Post by g2m559 on Jul 21, 2023 19:09:49 GMT
Novaron politely sat in the diner-looking establishment inside of the mall, second floor. It was fake, all of it - Novaron knew this well. The posters weren’t of real bands, no way in hell would this tiny alcove of an establishment be able to dish out the licensing fees for some of these. He squinted at the lettering, all of it being somewhat obfuscated by the reflection of fake halogen lights on the laminated plastic material. “(Lonely)” by Dim-Dusk, and “Sillypost Forever” by King Gizzard for the Inauguration tour. Novaron thought for a moment, cycling through his repertoire of media knowledge - not that he was particularly well versed in it. Ah, a triple-riff; Inauguration referenced the Coronation tour… “(Lonely)” by Dim-Dusk was a reference to [ALONE] by Dark-Night… and “Sillypost Forever” by King Gizzard was a reference to “Shitpost ad Infinitum” by Lord Paige.
Wow.. everything here really was a fake, a riff, or a knockoff. The border, at least conceptually, thought Novaron, was not very well defined. Even the waiters wore antiquated uniforms, the tiles, the table, and paint job of the establishment were a veneer, all make believe. Cynical, perhaps he was, but he knew that if he walked over and entered the kitchen he’d be seeing only the latest in standard cookware; not the old propane stoves of times long since passed. Why did they invite him here again? Sure, there’s the inconspicuousness of a mall, in where they’d simply be lost in the crowd: it beat meeting up somewhere dark and dank, where it was the cover of shadow upon where they’d meet. But why a restaurant? Novaron wasn’t too keen on food, granted his nature as a hydrocarbon-guzzling robot. He already had to tell the nice waitress on three separate occasions that he needed “five more minutes”.
It was at that precise moment that Novaron would see movement from the corner of his eye. The busy mall was no stranger to motion and even a bit of chaos; this, however, was the kind of movement which demanded attention. A dark form moved across, through, around the crowds, seemingly solid yet fluid, or gaseous. It gave Novaron a headache to look at, as if some cold pike was being wedged into his conscience. The terrible form billowed, towering over the mall goers; yet not a single individual turned their heads or even acknowledged what they saw. The black mass looked directly back at Novaron, yet it was impossible to meet its gaze, Novaron couldn’t decide if it was eyes the thing lacked, or if there were too many; or if it was his very own eyes which refused to meet its gaze. The mass grew legs, biomechanical characteristics and implants unveiling themselves as the mass came into focus; surrounding individuals none the wiser. It crawled, slithered, towards Novaron, with each passing moment its form changed and altered, Novaron’s mind could simply not reconcile exactly what he was seeing, as it ducked to enter the diner.
Like the limanent, its contents compressed. The form became smaller. More condensed. The mass transformed into a human, or the veneer of one. It smiles at Novaron, a thin pale smile, an expression, much like the posters around them, was fake. It extends its black-gloved hand towards Novaron, who reciprocates: they firmly shake hands.
“Hello Novaron.” It says coldly. There was movement under the pale skin, as if the form underneath the human veneer was still reconciling with its new container. Upon closer inspection, faint scarlines were seen on the thing’s skin, faded lightning-shaped scars webbing across one side of the face. A patch of some sort was sewn into his clothes; a nonagon, each vertex connected to the other with a red spoke.
“Yes, I believe it was with.. Owen? That I was to meet with?” Replied Novaron
“For the purposes of this meeting, I am Owen. Pleased to meet you.” Owen replied.
It would take out a flash drive. A compact design, the exterior smooth and featureless, yet Novaron knew exactly what was contained within.
“Your turn.”
Novaron took out his own small drive, this one loaded with SIGEC, a fortune. Both parties placed their respective drives in the middle of the table. A waitress approached the table with a very traditional diner style burger and fries, as she bent down to set the plate on the table, her eyes were visibly blank. Completely thoughtless. Owen had never verbally made his order to the diner staff.
He opens the burger like a book, placing three fries down, and then closes the bun, picking it up, a few sesame seeds falling down from the top bun and onto his plate. He hungrily takes a bite out of it, warm condiment and juices covering his palate as the lettuce crunch between his incisors. He pulls back, chewing a mouthful of the sandwich.
“Unmar steel. A new lifeblood for three nations. But you know this already, Novaron. The shipment is incomprehensibly expensive; the very first production run of Unmar Steel will be the most expensive it’s going to get. It’s not my place to comment on the strategic operations of the Second Dawn, but you do understand that this will get you into fairly deep shit with the rest of Unmar.”
Novaron would look up from staring at the flash drives. The manner in which Owen ate his meal was outright uncomfortable to witness, let alone look at; thus Novaron elected simply to look at the drives.
“You’re right Owen, it isn’t your place to comment.” Novaton replied curtly, cutting the conversation short as he reached for Owen’s flash drive. His fingers curl around its stainless steel frame, fairly weighty for what it was. “Pleasure doing business with you, Owen,” he lied.
“Of course, Novaron.” Owen set the food down; as he took his napkin and wiped his thin lips clean of crumbs and grease. The burger patty was visibly barely cooked, the sear only present on its extremities, while the interior was raw. He took the SIGEC loaded flash drive and placed it in a coat pocket. “It’s a shame you turned the waitress down thrice, you know why I invited you here, yes? The food is fantastic.”
In an instant, Owen was engulfed by a dazzling flash of red lightning. As the electric storm subsided, a cloud of black smoke billowed, veiling the place where Owen had stood moments before. His presence faded from the room, and the lingering scent of ozone filled the air.
As the feeling of the thing’s presence subsided, the atmosphere lightened significantly. Details of the encounter seemed to dissolve in a sea of relief that game with Owen’s departure. Novaron clasped his hand around the flash drive in his hand - he had what he needed to finally enable the Second Dawn to hit its foes where it hurt.
Wow.. everything here really was a fake, a riff, or a knockoff. The border, at least conceptually, thought Novaron, was not very well defined. Even the waiters wore antiquated uniforms, the tiles, the table, and paint job of the establishment were a veneer, all make believe. Cynical, perhaps he was, but he knew that if he walked over and entered the kitchen he’d be seeing only the latest in standard cookware; not the old propane stoves of times long since passed. Why did they invite him here again? Sure, there’s the inconspicuousness of a mall, in where they’d simply be lost in the crowd: it beat meeting up somewhere dark and dank, where it was the cover of shadow upon where they’d meet. But why a restaurant? Novaron wasn’t too keen on food, granted his nature as a hydrocarbon-guzzling robot. He already had to tell the nice waitress on three separate occasions that he needed “five more minutes”.
It was at that precise moment that Novaron would see movement from the corner of his eye. The busy mall was no stranger to motion and even a bit of chaos; this, however, was the kind of movement which demanded attention. A dark form moved across, through, around the crowds, seemingly solid yet fluid, or gaseous. It gave Novaron a headache to look at, as if some cold pike was being wedged into his conscience. The terrible form billowed, towering over the mall goers; yet not a single individual turned their heads or even acknowledged what they saw. The black mass looked directly back at Novaron, yet it was impossible to meet its gaze, Novaron couldn’t decide if it was eyes the thing lacked, or if there were too many; or if it was his very own eyes which refused to meet its gaze. The mass grew legs, biomechanical characteristics and implants unveiling themselves as the mass came into focus; surrounding individuals none the wiser. It crawled, slithered, towards Novaron, with each passing moment its form changed and altered, Novaron’s mind could simply not reconcile exactly what he was seeing, as it ducked to enter the diner.
Like the limanent, its contents compressed. The form became smaller. More condensed. The mass transformed into a human, or the veneer of one. It smiles at Novaron, a thin pale smile, an expression, much like the posters around them, was fake. It extends its black-gloved hand towards Novaron, who reciprocates: they firmly shake hands.
“Hello Novaron.” It says coldly. There was movement under the pale skin, as if the form underneath the human veneer was still reconciling with its new container. Upon closer inspection, faint scarlines were seen on the thing’s skin, faded lightning-shaped scars webbing across one side of the face. A patch of some sort was sewn into his clothes; a nonagon, each vertex connected to the other with a red spoke.
“Yes, I believe it was with.. Owen? That I was to meet with?” Replied Novaron
“For the purposes of this meeting, I am Owen. Pleased to meet you.” Owen replied.
It would take out a flash drive. A compact design, the exterior smooth and featureless, yet Novaron knew exactly what was contained within.
“Your turn.”
Novaron took out his own small drive, this one loaded with SIGEC, a fortune. Both parties placed their respective drives in the middle of the table. A waitress approached the table with a very traditional diner style burger and fries, as she bent down to set the plate on the table, her eyes were visibly blank. Completely thoughtless. Owen had never verbally made his order to the diner staff.
He opens the burger like a book, placing three fries down, and then closes the bun, picking it up, a few sesame seeds falling down from the top bun and onto his plate. He hungrily takes a bite out of it, warm condiment and juices covering his palate as the lettuce crunch between his incisors. He pulls back, chewing a mouthful of the sandwich.
“Unmar steel. A new lifeblood for three nations. But you know this already, Novaron. The shipment is incomprehensibly expensive; the very first production run of Unmar Steel will be the most expensive it’s going to get. It’s not my place to comment on the strategic operations of the Second Dawn, but you do understand that this will get you into fairly deep shit with the rest of Unmar.”
Novaron would look up from staring at the flash drives. The manner in which Owen ate his meal was outright uncomfortable to witness, let alone look at; thus Novaron elected simply to look at the drives.
“You’re right Owen, it isn’t your place to comment.” Novaton replied curtly, cutting the conversation short as he reached for Owen’s flash drive. His fingers curl around its stainless steel frame, fairly weighty for what it was. “Pleasure doing business with you, Owen,” he lied.
“Of course, Novaron.” Owen set the food down; as he took his napkin and wiped his thin lips clean of crumbs and grease. The burger patty was visibly barely cooked, the sear only present on its extremities, while the interior was raw. He took the SIGEC loaded flash drive and placed it in a coat pocket. “It’s a shame you turned the waitress down thrice, you know why I invited you here, yes? The food is fantastic.”
In an instant, Owen was engulfed by a dazzling flash of red lightning. As the electric storm subsided, a cloud of black smoke billowed, veiling the place where Owen had stood moments before. His presence faded from the room, and the lingering scent of ozone filled the air.
As the feeling of the thing’s presence subsided, the atmosphere lightened significantly. Details of the encounter seemed to dissolve in a sea of relief that game with Owen’s departure. Novaron clasped his hand around the flash drive in his hand - he had what he needed to finally enable the Second Dawn to hit its foes where it hurt.