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]

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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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He leans against the frame of the ship next to Cayde's bed, arms crossing. "Yeah, I've seen it here and there. The way he looks at the pieces I've risked putting on display. I made a call out on the network, don't know if you noticed or anything. Where I opened my shell and asked if people could make parts. I think that's the fastest I've ever gotten a message from someone."
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His knowing smile returns as he can only nod in sympathy. "Unsettling, kinda weird, but I'm pretty sure he means well. ...okay maybe not all the time, sometimes he just wants to genuinely take you apart to see how you work. Or ask if he can have your babies."
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"Yeah, see it's weird. The Tony here is...Anthony? I think? Anthony Stark. My 'dad' is Antonio Stark in my world, a human. It's like some sort of shitty parallel universe ordeal. So yeah, don't remark about him having babies or something because that is just hella fucking weird and gross to me."
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As York goes into the explanation of the existence of a Tony Stark- in his world, Cayde rests his chin in a palm, elbow propped over a knee. "Huh! Still hard to think about there being multiples of him. Sometimes it's hard dealing with just one, know what I mean?" he laughs. "You tell him that? Or figure it's on a 'need to know' kinda deal?"
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"No, he already knows. We can fucking thank Calibrations for that bullshit if I remember right. One of them is enough and yet there's at least two of them in the numerous universes. Fuck that noise. I'm dealing with the shithead Stark here as best I can, trying to work through separating what I... know of my Tony and this world's asshole. Err, Tony. Same thing probably."
Though honestly the Tony here hadn't been too fucking awful. Was interested in how his system worked - or at least the hardware - but was nice enough to keep his goddamn hands to himself. All of that information, however, wouldn't be so willingly admitted out-loud. No one needed to know that York Stark could be soft. Not in a city full of organics.
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For all Cayde says about Tony, it's in fondness. The guy's become a good, if strange friend, but then Cayde has many strange friends. In any case, Tony usually goes about things in the same way when it comes to talking about the Exo, so he'd call it even.
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He thinks about what he can remember from the dreamscapes he had been trapped in. Trapped in that workshop that had been too small, a body that was too small to reflect who he truly was. "The Tony here thinks mine is ugly. But I think he actually wants to help make parts for me. Not experiment on me. And I think there are people that wouldn't take well to someone else in this fucking stupid city being experimented on like that anyways."
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Of course Cayde won't hold York to take the word of a robot guy he's just met, but he's still sincere in what he says.
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"You know, you're not really the first to tell me that, and... my programming is stubborn. Learning, but stubborn. The shit I've dealt with from my Tony, Antonio. Gaslighting, experimenting, all that fun shit. Because androids don't have rights as sentient beings in my world."
Not yet anyways.
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"I know we didn't end up here by our own choice, but I've decided to make the most of it. Don't know if I'll get sent back or if something'll happen here, but I can enjoy people I'd otherwise never have had the chance to meet, hear about places and versions of Earth I'd never know. The Agrii may have asked us to help, but if I'm being honest, first and foremost, I'd be fighting to keep the people stuck in this mess with me safe if things happen."
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"Sensible. I... started making some progress. I had Tony look at the inside of my arm without touching to get an idea of what... I need. I literally have no parts in the city so I'm fucked if something happens." How did you admit to someone that you were scared? York didn't, and wouldn't. Not to someone he just met anyways.
He frowns a little, looking away again. "I was programmed to be an architect. I guess I should start putting that shit to use whenever we get back to the city."
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"Progress is good," the Hunter nods. York doesn't have to say some things out loud for him to get the idea. "You and me both. Hell, I don't even know how I work. Usually I can take care of any damages though, but given those storms and things that cut us off from any special extras we might have, I need to have a backup plan."
He lifts his arm, giving it a wiggle. "This arm got sliced off- not fun, but I figured I'd have Tony have a stab at reattaching it for me instead of my usual methods. Better having a trial run than going in fresh in an emergency, that was my thinking anyway."
Settling back again, Cayde arches a brow at York before nodding. "An architect? That'll come in handy. I mean, you've seen the state the city's in. I think Reeve's about the only other person who's had the experience."
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Eyes grow wide at the remark that Cayde's arm had been sliced off. Sliced off! Holy shit. York sobers up, listening and processing the rest of the conversation. "Honestly, I'm not special. I'm an android that can build. I don't have special powers or anything." A small shrug because that was true. Being made of software he had deviated from wasn't something you'd find in a book probably. Except for ones bringing to light what made someone human.
"Yeah, the city is shit, and that's coming from me, who was living in a fucking abandoned freighter." And he chose to live there, instead of a comfortable home with a family that he had.
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"Hey, we all got specialties. Doesn't have to be a super power, and anyway those are usually only good for certain things a small percentage of the time. I know what I'm good at but usually there aren't too many things that needa be shot around here. I can clear out rubble and scavenge furniture, maybe do a quick repair job but I'm just happy that none of the chairs at the bar fall apart under someone's weight."
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