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Semi-Autogyro

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  1. Claude held out his isochronon as he rotated to find the correct bearing, "Day-mon. Not De-mon. From the Greek meanin', so ya don't have ta worry about packin' your holy rollers." He idly corrected as the device began humming, emitting an actinic violet light from what looked to be vacuum tubes. He swept it back and forth in front of him as he continued his explanation. "They're basically native to the fourth dimension, but sometimes they find their way into ours. When that happens, they can't literally eat anything here except time to survive. So if we can wrestle this one back to where it came from it should wander off." The device in his hands made a noise like a typewriter return, causing Claude to smack it a bit. "Anyways, there was enough temporal anomalies in the park that it was the equivalent of ringin' a dinner bell. Why I don't know, but don't let it catch you. 'Specially you, Mona. Last thing we need to add to the situation is makin it' a T-baby on toppa everythin' else..." The isonchronon gave a two-toned beep and Claude pointed further into the park. "It's lookin' to be by the planetarium...but it ain't movin' for whatever reason."
  2. Claude gave a squak of alarm at the unexpected presence of the two ladies, making a misstep as his boot caught the curb. Luckily he managed to roll with it enough that it was a somewhat graceful recovery. Once back on even footing, there was a deer in the headlights look of panic that quickly shifted to a considering look on his face. "Wha? Ya shouldn't be able ta come..." The proverbial lightbulb must have happened, because he groaned in frustration as his gaze fell on Fulcrum. "Terminus energy. Shoulda remembered. Dammit, Doc is going to have a field day with this." The last sentence was muttered more to himself. "Well, the cat is outta the bag. Call me Gnomon. I'm with Guardians of Time and you're now temporarily deputized to deal with a illegal temporal incursion. Judgin' by what my isochronon is tellin' me, it's most likely a daemon. Wathever it is, it's in the park and if we don't stop it it'll drain any livin' things for their quintessence to feed itself. The older the prey the better, so unless if ya have any more questions we need to get in there before it's the size of a Mack truck."
  3. Claude slumped a bit with an annoyed look on his face and gave then an irritated sigh at the arrival of his mentor, fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on the table "One of these days you're gonna explain how you always manage to arrive at the perfect time ta cut me down, Doc." Looking back at Nick, he gave his roomie a wry grin before shaking his head while holding up a hand to refuse the dosh. "Nah man, save it for later. As the sayin' goes, 'but wait, there's more!'". The Southie then took the time to grab a spoonful of potato salad. "We're just getting to the big reveal, Doc." Claude said shortly after swallowing. "If ya want ta grab some more grub, it's on the island over there."
  4. Gnomon - 3 Posts = 1 PP Punching Up = 3 Posts
  5. Claude frowned and softly sighed at the two pulled punches, "Slick moves from a man outta time." he complimented quietly to Benny before tapping the larger teen on the arm admitting his capitulation. "Allright, ya got me," the Southie admitted easily, straightening fully upright after being released from the clench. "But givin' me little options by cornerin' up means I can't do nothin' about your better reach and I can't use footwork like I'd prefer to. Had to ape your style to close the gap effectively without eatin' a combo to the kisser." The Bostonian explained, not seemingly concerned about getting made an example of. "Plus, I was tryin' to sucker ya into thinkin' I was goin' to keep repeatin' the liver shot to make you complacent and drop your guard. Didn't work, but them's the breaks." Claude grinned. "Sides, if I wind up with only my fists available against a guy like you then I've royally screwed the pooch and deserve what's comin' to me for bein' a dumbass." Satisfied with the outcome, Claude stepped off the mat and let someone else have a go while Benny hammered the importance of fundamentals again.
  6. Claude scoffed at Benny's statement. "Tch. I'd need at least a trebuchet for ya, pally." He approached the corner the Brooklyn bomber was in, most of his weight on his toes so he could potentially weave around what got thrown at him. He shifted his hands into a peekaboo style, intent on protecting his face and core as he darted forward to throw a furry of strait jabs with his right at Benny's mug, followed by left hook directed at the liver again. Hopefully his opponent would be more concerned more concerned with the jabs to ward against the repeat strike. The Southie again made to withdraw after the exchange not wanting to be caught and manhandled by the other boy's meathooks.
  7. Claude had been strangely quiet through the whole show electing to watch the pair with a calculating gaze; apparently coming to a decision as Ashley tapped out. The boy from Boston waited until Ashley had cleared off the mat before stepping in, electing to check the springiness of the floor with a few bounces as he moved in front of Benny and dropping into the southpaw hitman stance he had used earlier. "For the record, lightweight vs. heavyweight ain't exactly a fair cop. David versus Goliath usually winds up with Goliath feedin' Davy boy his teeth." Claude stated as he raised his left glove for the other to tap, his body language taut like a coiled spring. As soon as their gloves made contact, the Southie threw a feinting jab with his right and followed up with a liver blow with his left to try and take advantage of his opponent focusing on the initial strike. It was clear that Claude was trained primarily as a outboxer, with how he tried to make space by using footwork to try and slip outside Benny's reach immediately after delivering the combo.
  8. Gnomon - 14 Posts = 2 PP Park Time Job = 1 Post Punching Up = 7 Posts Tech Compliance (Open) = 1 Post Here & Now & Then = 5 Posts
  9. "Yeah, Yeah. School o' hard knocks is a brutal teacher." Claude said, actually agreeing with Ashley as he moved back to start shadowboxing again. "Harsh, but better than dyin' in a ditch." "Really, Inky? You're proud of the ability to take a beatin'? Trained since you were little to do it?" Claude gave the boy from Brooklyn an arched eyebrow. "'Mosta the time that wouldn't be somethin' to crow about. Unless ya like the taste. Sides, people like Sunshine over there could turn you into takoyaki if she felt inclined, no fists needed." He grinned at everyone. "That bein' said, I'll echo Muttley's sentiment here and quote the Tao of Ed Gruberman: 'I wanna beat people up right now'."
  10. "Ya see, the cube was merely an sort of 'capture' of Freedom City at that day. Like a file copy on a flash drive. However, I didn't plan on it still bein' plugged into the supercomputer so to speak. I basically crashed it by using my brain as a neural link. With all the conflicting extraneous data, it scrammed like nuke reactor and dumped me into the physical site of the mainframe as a failsafe." Claude shook his head ruefully. "The good news I was outta the loop. The bad news I was pretty sure I did a number on my gray matter, since I started realizin' I knew stuff about the place I was in: The Dolorous Clock. The worse news was an alarm started going off. I'm an ex-con. I made it about twenty feet on sheer instinctive panic before I ate the floor again. I'm pretty much down for the count between the nausea, the nosebleed that wasn't stoppin', and the cherry on top bein' the head trauma that the alarm was not doin' any favors for. I dunno how long I was there, it was all kind of fuzzy for a while but next thing I clearly remember was seein' a pair of red jackboots dead in front of me..." Claude was gesticulating wildly as he explained, clearly building up to a reveal. "And then you promptly threw up on them." Came a new voice, tinged with amusement. Entering the room, the man needed no introduction. Red shirt and boots, black pants, dual ray guns, and the iconic jetpack. Doctor Tomorrow.
  11. Claude took the criticism in stride, made some corrections and kept at it. Even if he gave Benny an odd look at saying that he wasn't light on his feet. Granted, the only time he really needed to be punchin' fools is if everything went to hell, but that was a common occurrence as far as he was concerned. Most people who he had to deal with as a Guardian were not the subtle sort. Still, it would be rare that he'd throw down face to face. Usually he'd just ambush or sucker punch his opponents with feints and distractions. Then a bead of sweat managed to get into his eye, so he decided to take a quick break and grab a water much like Grim was doing. Wiping his face off with a towel, he glanced over at the only person wearing a costume in the gym. Was that a tattoo? The sacred heart? Relatively normal, especially when he considered how much a holy roller Sunshine appeared to be. Waitaminute. Tyler? Hadn't Nick said that Grim was at the LGBT+ club? The boy from Boston eyes narrowed as he noticed what looked another name in vietnamese inked into her arms as well. Moments later, the repository confirmed his initial guess. 'Phillip', it read. Huh. Odd. Yet more pieces to try and solve the puzzle that was angry grrl. Still, that was a problem for later. Now, it was back to punching.
  12. Claude gave an exaggerated eye roll to Benny's instructions, but he still complied. The two jabs followed by the slip to deliver the hook, all delivered with punishing precision. Whoever had instructed the the Southie was a professional as Claude defty moved backwards out of sheer habit to avoid the counterpunch that would usually come after delivering a straight a combo like that. Lightly bouncing on his toes, he glanced over to Heroditus. "Huh, I never woulda guessed that some people take the 'science' part of the whole 'sweet science' thing literally." "Eh, whatever works." The Bostonian said with a light shrug of his shoulders as he rendered his verdict. A quick step took him back within striking distance of the pads in Benny's hands. Jab. Jab. Hook. Disengage.
  13. Claude blinked at Bennys' outburst and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Alright with me," he said as he set his jaw with a mullish glare at the floor and began flexing his hands to get the tape settled right. "For the record, I even if I needle someone, I'll still work with them. I'll shove personal feelings aside to get the job done, but I'll never leave someone else holding the bag." Claude said still facing the floor, voice oddly serious with his normal accent missing. Claude quietly fell into his preferred stance after that, specifically the hitman style: his left arm hanging near the waist while his right arm was closely drawn to his chest area. It wasn't as powerful as the normal orthodox stance, but it let him leverage his gangly arms to deliver wicked fast flicker jabs. He waited until Benny was nearby and focused on him before addressing the other teen. "I appreciate the lesson in basics, bossman, but that don't exactly help me. Bit past these lessons but I don't wanna stop the newbies from learnin'." The Bostonian threw a flurry of light jabs with his left before comboing into a cross smash with his right. "If ya want, I'll busy myself with the speed bag until ya need me."
  14. Claude sighed as today was apparently all about doubling down. He cleared his throat before piping up at Leroy and Ben. "Yanno, I'm all for the Tim Taylor school of tinkerin'. But there's this little thing called collateral damage you might want to be concerned about here, pally. It's fine if you're okay with meltin' your own face off or turnin' your own insides to gravy, but the rest of us didn't come here expectin' to have to deal with that happenin'. Especially, showin' off like you are and then asking for permission. You're excited, I get that, but try an tone it down a bit instead of going from zero to Von Neumann device. This ain't a popularity or a tech measurin' contest, after all." Apparently done, the Bostonian turned back to his groups whiteboard and started drawing a circuit diagram.
  15. Claude continued at Nicks' nod to continue, silently appreciative that his new roommate was apparently saving his questions for later. "So, there I was spendin' the days impovin' myself when I figured, why the hell not go get my head shrinked? Went to a few, some good some quacks. Till I ran into one Dr. Chiba Kobayashi, I really was just spinnin' my wheels." "At first it was because she entertained the fact that I was living my life on repeat. Till I convinced her otherwise with stuff I shouldn't have any idea of knowin' about, heh." He chuckled in fond remembrance at the memory. "Eventually she helped get my head screwed on straight, then one day she asked a question that changed everything: 'What if you are the only one aware of what is happening and everyone else is stuck like you are?'" He gave Nick a level look. " Now I ain't a saint and never professed to be one. But if that all was somehow my fault or I was the only one who could help, I had ta fix it. I ain't my old man. I own up to my mistakes, especially after seein' what they did to me. I owe Chi everythin' for pullin' my punk ass outta my funk and gettin' me back to my feet so I could look beyond my own problems." "The issue I quickly ran into was time. Irony, am I right? I had all the time in the world and not enough at the same time. The reset, well, reset everything to five in the morning once it hit midnight. So, I only had around nineteen hours to somehow stop the loop." Claude paused to take a few bites of his food. "Anyways, I won't bore you with everything I tried or what I learned in the attempts. You could fill a library with that, which was where I found the concept of the the noosphere. Basically, it's the idea that there's a sort of 'collective unconscious' that all humans, especially psionic metahumans interact and broadcast into. Think of it like human cloud computin' if you get that analogy. So, what if I could forcibly update this unconsciousness to make it so everyone was aware like I was they were in a loop? Talked to some psions, made some tech, tried out a few things, and got some promisin' results." The Southie took a long drink from his water. "Sorry, bit parched from all the jabberin'. The only issue was that then everybody would be freakin' out like I was when I found about livin' on repeat. So I tried tweaking it and set to see if I could use the noosphere as a storage medium for everyone's' memories. That was both the right and wrong thing to do." Claude looked rather chagrined. "I broke it. The loop and everythin' else connected to it." He patted the pocket where he had put the cube away in. "The feedback went straight into my brainpan and the next thing I know I'm no longer in Freedom City but sitting in a weird ass clockworks with one hell of a migraine drippin' blood from my nose like a faucet, with the cube sitting on the floor glowin' red hot while smoking like an addict with a pack a day habit." "
  16. "Your parents must be very proud." He sarcastically drawled, turning to give Ben a "Mornin' Inky." as the octopodial teen passed by. "Firstly, you ain't my type, no offense. Second, I ain't tryin' sell anythin'. Day one, you went ballistic doin' your 'big bad dawg' act then did a 180 so fast you coulda given yourself whiplash. Why? Dunno. If ya had just disliked me for callin' your bluff, that's one thing. But it's interestin' problem for me to poke at in the meanwhile." He rolled his shoulders, limbering up a bit. "I'm a savant that doesn't need to sleep. Puzzles are about the only intriguin' thing I have goin' for me aside from the occasional diversion like this little shindig. So, if you'd slow your roll for an hour or so maybe we could all get somethin' out of today." He shot Ashley a vulpine smile. "And just maybe, you'll be free and clear to punch me in the face."
  17. Claude offered up his other hand. "Heh, it's a failing of mine I admit. Pokin' things and people when I shoulda known better. Really, in Ash's case it's more that the first read I got off her is she's fakin' the whole biker chick persona for whatever reason. She dropped her act for a moment when Claremont's very own Leroy Jenkins of love proposed to her sister. If I was a bettin' man, and I am..." Claude paused as he heard the door to the gym open and gave rueful chuckle when he spotted the pair that he had missed while talking to Benny and the Atlantean approaching them. "Speakin' of the lady and the tiger...” he added sotto voce before giving the trio a jaunty salute with his already taped hand. "Ladies." he greeted before arching an amused eyebrow at their byplay. "Waitaminute. OG Raven is in his seventies by now. So you're going around and holding up geriatric retired superheroes at gunpoint? And braggin' about it?" Now the Atlantean, that was an odd person to be wanting to learn how to break faces. Named the same as the Greek historian, which Claude to have all sorts of questions on divergent linguistics when he first learned the teens name. Claude let Herodotus speak and Benny reminisce about his meeting with the writing desk adjacent heroic legacy, before chiming in after the warning about phalange safety. "If anybody does need a medic or somethin', I'll handle it. Unless somebody brings a gun to a fistfight."
  18. "Claude shrugged and shot Benny a wry grin. "Eh, don't sell yourself short there, man. At the very least just havin' a sparrin' partner is a step up from having ta shadowbox while I run." Claude shucked off his hoodie and tossed it haphazardly on the nearby bench. Compared to Benny, Claude was much less of a physical specimen. The Southie was by no means out of shape with a wiry swimmers' build, but it didn't help that by Claudes' rough estimation he was about half of his impromptu teachers' mass. The lightweight to Benny-boy's heavyweight. "Ahlright, I'm a southpaw so let's start dere." He offered up his left hand. "Thanks for doin' this pally. My only choices were either you or grimace the grumpy menace so I'm glad you were here this mornin'. Everybody else I've met so far in this joint tend to use their powers instead of carin' about throwin' a proper punch."
  19. A weather rumpled Claude opened the door and walked into the Claremont gym , wearing a hoodie and sweats with a pair of trainers on his feet. He looked to be heading for the locker room, but when he saw Benny he stopped and wandered over. "Hey Benny. I hear you're the man to go to for the sweet science of punchin' people in the mouth." The Bostonian drawl says with an appraising look in his eye. "I have some formal trainin' and experience in a scrap, but can't hurt to learn some more." Claude said to his fellow pugilist. "
  20. Claude gave a dark chuckle as he put the cube back in one of his pockets. "Got it in one. That freakin' thing dropped me in a temporal loop of Freedom City. I got the pleasure of relivin' February 29, 2016 on repeat." "I still don't know how I managed to trigger it, with the ones who made the thing clammin' up on the subject when I asked them. If it had worked as intended, the guy they meant it for would have been sealed in the cube and unable to escape. Zeitgeist would have body-jacked someone and when the restart happened his memory would be reset as well due to the fact he was wearin' a meat puppet. Result: one delusional Nazi ghost who never cottons onto the fact he got punked. Toss the repository in a vault and throw away the key." The Bostonian grabs one of the napkins and mimes washing his hands with it and then lobs it over his shoulder into a waste bin that was behind him. "Boom. Mischief permanently managed." "So when I got yoinked instead, I got the absolute pleasure of keepin' my memory from loop to loop and nothin' else." Claude folds him arms across his chest. "So when they say time is relative, they're right. I quickly lost track of how many loops I was in. Just kept on wakin' up on my last day in juvie starin' at the bottom of the bunk above me. Again and again and again." He takes a deep breath and releases a sigh. "I don't like tellin' people about this next part. It didn't take long at all for me to start abusin' it. Since you know in advance that everything is always going to go back to the way it was, then you could do anything, for as long as you want, without having to worry about consequences. I did great things. Terrible things. Things I'm not proud of. But once the novelty of the situation went away, I crashed. Hard. Kept on tryin' to get out of the loop. When that didn't work and I couldn't see any way to escape..." Claude had been staring out the window as he told his tale, but at the last statement he closes his eyes and shakes his head. "...I took the easy way out. Countless times. Every way I could think of to see if it would stick." He looks at Nick again. "Once my self destructive streak was over, it was apathy that set in. Unending ennui for a long time. But even apathy eventually got to be boring. So I started teachin' myself things since I kept my memory, so I could keep my experiences between loops at least. Guitar playing, cooking, sculpting. You name it, I did it. Gave me purpose and a reason to keep going. With me so far?"
  21. "Yeah, got it in one." Claude nodded. "But that's a freebie. Some people don't exactly have a positive reaction to findin' out their roomie is an ex con." The Bostonian bulled on. "Anyways, Did a nine month stint. Got out on good behavior, if you can believe that." There was a self effacing smirk plastered on Claudes' face at the last statement. It didn't last as he stood. "My old man was waiting for me. Had a plan, needed my help." Claude was pacing back and forth, body taut as his voice. "The same man who left me holdin' the bag. Actin' like he gave a damn. He didn't need Claude. He needed Kit-Bash. Not even a 'Hey, sport. How ya doin' before trying to rope me in on a score." There was a very real anger in his voice, his accent becoming rougher by the minute. "So I figgered, why not let him learn a lesson like I did? Agreed to help, trigger the silent alarm and wash my hands of it. Job was a little place up in Baltimore, an exhibit about the Liberty League." Claudes' voice is rising steadily, until a calico cat suddenly starts rubbing on his leg causing him to look down. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before he faces Nick, "Sorry bout dat. Still a sore spot even though its' been years." Returning to his seat under the watchful gaze of both Nick and the calico, he continued. "Scrounge starts just grabbin' everythin' in even though it was replicas or mockups. Everythin' except this." Claude pulls a cube out of one of his pockets and set it on the table. "Spotted this, went to take it so dear old dad wouldn't get his hands on it so I could return it later on the down low." Nick could practically read Claudes' conflicted emotions by his enhanced senses as if they were a flashing neon sign. "Too bad it was a trap. Not meant for me, but I managed to booby into it anyways. Say Nick, have you ever seen the movie Groundhog Day?" The segue was admittedly odd but by the look on Claudes' face he wanted a serious answer from Nick.
  22. Riverside Park There. A lone prey isolating itself further from the others as it went inside a structure. It decided to eat the little not quite alive or dead morsel before looking for a way into where the prey last went... Claude & Company Claude chewed on his wrap thoughtfully for a bit before swallowing. "When you get down to brass tacks, magic much like science, is based a whole lotta rules. Well, yanno barrin' chaos magic. But same thing could be said of it's more scientific leanin' counterpart of chaos theory. Anybody tryin' to tell ya differently is tryin' to sell ya something. Hell, Dedalus made some pointed comments a time or two on the Greek Pantheon bein' a long running scam on their part. I mean, Pers.." whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by the Bostonian going ramrod straight and pulling a bronze object that looked roughly similar to a pocket watch out. An insistent sounding alarm was coming from the device that was silenced as Claude opened it. Moments later, he went distinctly ashen as the color drained from his face. A few heartbeats later and he was already vaulting the nearby railing, headed towards the park. His clothes had changed mid leap from the simple exercise outfit to a herringbone waistcoat with matching pants, a flat cap, and a pair of sturdy work boots. Completing the throwback ensemble was a domino mask if there was any doubt to his bona fides as a card carrying member of the cape and cowl crowd. Mona and Selena caught the Southie fiddle with his device mid run, before an odd sense of detachment and vertigo hit them before they both noticed that nothing else was moving. Everything was oddly frozen in place from the water pouring from a glass to the birds in the sky. Everything except them and Claude who was sliding across the hood of a immovable car on the street.
  23. Claude ate some of the okra, chewing with a thoughtful look at Nick before swallowing to answer his questions. "In order? Time management, somebody gave 'em to me, and it's generally what happens when you work outside." Claude gave Nick a completely serious look and broke down laughing as soon as he saw his friends' reaction to the non-answers. "Sorry, buddy. You pitched that one straight at me. Had to take the bunt, just to see your reaction." The Bostonian made a show of wiping a tear from one of his eyes. "Heh. Anyways, those questions are ones you need to ask so that you are open to the possibility of what those answers really mean. I did answer all of them truthfully and I know it's going to be annoyin' as crap, but I'll have to keep doin' obfuscations like that when people not in the loop are around." Claude picked at his potato salad before continuing. "So before I get to answering those last ones directly without screwin' with ya, ya gotta know a bit about my personal history." He leaned over and pulled a set of three laminated newspaper clippings off a nearby shelf, sliding it over to Nick for him to read as Claude continued to eat. The articles were dated from 2015 and read: "ArcheTech Transport Hijacking Foiled", "Scrounge Still at Large, Son in Custody", and "Kit-Bash Sentenced to 1 Year in Juvenile Detention". Claude was surprisingly quiet as his roommate read the articles, the only sound that he was still there was the occasional clink of silverware against china.
  24. Gnomon Crime Doesn't Pay (1 Post) Here & Now & Then (4 Posts) It's Mov(in)g Day! (3 Posts) Tech Compliance (6 Posts) 1 + 4 + 3 + 6 = 14 Posts (+2 PP) September-October Vignette: Ever Forward (>1000 words, +2PP) 2 + 2 = 4 PP Total
  25. Gnomon - "Ever Forward" Morgan House Workshop, Freedom City August 2nd, 2019 Claude glowered at the locked door and then back to the note clenched in his hands. Claude warily eyeballed the calico cat who was lazing in front of the door out of the workshop before crumpling up the paper and chucking into a waste bin across the room. “It's never 'Good Job, Claude' or 'Wow, you made a time machine while stranded in the fourteen hundreds while being hunted by anarchist hippies!'. I did it before the Daedalus movie was even technically made! I get no respect!” The Bostonian groused, with the feline company looking utterly apathetic to his ranting. Still, he didn't want to be stuck here who knows how long. Especially since time was currently suspended while inside the workshop due to the fact the clock on the wall was unmoving. Least I won't get hungry or thirsty, Claude thought as he sighed and began mentally accessing the repository. Lessee...temporal mechanics, check. Electrical engineering, check. Horology, check. Blueprint drafting, check. Claude moved over to the table and began plotting out what he would need. “Okay, I think it's ready to charge.” Claude said to his furry company as he regarded the fruits of his labor: an ornate looking pocketwatch, face blank and nonfunctional. Carefully he flipped it over, giving him access to the internals. A Daka Crystal the size of his thumb sat inside a glass reservoir. He needed to fill it with Quintessence, and he only had enough left over from salvaging his previous work to do this once. Once done, the isochronon would be continually powered, replenishing the Quintessence by siphoning and filtering the ambient temporal background that was omnipresent as long as the time stream existed. And if it didn't ever exist, well, I'm more than likely completely screwed as well. The morose thought passed through Claudes' mind as he reached for the small container of what looked like a liquid mirror. Careful not to jar the contents too much, he swirled it a few times before breaking the seal on the top. “Well, here goes' nothin'.” He began pouring the Quintessence into the isochonon, the fluid inside flowing out oddly but still obeying the law of gravity. Sweat beaded on the Bostonians' forehead as he held his hand steady, having to wait until the ichor of time itself decided to finish leaving the bottle. Eventually it made it's way to where Claude had intended it to go and he slumped in relief after capping off the reservoir. Suddenly, his lap was full of cat, rubbing into his chest. “Okay, okay. Sorry I haven't been payin' attention to ya Dala.” Petting said cat with his offhand, he closed up the back of his watch and set it face up on the table. Only things he had left to do was to attenuate the isochronon to his temporal signature and then do the initial winding. But that was for later, since he had now had business with the attention starved feline. “Well girl, you didn't stop me so far so I'm hopin' that that's a good sign. Could be worse though. Coulda been stuck in here with Mobius.” Claude got a bit hand for that. “Ow! Hey! Watch the fingers!” Claude hissed in pain as Dala jumped off his lap and went zooming away deeper into the workshop. “Great, Now I'm bleedin' everywhere.” Claude scowled as the bite dipped some blood on the table and began looking for a rag or something to staunch it before pausing. Wait a minute, he thought before holding his wounded digits over the watch and began dribbling blood on it. Soon, the purplish-gray sheen of the psitanium casing started taking on a more copper colored hue until the isochronon looked to be cast from burnished bronze. The smug sounding meow coming from the top of a nearby shelf caused Claude to chuckle as he moved over to where the first aid kit was. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, ya little jerk.” He drawled while cleaning up the bites and covering them with band-aids. Taking some alcohol swabs back over to the work table he began cleaning the blood splatter off his isochronon and the table. It took a bit, but he was now ready to do the initial winding. Taking the device, he grabbed the screwdriver he was going to use as the winding key and inserted it into the winding arbor. Turning the key also caused a steadily increasing pitch to emit from the device, which plateaued and died off as he felt the ratchet lock into place. Claude released a breath he hadn't known he was holding as he finished up the isochronon. Opening the face, he used the crown to select the date and coordinates he wanted to jump to in order to test the device. Claude changed his clothes to something more era appropriate and grabbed his flat cap off the hanger he left it sitting on. “Well, no time like the present,” he muttered before activating the watch and disappearing from the workshop. Kitty Hawk, North Carolina December 17, 1903 “I see congratulations are in order.” Came a voice from behind him. Claude looked over his shoulder at his mentor and smiled. “Heya boss man. Got about a couple of minutes before the magic happens if you want to grab a seat.” Claude indicated the gathering of people down below with a nod in their direction. “Certainly.” The older man said and sat down next to Claude in the oddly named Kill Devil Hills waiting for history to unfold in front of them. “Interesting venue.” The veteran time traveler noted to his student, who was watching the scene below intently. “The way I figure it, everythin' starts with first steps. Doesn't matter how unsteady or unsure they are. These twelve seconds of small steps here paved the way for mankind to reach the stars with one giant leap.” Claude held out his isochronon for the Doctor to inspect. “This is one of those first steps. Let's see how far it can take me.”
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