with the same sharp, blue intent that he had the room, watching the way his skin shifted with his movement, and the wires, then trying to trace their source. Was this whole display a defence mechanism for someone? The whispering made it a pretty miserably ineffective one.

"Bit much," Tony observed. Consciously relaxed now, one hand casually in his pocket and sauntering closer, eyes still darting, he continued, "Honestly, if you want my advice, you lead with just these." He swept down, collecting one of the casings, bringing it up to where it could lift it to the light and consider it pinched in his blue-smeared fingers, trying to source it. "Let it build, keep them on edge--" He cut off with a sharp intake of breath that he held, eyes on the cowering man again for him to do the same. Waiting, until he did. "Let the explosion feel like relief."

[buildingitsir]

If the room felt like fear before, it felt like borderline terror now with this new guest. One guest that looked so much like a man in one of these memories. The guest he had been both avoiding and trying to get an actual glimpse of in the city. Always from a distance though, it felt like too much of a risk if York got too close.

Tony's blue eyes were met with York's own, even as the former's traced the wires that were plunged somewhere into the back of his system. System anchors, in case he ever found a way to leave.

York couldn't find it himself to make biting lines like he had with others. Exposed wires sparked around both of them as the android pressed against the walls. Unlike other visitors, York was afraid of Tony. Visibly afraid, especially as the other sauntered forward like he owned the place.

But York's Tony did. And York's brain was having trouble processing the differences between his creator and this man.

"What the fuck are you doing here? You've done enough to me! You don't need to be here, ge͏͘t̡͡͞ ó͢͠ú͏t d̡̢́͞ą̸̴̨͢d̢̡̨͠͠." Teal eyes dart from the shell casings down to the tablet. To the hoodie. He didn't want this Tony to see anything but if he tried to close any distance between them too quickly, the anchoring program would reel him back in.

you're supposed to be asleep ╰（‵□′）╯

[in_extremis]

That was strange. Not a defence system then, not if it was going to appear so readily threatened--unless it was trying to convince Tony into the same. He tipped his knuckles against his chest, eyebrows raised inquisitively, me?, then swung around to glance over his shoulder to spot what imposing figure this man might have been calling 'dad'. As he turned back with his head tilted, eyes narrowed watchfully, it was in time to track that furtive gaze, and he only responded to this baffling abuse with a flick of the casing he still carried to snatch back out of the air.

"Daddy issues, that's rough, wouldn't know anything about that," he muttered with a grimace, turning to hunt down what the guy had sought out. He didn't make any secret of it, pointing down toward the tablet as he approached with another questioning expression, as though the man's anxious glance had been an open invitation that Tony was graciously pursuing. It was a pretty slick design for the kind of places most of the people in Temba seemed to come from, fitting more comfortably in his hand like something from back home, but 'robotic parenting' wasn't exactly something he'd expect to read on his newsfeed. His grimace remained, lip raising more yet as his focus slid back to the man. This was going to be a theme, then.

¯\_( ͡❛ ͜ʖ ͡❛)_/¯ || CW/TW: Gaslighting and Abuse

[buildingitsir]

York knew the mistake he made the instant his eyes moved to the tablet and back. Tony went for the tablet with the small child smiling on it, with the main headlines about android parenting and family life (sub headlines being about world war three and the current president of York's world's rating). As soon as Tony touched it, in easier range of it than the android, the workshop went dark with only York's LED like a light.

The lights came back on, showing the workshop bigger now, clean and sterile. York in the older form was being shown into the room, dressed in casual business like the blonde, taller android that was leading him into the room. The only other person currently in there was a man that had some resemblance to Tony, who turned to look at his pair of androids. "Fucking finally York. Hop up on the table, time to get to work."

York looked to the empty table in the workshop, with numerous computer monitors hovering over the head of it. Two cables lay in wait, identical to the ones that held him in the dreamscape. The android didn't move. "I...would rather not, Antonio."

Antonio sighed with exasperation, looking at the dark haired android with a 'really?' sort of look. A silent look shifted to the blonde android, who took it as some sort of command and looked to his younger brother. "York, what could you possibly be upset about this time with the process?"

"It's not my body, Gervais!" York retorted, gesturing to the now visible teenage body that lay on an adjacent table with monitors also hovering about. It was the same form that was a current inhabitant of Temba, only dressed now in simple plain sleepclothes. The LED on his chest wasn't lit up. Yet. Gervais made a noise of protest.

"York, we talked about this already. It's a simple test! You will be temporarily placed into that shell to test it, then returned to this form in a few hours."

"Listen to your brother, York. Stop being insecure about the ordeal and just trust us."

"Antonio--"

"Protocol override." Tony's voice cut through whatever York had to say. "Label of 'Antonio Stark' and 'Antonio' to be replaced as 'Dad'." York's LED went gold, then back to teal. "Sorry, Dad, I'm not insecure, I just do not wish to be put into that shell. Just program a teenager, do not subject me--"

"York, you're the problem here, alright? It's just a quick test and you're fighting me over what? A temporary housing situation? Just get the fuck on the table because the sooner we fucking do this, the sooner you'll stop being upset over such a little thing. Are you emulating your mother's emotions? Ah, right, protocol override: label of 'Poppy Pahns' and 'Poppy' to be replaced as 'Mom'."

"Dad, no! I won't do it."

Antonio snapped his fingers. "Gervais." The blonde, being taller, easily grappled York up, who tried to get free with no avail. "No! NO, Gervais, put me down!"

"York can you even hear yourself?" The older body thumped against the table, and Antonio moved in quickly, twisting York's head to the side and pressing at his neck panels. "After everything that Mr. Stark has done for you and you're going to act like this? Stop being shameful, York. It's embarrassing behavior from an android of Stark caliber."

"No! No, stop!" But Gervais was holding his arms as Antonio hooked the cables into his now open neck. The monitors started the transfer, showing the progress from over York's head to the smaller body on the other table.

Antonio held the cables, hand on York's neck where his cooling vent was. "Don't make me really hurt you, York. You know I can. I can take you apart piece by piece and put you back as someone that knows not to question authority." The android under his hand seemed to choke as said hand pressed down hard for a moment. Threatening. "I fucking made you, you belong to me and will do whatever the fuck I tell you to do, York."

The transfer was about almost finished, some of the other shell's systems starting to come online. The LED flickered on, turning to gold. York could only watch in horror from two different shells starting back to each other. Then his original body's eyes slid shut as the younger shell sat up with the cables in his neck.

"Activate protocol 'Anchor'."

Antonio grinned at the results, clapping hands to the small shoulders. York looked at Antonio, a sort of misery in his eyes despite the lack of emotions he seemed to have. There was a full grin on his face as he looked over the teenager android before him. "There's my boy. My son."

The workshop went blinding white, then faded back into York's mess of a headspace. York was laying on the floor again, optical equipment unfocused for a long moment. "He used my brother's directives in keeping me and our other brother in line to get what he wanted. I didn't want to be put in that body but every time I tried to fight it, they spun it back on me. I was the problem. I'm always the problem. And when Ant--" He choked on the word this time after the memory drug that piece of programming up, "Dad refused to replace my original body after it was lost into the ocean, I knew I couldn't stay too much longer."

He looked up at Tony. "You're... not him but the resemblance is really strong." And there's still fear there, fear that it really is his Tony, come to do other programming changes to take the York out of being York.

[in_extremis]

That face, the kid, the one who had been curious about the library, Tony did know. He knew it well enough to expect the name when it was said, but it still managed to drill into him and leave a hollow ache in his chest every time they reiterated it, Stark. As the flare faded, Tony was backed up against the wall where he had come in, pale and with his now empty hand pressed against his heart leaving a blue smear across his shirt that felt a lot more real and gruesome now than when he had come in to this playhouse.

It was bad enough that the panic must have already been evident, because this had to have been a hamfisted ploy and York was still talking like maybe Tony did quite get hammered hard enough, that he didn't get the message yet and had at any point needed to be told what he was capable of. Tony narrowed his eyes, frustration for being put in this position so easily fighting with that fear, only encouraged by the audacity of York to mention any resemblance when it was so clear now what kind of game he must have been playing with Beck in that face he didn't wear in the waking world.

Still pressed against the wall, Tony did his best to find his cool, schooling his features back into his intense stare and his betraying hands down into his pockets. "You have one of these for each of us, then?" he confronted. What York, and presumably the Atroma, meant to get out of this provocation was much less clear. Tony already knew he shouldn't have kids, what kind of person he would be, who he was.

[buildingitsir]

At first York didn't respond to Tony. Like he hadn't heard. It just took time to get through the static of that memory as it reared its ugly head in his mind where the human couldn't see. York could still remember the pressure percentage against his neck, the notification of the cables hooking into his neurological programming and immediately beginning the transfer. How his oldest brother kept him on the table so he couldn't leave.

He frowns with dark eyebrows furrowed over his bright eyes. "What?" The question, finally processed, didn't make sense. "This is my head, essentially. I am a dream manifestation of the programming made by my creator. But that's why this room is so small. I'm trapped in a body smaller than my original programming. I shouldn't even be able to dream, only sleep mode or stasis. That room is fucking with my head. That fucking puzzle, too." He sits up, and it looks like he's struggling with the weight of his data as he props himself against the wall. York knows it's a similar feeling to his waking world counterpart.

"I know...you didn't make me. In this form or the other. You're not him." He looks to Tony, gaze looking tired. York was tired. "...I'm just scared." Sparks crackled from some of the live ends around the room, but not near Tony, not near York. "I'm scared you're going to hurt me, or someone else in this shithole of a city will."

[doubled_speed]

Well, this was cozy, wasn't it? Tommy did not approve.

"Hey, dude, why the fuck is this space so fucking small?"

Is he annoyed? Yes, very much. Being forced to crouch over in a situation like this, when he's already small, is frustrating.

"Your room is horrid."

[buildingitsir]

York slumped against the wall, blue eyes glaring over at newest intruder. Who the fuck was this? He sneered at the remark.

"Because," he finally answered in a tight voice. "The body I’m in isn’t my original body. I’m fucking trapped in a sixteen year old styled shell instead of the mid-twenties custom shell I was in."

He gestured to the cords wrapped around him, anchoring him to the room. "At least you’re only a god damn visitor in this nightmare. Who the fuck are you?"

[doubled_speed]

That's... A hell of a lot of baggage. Shit man, it's weird.

"Tommy. You know, the cool person in town. Who the fuck are you?"

[buildingitsir]

"Never heard of you. Which means you can't be cool if I've never heard of you," he fires back. York shifts to face Tommy better and there's sparks from some of the open ends around the room.

"I'm York." His eyes narrow, but not out of suspicion this time. Didn't he know this guy from somewhere? Like memories he wasn't able to access. He catches a glimpse of one image in his HUD.

"...Ice cream parlor," York looks from the brief image to Tommy. A strange card, then a that ice cream shop. "Also cool people don't have to announce that they're cool. It's usually obvious."

[doubled_speed]

Oh. Shit man.

"You're the small dude? How the hell are you so big?"

Of course he has to announce he's cool. Lame people like you won't get it.

[buildingitsir]

Tommy gets an eye roll as the first response. Maybe they just don't have androids in Tommy's world. He wondered what a world like that would be, and no, this city they were all trapped in didn't count.

"I'm guessing they don't have androids wherever the fuck you're from. Or at least any that look anything like me." He gestured to himself - mostly to the light on his chest and the pulsing pump next to it. "This is me as my programming. An mid-twenties architect until my creator forced my transfer into a smaller shell as an experiment." That last word was practically spat as he explained. "So the room reflects how I'm fucking trapped in here, restrained by a protocol put in place by my creator in case I found a different shell to transfer into."

At least Tommy was only a visitor. He would get to leave while York would continue to be trapped in here.