York Stark (
buildingitsir) wrote in
revivalproject2022-07-19 05:58 pm
Bishop to E14
WHO: The Bishop Crew [Flamingle 🦩!]
WHERE: The Bishop ship IN SPACE!
WHAT: WHO’S DRIVING THIS THING? Oh shit that’s me–
WHEN: Event Start
WARNINGS: “...–This is your captain speaking. First I'd like to welcome everyone on Stark Technologies Flight 25Y. We are currently experiencing difficulties without a pilot so I’m substituting in for him–…”
I. Baggage Check
II. Landing
III. Baggage Claim
WHERE: The Bishop ship IN SPACE!
WHAT: WHO’S DRIVING THIS THING? Oh shit that’s me–
WHEN: Event Start
WARNINGS: “...–This is your captain speaking. First I'd like to welcome everyone on Stark Technologies Flight 25Y. We are currently experiencing difficulties without a pilot so I’m substituting in for him–…”
I. Baggage Check
York’s been out here to the hangar before, but he actually hadn’t been on the actual ship. Once inside he made his claim on a top bunk and put his hoodie up there for now. He didn’t plan on really sleeping in it that much, but it was his and that’s what mattered. He starts exploring the other areas, finding rooms that don’t really pertain to him save the room with the lone treadmill.
He lingers in the cockpit though, looking over the intricate display of buttons, levers, and of course, a steering wheel. From the engineering data point some of it makes sense, but the android knows that if something happens to the physical structure of the ship, he could fix it. Maybe. Probably. It was almost like having the ship’s manual in his head. Just the manual was missing pages. And had a bite taken out of an important corner or two.
“So we’re here. What the fuck do we do now? Wait for whoever the fuck the pilot is?” York thinks he’s talking out loud to himself, leaning against the pilot’s chair to look over the various sections waiting.
II. Landing
Maybe he should’ve waited for whoever was the fucking pilot. York’s assigned himself as pilot since he’s the only one that’s smart enough to know how the ship runs at least. Piloting… just didn’t entirely fall in that category. But somehow, through jerky shifts and a ride that’s about as smooth as metal scrapyard, he’s made it to wherever they were being told to go.
“What the absolute fuck,” he mutters sourly in the pilot’s seat. “People do this shit as a career? Fuck that. Let me just build shit instead.”
He gets up from the chair to head back towards where the boxes have appeared, one labeled for each of them. Opening his, York pulls out an outfit designated for him. “Great. We’re playing dress up while going to a foreign planet. Fan-fucking-tastic.”
III. Baggage Claim
[Make like a flamingo and go flamingle with your shipmates! Feel free to make your own top levels to interact with the rest of the crew if you'd like! <3]

Baggage Check
He smiled wide at him.
"Sorry, pal. Not a pilot here either. But it sure is a swell lookin' set up, right?"
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"Brooklyn." Direct, not even bothering to talk about this alien ship. York had noticed it with Peter, but hadn't said anything about it. "You sound like you're from Brooklyn. There's someone else here in the city, sounds like they might be from Queens. Seems like the Agrii want to bring in the teens from NYC."
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Great. This guy might not know him as Captain America's less-muscular prologue but he'd thought he was a teenager. Perfect.
"My name is Steve Rogers."
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He looks over the switches and buttons presented on the control panel. "York Stark," he responds with idly, the glow from his chest falling over some of the controls before him. "From Manhattan. Didn't spend too long in NYC, but enough to pick up on the differences between the areas at least."
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"Stark? Like Howard and Tony?"
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Until Steve asks the question. His hand hesitates before moving on. "No. Don't know the first name, and the only Tony I know of is Antonio Stark. I've met the one here, but we're not related if that's what you're fucking getting at.
Check baby check baby one two three four
He glances over when York enters, flashing the android a grin.
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"Why the fuck are you wearing so much armor? Are you the actual captain for this junk?" Though at least the ship was in a better state than the city.
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"You call this a lot? You haven't seen how loaded Titans are, hah! Even Echo's got more armor than I do and that seems to be his choice fashion," Cayde says, swinging himself upright to sit semi-crosslegged on the bed.
"I'm not the pilot if that's your question. That'd be Shiro, if memory serves right- but who knows with the Agrii playing musical ships and stuff every now and then."
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"A titan in my world is something large and formidable, or in Greek mythology, they were former gods." The android leans against the wall across from this stranger, crossing his arms over the glowing circle of light only partially muted by the black shirt.
"Yeah well fuck the Agrii. They really seem like nothing but trouble since I got here." And so do humans, but he keeps that to himself for now. The name Shiro seems familiar at least, but he's not certain as to why.
"I'd guess you're not from earth, but you're probably not from my earth."
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"Oh, so we're going way back to the origin of the word, eh? Guess it makes sense in the application- our Titans are human-sized but built to be walls that won't let any enemy through. Sometimes got the shoulder-blades to prove it. Honestly, I don't know why they needa be that huge."
He chuckles then. "Yeah, guess that's fair. I'd say it's about a fifty-fifty chance that there's trouble whenever the Agrii come calling." He sounds so easygoing about it though.
"You're probably right. Seems the case most of the time but all things considered, probably better your Earth isn't my Earth. Name's Cayde, by the way."
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Fucking jerk aliens.
"First Calibrations, now this bullshit. Glad to know someone's okay with just doing what they're told here," and yes that last bit is filled with sarcasm. "Should've just fucking left me in Detroit if they wanted someone obedient like a Cyberlife shell." A scoff.
"I don't want anyone's earth to be mine. Fuck all this shit, I really just want to go home to finish out the revolution and go live in peace. You don't really get that here."
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"Peace is always hard to come by. If you got pulled from the middle of a revolution I hardly blame you for being anxious to get back home though. Reckon I'd be feeling the same if I got dropped into a vacation planet in the middle of the Red War and not its aftermath."
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"Peace is a futile thing in the sense of long terms. There is never peace, only a wait. A stepping stone from one conflict to the next. Especially when humans are involved. And they are very involved in the revolution. Only androids can really embrace the peace that humans talk about, because we don't have that sense of competition and conflict like they do."
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It's a grim outlook of peace but the Exo can't say York is wrong. Even their 'peace' was a generalized thing. Fighting still takes place every day throughout the Sol System, but so long as the Last City remained unthreatened, it seemed the best humanity could hope for.
"Well, guess that's why things have worked out mostly positive for us. Instead of fighting each other, we have a bunch of aliens all bent on wiping humanity out, back home. Stuff like that tends to be a good unifier for people."
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"Maybe things will be like that when I get back and through the ordeal. Doubt it though. Send those aliens to wipe out humanity for my place too, okay? Or at least half of them. That should help in the long run." There would be no way that Markus would agree with that at all though. York could see the benefits of taking a peaceful stand, it just felt like it wasn't getting enough results.
"I'm York, by the way."
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"Very little make sense around here. Try to push things into a semblance of sense too much and you'll just end up giving yourself a headache," he advises.
He snorts, glancing past his feet at York then. "Hey, I'm trying to keep things from doing that!" he laughs. "The Cabal already made a mess of our city when they invaded a few years back. Lost a lotta good stuff in that war. Lotta good people too."
Sighing, he gives a shrug as though casting off the sudden dip in mood. York gets a nod. He'd almost forgotten the kid hadn't yet given his name until now, even though he'd given his own earlier on. "First time in space?" he asks, deciding to shift subjects.
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"So no, never been to space. Used to go look at it, at parks. What I could see of it, anyways. Stopped doing that too." Too dangerous. "Don't think I'll be effected by it, even though I'm not built for that kind of travel."
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"This...I guess some'll hardly think of it as a vacation but at the very least if you look at it fresh, and try to find some enjoyment of the experience, then you won't wear yourself out. Space, new planets... I'm not saying forget about home, but don't miss out by always looking inward. If it helps, think of it this way- the guys who're watching us probably want to see us being miserable or at each other's throats, so I revel in doing exactly the opposite. More fun for me too, that way."
He gestures back towards the hall. "Not much of a view in here, but out in the cockpit once we head out you'll have a wide open view of stars that can't compare to anything seen planetside. Definitely not something to miss out on."
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He scowls, laying his head down on an arm for a moment. "It's really difficult to think of this place as a vacation when you don't know who's deprogrammed, who's dead, and who's alive back home." Hell, he didn't even have a home now. His family he had run away from didn't count anymore.
York watches the other gesture to the hall. "Once we get out into space I'll probably go have a look. Or maybe whenever our pilot shows up." A pause and he looks the other up and down. "So...what's with the weird fucking armor?"
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There aren't really much reassurances to be given under that sort of a situation, but to his credit he doesn't try to jolly things up. He can be serious, and he's no stranger to loss. It is not a thing he deals with very well either.
Space is a good shift of subject though. Cayde nods his approval before he pauses and blinks at the question, his brow arching. "What, you don't like leather? Or is it the asymmetrical shoulder guards? Think what you like, but between Warlocks and Titans, Hunters hit that nice sweet spot with armor and style. Not too much, not too little, nothing slowing us down but we can still take some hits."
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"Never fucking said I didn't like leather. And that wasn't what I was referring to. Half of the other shit you said doesn't make any sense to me. I meant like the helmet and other metal armor, dumbass."
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"Pff! I've been talking to you for how long and you think this is a helmet?" the Exo laughs. "Well, I'm not about to strip down for you to get the idea. Bet Tony'd love that though." He shakes his head.
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"...You're sort of like me then. I'm an android from 2038 earth. You seriously look like you're wearing armor from some futuristic sci-fi media." The skin of York's face melts away, leaving a white pristine casing in its wake as his teal eyes blinked out from the sockets. "I keep away from Tony too for the most part. Though he might be the only one that could make spare parts for me if anything happened."
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"You're a pretty slick looking android. I'm not sure why Bray went with the all metal look for his desi- whoa! Warn a guy first, huh?" The Exo blinks at what's left beneath with the disappearance of York's skin. "Whoa. Now that is an interesting trick. Does it come back?"
He snorts a little, giving a nod. "Eh, can't blame you for keeping your distance. He gets a little too um...excited, about robo-people. But I can't deny he does good work if you do find yourself in need of repairs."
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