revivalproject | Always Give 100%

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Always Give 100%

WHO: Reeve, Richie and York
WHERE: Hotel lobby
WHAT: Someone decided to fight with a vampire and lost
WHEN: Night of September 3rd/Morning September 4th
WARNINGS: blue blood, injuries

Typing was strangely difficult. Maybe it was because he just had a girl about his age try to rip his face apart. Maybe it was because his skin mesh on his right cheek and on the front of his neck was ripped. There were parts visibly damaged. York was limping.

York was scared.

He set the last message to confirm to Richie that he read it with 'k' (because 'okay' was too much right now), before slumping on the floor and against the lobby's counter to hold him up. He reassess the damage, wincing. Last time he was in bad shape like this, his brother had to fix him. York doesn't know if anyone in town can. Blue blood stains his hardware and skin, down into shirt before he remembers it and reaches up to pinch the tube shut. Even if he rerouted that segment of his system, the blood still flowed.

Fuck.

His head thumps against the counter.

Fuck.

_{_{[ooc: initial texts]}}

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He is no pro in this, but he'll so his best here. "I'm coming as fast as I can. I'm calling in a favor. Expect Mini soonest."

And he shuts off the contact because he needs to get there.

Not that York really has much place to go, he does wait and runs system checks over and over while Richie talks to Reeve. His system isn't going to shut down at least - the girl's fingernails had missed anything vital at least. Richie's bit of tie fabric is enough to nearly stopper up the thin tube, but after about five minutes, a very slow drip has started.

He turns his head to watch Richie flail about the room for something. "Wh̸atev͝e̵r yo̡u͞'r͘e lo͢ok͝i̢ng͠ ͏f̢ǫr, loo͝k̀ in͏ y͜o̷u̶r̛ ̷g͢u̧y's ̛ba͞s̷k͝e̕t ̡of s͏tu̶ff́?" He couldn't recall Eddie's name at the moment, but pointed to where he knew the cleaning supplies were kept.

York starts moving again, grunting as he works the hoodie off with difficulty. "I̷'҉ve ̧ǵot..̨.͝ ̧á bo̴x d̡o͏wn̛ ͜therę.̀ ́It'̸s ̕go̷t ̴t̵hir̷i̸um̶ ́pa̛c͠kets i̧n̵ ther͡e ͞-̛ blue͞ blòo̢d. ̕Wh̕en͠ ͞we're̸ d͟one ͞I̷'̧m̷ g̛on͟n̷a̸ n͜ee̷d҉ ͢oņè.͏"

His guy. Fuck. Richie pushes that whole emotion back into the recesses of his mind to deal with never and just digs out a few more rags. The slow drip wasn't going to be stopped with more cloth but at least it would give it more to seep into. He packs it in and then looks to where York indicated. Sure enough there is box.

"Just one? Dude you look like you need a fucking transfusion of more than one..." Still, he takes one out and then busies himself with helping York remove the hoodie. "Stop moving around, kid. Just. Sit there and think non-dying thoughts."

It's a very simple toolbox, easy to open. There are some bits and pieces in there, but in the bottom cavity are what look like blood bags. Only the blood is blue. The container states that it's 500mL, with a weird looking logo around it.

"Yeah, just one. If she had torn my throat apart like I think she meant to, I probably would've needed all of them. But if she had done it, I wouldn't be able to talk right now. I'd have to use the comm to talk to you and no one wants to do that."

Through his shirt, the LED glows bright red, and there's definitely stains of blue into his shirt and that hoodie. Both are gonna need a wash. "I'm not dying. Not yet. Just a bit maimed. It's probably how my eyes fucking feel after seeing your god-awful shirts, Richie."

"Well, if you're being a little shit then you're probably fine." He tried to laugh but it doesn't come out great. Last time he saw someone bleeding out from a chest wound, it hadn't gone fantastic. He looks to the door, hoping that Mini or Reeve will be here soon.

"Just. Just save your bitchiness, okay? Store it up for when you're not in pieces. You can really let me have it then..."

Good thing this isn't a chest wound. Just a neck wound. From having a girl try to tear him apart. It's fine. This is fine. It's great because he's not offline.

~~Yet~~.

"I̷'̴m̶ ̷n̷o̶t̷ ̷g̶o̷i̵n̸g̶ ̴t̴o̵ ̶t̶u̶r̸n̸ ̸o̵f̷f̴ ̶m̷y̸ ̴b̵i̶t̵c̵h̵i̵n̶e̷s̸s̶ ̶j̴u̴s̵t̶ ̸b̵e̸c̸a̸u̷s̸e̷ ̴I̴'̸m̷ ̶a̷ ̸b̶i̶t̵ ̸m̸a̷n̵g̵l̶e̸d̵,̷ ̵f̶u̴c̶k̷ ̴y̸o̸u̶.̵ ̶A̴l̵s̷o̷ ̵i̸t̸'̵s̷ ̵r̸e̷a̷l̶l̷y̴ ̶h̵a̷r̷d̷ ̶n̷o̴t̵ ̶t̶o̸ ̶t̶h̴i̸n̶k̸ ̴a̶b̸o̴u̶t̸ ̵m̶y̸ ̶f̷u̶c̶k̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷s̴i̵t̵u̴a̴t̶i̵o̵n̸ ̵w̴h̸e̷n̵ ̷a̶l̶l̸ ̶I̵ ̸c̶a̵n̴ ̶s̵e̷e̶ ̸a̸r̶e̶ ̴t̷h̵e̴ ̵e̵r̸r̵o̵r̸ ̶c̷o̴d̸e̵s̸ ̴f̸o̷r̵ ̵t̷h̶e̵ ̸s̶h̷i̸t̷ ̷t̶h̵a̴t̶'̷s̵ ̶b̵r̴o̷k̴e̷n̵.̴" That might sound worse. The cables loosening are that problem, and York has no way to fix it. God, that little bitch had done a number.

"W̴o̷u̴l̸d̶ ̴y̷o̷u̴ ̸s̶t̴o̶p̴ ̶f̴u̵c̶k̴i̸n̶g̶ ̴p̵a̴n̴i̴c̶k̷i̷n̷g̷.̸" Richie was starting to make York very nervous.

"Ah think ya both need ta stop panicking," Mini says as he moves into the area. He's clearly raced here, and he's not fully steady on his feet.

"Gotta help first. Reeve's coming as fast as he can."

OH THANK GOD.

Richie moves to be Mini's little helper however he can. "Think of me as your computer nurse, Dr. Mini. Tell me what I need to do and I will do it. Calmly. Because I'm not panicking and that brat over there is just slandering my good name."

"I̸'̡m no̢t̕— Mini̸!" York sits up, using his arms to do so, as the creature makes his way into the room. While Richie greets their guest, the android folds his hoodie into a pillow to lay his head and neck area on, in the hopes of not getting more thirium on the linens.

"Yo͏ur̨ ̡nam̢e̡ has ̴to be g̢o̧od͜ first for me̶ to s̡lande̶r ͞it,̛" he teases back. Every time he talks, all of the uncovered components move with some difficulty from the damage. He opens the HUD window with all of the errors contained. "Wish͏ I̛ ̷c̸oul̨d́ ̡ju̴st lik͟e, ́co҉nnect͡ tơ ͢y̧ou͞,̸ ̴Mini.̵ Giv͞e yoư all ͟t͜he ͜i͝nform̸àt͝ion͟ o͜n͠ wha̴t̢'͝s̡ ̷w̢ron͟g҉ inst͞e͝a͝d͝ ͝of ve҉rball͠y try̴i͘n҉g͡ tò rel҉ay ̡it to you.͏"

He starts listing some things, the more vital ones at least. The ankle and the jaw section out of their sockets; the voice box that would need to be rewired in or have the wires replaced; the skin mesh sections that would probably need to be sewn back together so the functions would come back online at least.

No, he is not Mini at all, but Mini immediately moves to Richie, holding his hands up because he expects Richie's help getting the synthetic fur and stuffing back from his hands so he could have more minute control.

"Interface would be difficult at this time," Mini says, and while the accent is still mostly there, the cadence at this point is all Reeve. "I wish I had Tony's level of robotics experience, but I will do my best. In this part, at least, I am mostly familiar."

It isn't code, so Reeve, through Mini, woudl be some help.

"I need to know if your vital fluids can freeze, and if so at what temperature? We might be able to use magic to salvage some from your clothing."

It takes a second before Richie figures out what Mini wants but then he hops to action. Once he's done, Richie goes and picks up the bag of "blood" he'd gotten earlier. He rests it next to York and then stands to the side, still ready for whatever he needs to do.

"I have clothes he can borrow if these are ruined or whatever. Putting him in some of my shit would...wow. That would be a dream come true. I know just the shirts I'll pick out. Fashion icon York by the time I am done."

Oh. He hears the cadence of Reeve's voice now. Like he's transmitting through the creature to be here while still on the way. York looks at Richie and there's worry there. It's only noticeable because of how strange it looks on him. There's anger and happiness, but worry is new.

"I ̴think the͟y ͜w̶ere̵ ru̸in͠ed ̷bef́or̀ȩ yơu eve͢n͟ b͟ou͡ght̸ them. ̨A̛n̴d d̷oņ't y̴ou d̷are̶ try ͡to͞ p̧i̡c̸k͘ my̕ fa̕s̡hi͟on. I'll go a̢sk Lark̨ f͘or s̵o͟me̢thi͘ng, ̢h͞ol̶y̛ ͏fuck."

He rolls his bright blue eyes and it helps the worry for a few minutes. "Gen̡e̸r͟ál͞l҉y ͞stand͡ard̵ ҉freezįng͝ tempe͟rat͠ures for̛ bl̶óo͟d.̡ ͏F̸aster ̶if̡ s͡u̸bmȩr̨ged͢ ̴i̢n fr̶eezing wate͡r," he relays to Mini-Reeve while watching him.

"He likes putting clothes on those he claims, allow him his small gestures," Mini-Reeve says as Richie works the metal of his digits free. Still not perfectly nimble, and not even remotely gentle. But it means when his hands are free one finger can curl completely around a vein and pinch it while he uses other fingers to work.

"Richie, please put the clothes and anything else with blood aside. York, how do we repair these veins?"

Richie startles and looks at Mini-Reeve. He wasn't aware that anyone had noticed that. But this isn't the moment to be touched at being known by someone.

He goes to do as he's told, moving everything he can out of the way for the fixing job. He's covered with blood himself and laughs a bit deliriously as he wiggles his hands. "I guess I will be 'aside' too, huh?" Not the moment, he realizes. "Nevermind. I'll shut up."

The pinch helps and the drip is stopped. Which was the most pressing matter at the moment. "S͟o̴m̴e̡t͘h̶i̷n͞g҉ ̶l͜i̡k͜ę ̵t̕a̴p̴e͝.̷ ̴O͠r̶ ͟a͝ ̷s̵ţi͢c͝k̡y͟ ҉b̀án͏d̷a̧g͢e̢ ͝I͢ ͏g͜u̧e͘s̸s͏?̛ ̢I̴t̶'̛d̀ ̛s̡ȩe͡p̴ ̕t͢h̶r͞o҉u͞ģh̵ ̧c̛l̕òt̡h̢ ͘e҉v̷e̕n̡t͞u̢a҉l̵l͜y̴ ̧íf̧ ̨y͟o̶u͜ ́u̶s̀e̢ ͡t͟h̀a̢t̨.̴ ҉U̶n͢l͝ęs̛s̢ ̧w̛e͞ ̨h̷a̛v҉e̸ ̸s̨o̡m͠e̷ ͝ơf̵ ͏t͝h͢e̸ ̡s͞ąm̶e̷ ҉k̵i̶n̸d̴ ́o͝f̧ ̡t̡u̴b́i͜n͠g̶ ͡şo̧m҉e̵w̕h͞e͟r̡e҉ ͝i͜n͟ ͢t͜h̨e͜ ̀c͜i͟t͠y͟?̡ ̸"

That was the only thing he could think of and see amongst all of the errors on his screen. "T̴h͝e̕ ͡b̀l̡ǫo̷d̢ ̀ça̕n̡ ͠w̧a͝s̴h͝ ̸o͞u͠t͟.͡ ͜I̕ ҉t҉h҉įn͢k̕.́ ͜I͡ ̕d̴o͝n̸'̴t̸ ̨t͠h͞i̛n̷k̸ ̨D͝u͢n̨c͜ąn̢ ̧e͝v͠e̸r͡ ͝h̷a̸d̵ ̢b̨l̴o͝o̢d̨ ͟s҉t̶a͟įn̶s̡ ̴o҉n͟ ͟h̨i͜s̶ ̀s̴t̨u̵f҉f͘ ̀a͘f͘t̢e͟r͜ ͞a͜ ͢w̷a͜s͡h́.̶"

York reaches out towards where Richie went. "I̶s͜ ̸i̢t͢ ͟ǵo̵i̡n͟g̀ ̛t̢ǫ ͢f͡ŕe̷a҉k͟ ͡y̧o͝u̡ ͘o͡u̢t͝ ̀i̛f̴ ͝y̢o͡u͜ ̢c͜a̧n̴ ҉p̛u͢s͘h̴ ͜m͠y̵ ͞j̀a͜w͘b̸o̕n̶e͞ ̡şe͟g̨m̧e̷n̴t҉ ̀b̶a͡ćk̨ ͞i̷n̶t̷ó ҉i͞t̵'͝s҉ ͠şp͘o͞t͜?҉"

"You are amusing," Mini-Reeve notes, but he doesn't seem too caught up in it at the moment. He's pretty focused as he is on the task before him.

The small figure is happy to look to Richie, as if to check.

"If you are bothered, we can specify the part we need and send you to to replicate it."

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Always Give 100%

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I DIDN'T REALIZE IT WAS MY TURN OMG SORRY

YOUR SON IS TRYING NOT TO DIE RICHIE OMG

I AM THE WORST

GDI DAD

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This is the thread jenn will never eeeend. York will never be on the meeeend

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