revivalproject | ♤ Time Flies By In the City of Light

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♤ Time Flies By In the City of Light

WHO: Cayde-6 and the more or less responsible
WHERE: Lower levels of Coruscant, space jail, the works ~~oh wait that's actually a place~~
WHAT: Being a tourist, getting insulted, and trying to make a profit
WHEN: Earlier part of event-trip
WARNINGS: N/A Will update as needs be. Also SORRY THIS IS SO LONG but I gave options...
NOTES: Feel free to pose in preferred style, will match! Also if you want to play out a combination of things or lead in from one to another, etc., totally open to anything.

"I have a good feeling about this place."

It hadn't been all that long ago that Cayde had said those fateful words, had it? And really, compared to the previous planets and places they'd had to visit, this giant city-world looked most promising.

By now he's put together their strange Agrii-directive, but then figuring out who all of their group came from this neck of space wasn't too difficult. A strange number indeed. Did that mean that a potential next stop would be Earth? They have a good number from there, but it'd be a toss-up as to which. And as much as he'd love to show people around home, he hopes his Sol System isn't on the list. That's however neither here nor now, and there's plenty of things to draw his attention from lingering on such thoughts.

"...we are going to get so lost," he says decisively as he takes in the stream of traffic flying between platforms and citywalks, and yet somehow he sounds chipper all the same. Stepping over to the nearby railing, he looks down and down some more, eyeing the levels of lights and transports that actually make their way below. Beaming, he looks up at Sundance. "So lost."

---
A. Sightseeing
♠️ With so much shiny city to explore, can anyone blame the Exo for heading off without much warning? He figures if anyone needs him, he's got his tablet. There isn't too much that interests him in the upper echelons of the city, save for plenty of high places to get a nice view, and he'd already been yelled at for being on someone's roof. The strange if not concerned looks that follow him wherever he goes thereafter are for the most part ignored, if only because he's figured it's not unlike the usual response he gets from newbies back in Temba.

♠️ It doesn't take him long to worm his way to the lower levels. It stands to reason that anything he might find interesting would be in the undercity, the gambling dens, the black market, those willing to bend a few rules. Also food that wasn't overpriced. Unfortunately it hasn't hit him just how differently people of the mechanical variety are viewed and treated around here. Then again, there aren't any models that compare to him, much less wear clothing and openly carry a weapon around.

♠️ There are those who watch him pass with caution, some with outright disdain, but then there are others who watch with all too much interest, tailing at a distance...

---

B. Fud
♠️ "Whaddya mean 'where's my owner?'" Cayde snorts, looking incredulously at the man who's apparently barred him entrance. He's by a diner of sorts, scowling at a confused employee who's barring his way in. "Look, I just flew in and wanted to sample some of this city-planet's fine cuisine. Now, I do realize I could take my business elsewhere, but just because food's expensive doesn't mean it tastes any better, and this here looks like it's been here a while, so clearly there must be something good going on here."

By the looks of the man at the door, he's still trying to work out what the metal fellow is saying to him, or maybe wondering if the metal fellow has a few crossed wires as he casts a look around for some help. Droids usually aren't so insistent about wanting to...eat??

♠️ Alternatively there are plenty of bars and clubs with fetching neon signs that make the Exo a tad envious. "I need one of those," he insists. "But I guess for now I'll settle on trying the drinks." The bartender within shoots him a disdainful look as some sort of alarm light triggers by the door. "We don't serve droids," he says, his tone clearly suggesting that said droid should know this. Then he almost falls over when Cayde looks over his shoulder, because clearly he's not the one being addressed!

---

C. I Fought the Law
For some reason or another, the Guardian finds himself in a cell. Maybe he's got company, maybe he's its sole occupant- maybe his company's familiar! But in any case, he seems to be taking it rather well, lounging on the thin panel that makes up a pallet, arms folded behind his head. Who knows why he's in here. A fight? Unruly behavior? Rogue droid, wha-?

♠️ He doesn't particularly expect any help- it's a big city! But then word does travel fast, especially talk about some weird droid with clothes on. It's fine if he doesn't get a hand, he's taking this in as part of the city experience. He'll leave when he gets bored, or if his pals don't share the same interest in experience as him.

---

D. Beating Up Baddies For ~~Fun and~~ Profit
Oh, you know how it goes, you run into some bad company, or just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and witness things certain parties wish you hadn't. That sort of thing happens often down in the lower levels, and between the turf wars and the general violent tendencies of those who have come to consider Coruscant's underbelly as their domain, it would be amazing if you didn't run into some trouble of some kind.

♠️ Cayde? He can't help it if people leave their caches in such obvious places. They're just asking to be picked up by some enterprising Exo. The previous owners beg to differ, and they're not having a fancy droid make off with their hard-gained artillery.

♠️ There are also people down here fighting to protect those who eke out a living in unfortunately violent territories. With gangs like the Black Sun making trouble, groups like the Justicars are open to recruiting anyone willing to risk their necks for some extra credits and equipment if they'll run an errand or two, or help put down some trouble-making gang cells. Care to join the Exo on a mini-strike?

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"I am all for that," she said with relish, "especially since I don't want to get too far gone on anything in an unfamiliar place. But in a bar, where I know I'm safe? Hell yes."

With that, she tried a bite of one of the Bantha sliders, and made a deep noise of satisfaction. It wasn't quite like beef, a little closer to ground pork, but still juicy and flavorful, and the cheese had a taste to it unlike anything she could compare it to. "Mmm, damn. And if we could get away with raising whatever a bantha is, might not be a bad idea either. This is good."

Two approvals had to count for something. Cayde laughed, nodding as he flipped a page on his notebook to jot down notes. "What'd she call this again? Core...something" He paused and then nodded to himself. "Corellian Ale- right. Thanks Sundance. Now is that with a 'C' or a 'K'..."

The Exo looked over at the platter of sliders before reaching over to pick one up. "Wonder if they even have any locally or if they just import anything." He took a bite. "Ooh! This is good."

The pause and the remark weren't directed at her, and Clarice's interest was piqued. But she didn't say anything yet. If it came up again, she might mention it - at the moment it was just a singular oddity worth noting.

"Place like this that's all city, I'd be surprised if they had a farm ... but they might have traders or ranchers that come to sell livestock direct to butchers. Could try to find one of them." She shrugged. "If anyone'd be inclined to, I mean. I ..." She hesitated, then decided trusting him with a piece of her past was a move of good faith.

"I know how the slaughter business works, but I'd ... really, really rather avoid it. Few really bad mem'ries, there."

For a robot, his handwriting was nice and neat- and in cursive no less. He seemed to give no thought as to how strange it might have looked, talking to himself as he finished off his slider and washed it down with more ale.

"Yeah, don't seem like the best atmosphere for a farm unless they've got some kind of specially designed structure for it. But importing does seem the way to go for a city." Brows lifting at Clarice's revelation, the Exo nodded thoughtfully.

"Well no point in exposing you to that then, right? Anyway, we got a lot of time here and if there isn't a market for food export then I'd be surprised. Lotta space travel here- no one's going to be constantly hauling animals aboard their ship just to have fresh meat for a trip."

Two things that piqued her curiosity in less than as many minutes. Coupled with Cayde's compassion, Clarice was confirming something she had already known: he was not just some garden-variety robot ... if there even was such a thing. She decided to broach the subject in a roundabout way, so as not to be rude. He'd afforded her so much kindness and courtesy in such a short time that she was determined to reciprocate as best as she could.

"You seem to know a lot about space travel and such," she remarked. "Helluva lot more than me, which is admittedly diddly squat."

"Oh yeah. Traveling through space is pretty common. We can make it from one end of the Sol System to the other in no time. Not too many civilian crafts outgoing, but then there's not really many places for civilians to go outside of Earth. Believe it or not, we are not very popular with the ones who came from beyond our system."

Cayde set his pencil down beside his notebook, resting an arm on the table as he studied bantha sliders. Just went to show you you could grind up any meat and stick it between a couple of slices of bread.

"Guardians get more flight time. Our jumpships aren't made for passengers, so we get where we need to fast, 'specially if we're trying to head off trouble."

"Unpopular, huh? ... That hasn't changed much. Colonialism didn't make America or England popular with a lot of other nations, either. Nice to know history repeats itself," she said with a sarcastic little roll of her eyes.

She could parse most of the lingo from context, but there was one question that was almost begging to be asked, so she asked it.

"What do you do, as a Guardian? Keep an eye out for the people you're not popular with?"

"'cept it wasn't exactly our choice making enemies like we did out of the Fallen, out of the Hive and the Cabal. When the Traveler came and gifted us with new insight to technological leaps and bounds, it brought us a lot of unwanted attention with it."

But really, how would any of them have known what would come? And given that even after all this time there still wasn't a lot they understood about the Traveler, Cayde wasn't sure that all they'd been holding to was the best option. But a lot had come in the wake of the Traveler, and he wouldn't be here at all if it hadn't made them Guardians.

"Eh, that's part of the job," he said, and then after considering a moment, added, "-okay, most of the job." He smiled wryly, taking another drink. "Since we're the durable ones we scout, we do missions, we kill a lot of things before they kill us- or try to anyway. We're the protectors of humanity- sounds cheesy but that's what it boils down to."

Those were all terms she was unfamiliar with, but at the same time, she heard echoes of something paralell from her own world. Slang that military groups had coined for the Japanese, the Russians, the Viet Cong, the Koreans, and latest of all, the Iraqis and soldiers from Kuwait.

The mention of technological advances, coupled with Cayde's use of the word 'durable' connects a little spark of an idea in Clarice's mind, and she tilts her head slightly, seeing him with a new possible perspective.

"Durable? So ... this is a shot in the dark, forgive me. But ... were you born human, then? Is that what all those leaps and bounds meant?"

Cayde smiled at that. It was the way his optics shuttered just slightly, the small shifts of what movable plates there were to his face that translated it into more of a sober expression than the other smiles he'd flashed.

"Wasn't always an Exo," he replied, which was basically answering the same thing. "We were developed during the Golden Age. Not perfected, we got some issues, but when you used to be human, I guess there's a bit of human stubbornness that just clings to you no matter what- especially when you've still got the brain." He tapped at the side of his head.

"It's a very fine one," she said with a gracious yet somber smile. She could scarcely wrap her head around the concept of still being yourself, but not in the body you'd grown with, become so used to.

"Obviously, you don't have to talk about all of this if you don't want to... but I'd imagine adjusting to the changes must have been difficult. Whatever happened ... for what it's worth, I'm glad it made it possible for you to be here now. You're a good soul, Cayde."

"Why thank you!" Not many complimented his brain, but he supposed it was fair. "There probably was? A lot of adjusting to do- but honestly that was so long ago I don't much remember."

Cayde shrugged, not seeming terribly bothered by it. There'd been steps to get there, sure, but it was a long time for regrets. He liked what he'd shaped himself to be this reboot around.

"Not like there are any take-backs in life. Gotta work with the cards you're dealt. I've just been around long enough to get a better idea 'bout how the game is played."

"Wise words. I couldn't agree more, though I feel like I just started really getting a handle on the rules, myself. Had to switch tables to do it, really, if we wanna keep the metaphor going."

She took another bite of her dinner, washing it down with some of the ale. Burgers and beer. It took her back to her first date with Noble Pilcher from the Smithsonian, and his eager, warm gaze - albeit with that lazy eye. She'd liked him well enough, but he'd not quite been her type. She'd had so much water under the bridge since then, so many moments that had shaped her.

"... You and I, we've got some experience under our belt. But I can't help but notice there are a lot of younger folks here."

Oh, Clarice definitely got more points for carrying on with the metaphor. Cayde did love gambling. He found it easy talking to the woman, more so as she could go along with what he was saying without batting an eye. She'd definitely seen her fill of things.

"I'll bet. I'm curious about what all your experience might entail," he said as he picked up his glass again. "You're right though- whole lotta kids in our group." He paused and looked around. "Unless you mean here here."

"Nah, the group," she said off-handedly, settling in her seat. If he wanted her story, she was happy to share.

"I've got plenty of experience stories to lay on the table, if you wanna kill some time," she offered. "Just a matter of where you feel like starting."

Edited (put a little more card metaphor in there for funsies) 2021-04-06 02:04 (UTC)

"Good amount, yeah. Maybe there's a lot of kids these days out there made of hero-stuff. That seems to be the main them the Agrii are going for but I have no idea what extra-dimensional search engine they're using to find people. Of course there's also the whole language barrier issue."

Cayde smiled. "Somethin' tells me I've got another person for poker nights sometime," he said, lifting his drink in a toast-like gesture. "What all were you doing before you got interrupted and brought out to Agra Ten?"

She toasted him with her own glass and plumbed its depths silently for a moment. It was an easy enough story to start, that was for sure. Baby steps. If she told it slow and well, she might not get to the bits that some would judge her for until they were back on Temba, where it might be easier to tell. Something about laying it all out in such a busy place felt wrong.

"Well," she said, after finally taking another sip, "I was in the FBI. Federal Bureau of Investigation, if you're not familiar."

"Hm," Cayde mused, reaching over for another slider. "Must be pre-Golden Age for sure. Still, sounds important. Investigation, huh?" And Federal. So clearly a top tier group if he was reading into it right.

As he contemplated his slider he tried to remember if he'd ever come across any references to an FBI before, but he was coming up blank.

"Golden Age, huh? I'll trade you stories after I'm done, how's that?" She lifted the top bun on her own and made sure the toppings weren't about to all squoodge out the back when she took a bite, fortifying herself before continuing.

"Yeah, can't remember if I already told you, but my daddy was a night watchman." She thumbed a little condiment from the corner of her mouth. "He died trying to stop a robbery. Whole thing just ... made me want to be like him even more, when it was all said and done. So I went to college for psychology, then signed up for Quantico, which is the name of the FBI Academy."

"Heh, my memories of the Golden Age are kind of all over the place so I couldn't tell you any good stories from then, but otherwise? Sure, I'm good for that."

Cayde polished off his slider easily enough, careful not to get anything anywhere embarrassing. "Don't think you did," he said as he listened to Clarice. There was the subtlest softening in his expression somehow. Even his smile somehow managed to convey some sadness in sympathy. What would have Ace done, when dad didn't come back home because he got himself turned into a robot? How much did Ace know about dad's dangerous jobs even before then? ...was Ace even real?

"Bet you would've made him proud," he said.

She picked up on the little changes, his sympathy, and returned a kind, sad smile of her own. Loss was a universal language as sure as love. They cast each other's shadows.

"I believe you're right," she said simply. It had taken her a long time to allow herself that thought, and it had been hard-won. "But for a helluva long time, I thought I had to see that pride in others 'cuz he wasn't there. Which ... I put up with more than I probably should've. Played a game I didn't really like much."

Cayde chuckled a little as he pulled his drink over. "Eh, that's always how it is though, isn't it? There's a lot of things you figure you could've saved a lot of time and grief on if you'd realized the important bits sooner. Guess why there's that saying about hindsight," he said with a rueful smile.

"Important thing is that we manage to work it out with ourselves."

She nodded, understanding him and appreciating his wisdom more than she could convey. It was wisdom she shared, true, but sometimes it was nice to hear that someone else had come through the other side with the same sort of takeaway as you.

"Yeah. I was really gung-ho for just about everything the Bureau stood for on paper, for years. Then that faith came right back around and bit me in the ass, because I didn't play the politics that were 'supposed' to go with it." She gave it the sarcastic, derogatory air quotes it deserved.

The Exo made a face. "Politics just make things complicated. Big name groups get too big and all the reputation and expectation gets rolled up with 'em, but nothing's fool-proof, and the name's only as good as the people working under it."

He shrugged. "So did you leave?"

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♤ Time Flies By In the City of Light

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