Semi-Autogyro
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Claude had snuck in as they had closed the doors, hovering in the back during the discussion. Over time, he had taken a seat but was still oddly quiet. "Yeah, I uh, have a question." Claude piped up from the back row. "And, if you don't wanna answer it, that's fine." Totally absent was his normal wiseacre demeanor with his eyes firmly locked on Serena. "Were you ever able to forgive yourself?" He asked, his normally omnipresent Southie drawl gone completely.
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Nick didn't have to wait long, as less than a minute later (thanks to the helpful clock sound) the oddly familiar smells of food hit his nose. Claude popped back in a few moments later, rocking an apron and sporting a light tan that he didn't have before. "Foods ready. I figured you might be a bit homesick so I tried to make stuff from your neck of the woods." He indicated for Nick to follow him, winding their way through the foyer, the dining room, and then to a table in the breakfast nook of the kitchen. There was a five course meal waiting for them, with dishes that were achingly familiar to Nick: german potato salad, coleslaw, fried okra, scratch made biscuits, kielbasa with steamed broccoli, and an apple pie that was still steaming on the cooling rack. "I already took Doc his portion, he'll come down a bit later. Only needs to be here for the last half of what I gotta tell you anyways, since it concerns him too." "Well, go ahead and dig in, if you got any pressing questions i'll do my best to answer 'em during chow." The Bostonian handed a plate to Nick and then shooed off a scrawny cat named Borous that was eyeballing the pie before taking a plate himself and digging in.
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Claude's response was dismissive. "Tch. Your loss, Sunshine." he said derisively before turning his attention to Benny. Who he shot a calculated look at before talking. "Nah, I ain't going to do anything, man. It's just that me and Grimace the Menace don't see eye to eye. Personality wise and historically speakin', that is. Nicky boy over there wanted me to make nice and work together in case the yahoos over there make the next black plague or something." Claude shrugged. "Didn't take, but eh, results weren't that important. Willing to offer the branch was. Anyways, speakin' of trying, wanna join our group?" He indicated Micah, Mia, and Nick. "No skin off my nose if you don't, though." Claude ended the conversation by returning to the aforementioned group and shooting a lazy salute at the headmistress as he sauntered by.
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Claude turned back to the board and wrote 'PEM Fuel Cell + BLDC Motor' before capping the dry-erase marker and setting it in the tray. It was a potential way to go on the project, for the M&Ms to help their friend Danica. If they didn't wind up using it, no skin off his nose. Claude then ambled over to where Nick and the sisters were. "So, lemme put this on the table before any posturin' starts," he said posture neutral, with hands in his hoodies' pockets. "I'm willing ta work together, but if you pull the same fake outrage crap that you did on movin' day then my boy Nick here and I are gone. I don't appreciate bein' gaslit and don't care for whatever reason you feel the need to play passive aggressive mind games with people. Just work with me straight and we're copacetic. Water under the bridge." Taking his right hand out of his pocket, he held it out to Ashley. "If that works for the both you, I'll shake on it and we can stop beatin' around the bush and we all can keep an eye on the stooges over there."
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Claude shuffled the cards he had back into his pocket, looking nonplussed again. "Yeah, I met a former student named Serena about a week or so ago that told me about the succubi thing. She didn't mention Bad Santa, though." He shrugged. "But if he's comin' round again you could make a trap for him ahead of time. Doesn't sound like he's the sharpest crayon in the box." He leaned against the side of the roof with his hands in his pockets. "Eh most of the local back hats on the tech scene don't typically mess with Xenobiology, so that would be a decent place to start lookin'." He told Davyd. "Mostly it tends to be the typical gadget or power armor measurin' contests with the hero types, from what I've seen." He paused and turned his attention to Ben. "Just sayin this, Inky, but I'd be careful spoutin' off about your radiatin' ichor. Some people get twitchy hearin' that word."
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The pair weren't alone on the porch as blonde and white tabby cat was lazing in the sun on a nearby porch swing. The feline in question mewled a greeting when it noticed Claude then immediately became wary on spotting Nick. "Heya, Arcade." Claude called out to the cat before talking to Nick. "Don't mind him. He's wary around strangers." the Bostonian explained. "On that note. There are some other cats here, but trust me on this: don't follow them if they go into a different room. Tell me or the Doc immediately if you see a black cat. That's Mobius and it's a right frickin' pain if he shows up." Claude however didn't bother explaining anything that he just said and took hold of the door handle and turned it. Nick could hear the thrum of exotic energy begin to emanate from the device that Claude always had on his person or closely nearby. Moments later there was another spike of similar, yet distinctly different (to his senses anyways) that came from the house itself. Narrowing down on the source, his hearing drew his attention to the lintel of the Morgan House's doors where the motto of the eponymous family was displayed in flowing Latin script: Omnes æquales sola virtute discrepantes. A feeling of clarity washed over him akin to getting dropped in a pool, like those fleeting moments of hyper-awareness when ones' adrenaline began pumping. Before he could get any deeper, Arcade went zipping through Nicks' legs to disappear into the house. "Yeah, he does that." Claude noted at the furry distraction as he held the door open for Nick. "Go on in and take a load off. The sittin' room is to your right. I gotta go tell the boss man that we're here and then get lunch started." Claude had taken his hat off as he went inside, tossing it on a nearby coat hook. He made sure Nick got to the room in question before leaving his roomate to his own devices and the sound of a grandfather clock ticking away from somewhere else in the house.
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Claude took off his goggles, making sure to pull them over the flatcap he was currently sporting before engaging the kickstand on his scooter. He was dressed in what Nick would find out to be his preferred attire: heavy duty boots, workmans' pants, and t-shirt of some stripe that was usually paired with suspenders. Claude waited for Nick to dismount before doing the same and then opened up the underseat storage and tossing his goggles inside. "Sorry 'bout havin' ta use my scooter. I didn't want to mess with the buses or payin' for a rideshare." He apologized to his roommate as he signed for Nick to hang the helmet he was wearing on the handlebars. "The bossman has a thing for bein' timely." A trace of amusement was audible to Nick on the last statement, like a private joke he didn't know the punchline for. Everything else aside, the place was a bit off to Nicks' enhanced senses. Particularly noticeable to him was the grass and landscaping that seemed to be slightly out of sync with the current light wind blowing in from the Bay. "Anyways, thanks for comin'. I know 'I got somethin' important to show and tell ya, but I can't do it on campus' seems pretty sketch. At least it would be if I was in your shoes." If anything, Claude seemed to be nervously anxious, a far cry from his normally sarcastic wiseacre personality. "Still, you do get lunch outta the deal and get to meet the Doc, so ya have that goin' for ya at least." Claude then jacked a thumb over his shoulder pointing at the doors. "Well, times a wastin'." the Boston boy said before heading towards the front doors.
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Lantern Hill, the Morgan House Corner of Newton & Salem Noon, August 31st, 2019 Weather: Partly Cloudy, 80 °F, Wind ENE 8 mph The historic Morgan House stands out from the normal colonial and victorian era architecture prevalent in the Lantern Hill district as a testament to the American Craftsman style. On June 30th, 1908 the original colonial structure was blown apart by an explosion and the Morgan Family ultimately chose to build a new house rather than try to replicate the old property. The cause of the explosion still to this day has never been fully explained, with the current owner Thomas Morgan saying that his grandfather told his father it was 'probably something he was working on in the basement'. The Morgan family has always been known as innovators of some stripe with the majority of their wealth coming from a variety of small patents and shrewd investments. Still, being one of the old families of Freedom City has caused no amounts of rumors to exist about both the house and the family that resides in it. While the Morgan House is on the national historic location list, it is still a private property and entry is only allowed for friends of the family or approved guests. However, the current owner occasionally hold exclusive philanthropic parties at the location and has recently worked with the Freedom City Historical Society to make a personally narrated virtual walkthrough of the house available at the Clark House. Today however, the fact of the gate to the property swinging open to admit a pair of teenagers on a scooter would have caused some on the historical society to weep bitter tears of jealousy as they putted quietly onto the property and parked near the detached garage.
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Claude looked away from his current discussion with Micah & Mia at the commotion coming from Inky & Jenkins. 'Oh sure, give the class clownfish a frickin' blank cheque for mayhem, why don't you.' He mentally groused before looking at Valeria with a raised eyebrow while nodding in the dingbat duos' direction, wondering if she was going to do something about the situation before it got further out of hand. The Bostonian returned his attention back to Micah, catching roughly the back half of his suggestions. "Huh. Lessee." Claude paused to stare at the whiteboard for a few seconds. "We could do somethin' like a pair of Heelys' but provide impulse to the - Yeah, Nick?" he stopped as Nick popped up beside him and showed him his tablet. Those that were looking at Claude as he read the message would have seen the normally laid back teen go very still and shoot a calculating glance at the cube before scowling and passing the tablet back to Nick. "You know the rules," he signed emphatically before staring up at the ceiling and sighing. Micah and Nick could pick up a muttered "freakin' puppy dog eyes" under Claudes' breath as he looked back at his roomate. "I'll keep an eye on it and step in if it looks to be gettin' too crazy. That work?" He signed at Nick.
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Claude nodded as he listened. "I gotcha. Remind me to show ya my ride when I get a chance, it's a restored Lambretta DL scooter that I rescued from the scrapheap. But for now, just gimme a few to think about what we can do for this project." Claude closed his eyes and began the mental motions for accessing the repository for the information needed to create a device that Micah had described. A few heartbeats later, Claude opened his eyes and focused on the problem at hand with newfound knowledge. "Lemme pitch some things by ya," he told Micah and Mia as he stood and moved to a nearby whiteboard. Twirling a marker as he picked it up, he began writing on the board. The Bostonian boy continued to write as he answered Mias' question. "Yeah, I'd check your BIOS or any other temperature or fan controllin' software. Next would be making sure all your connectors are properly seated. Could also be a CPU/GPU overclockin' thing that's messin' with your internal temps so it kicks the fan on randomly." Claude finished up what he was writing, as he capped the marker and began idly gesturing at first drawing on the board with it. "One, self-balancin' skates like ya suggested. Problem is is they'd probably be a bit fiddly with lotsa movin parts if ya needed to repair 'em." "Two, hover boots. Same problem with added fun of falling from a lot further up." He tapped the second picture. "Three, frictionless boots. Let her provide her own impulse but she could get up to speed faster as it were. Just not incline friendly. But she'd probably beat everyone else on a downhill." He gave a grin at the pair. "But any of these are pretty doable. Any more ideas you wanna throw out there?"
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Claudes' willing to work with anybody, but it looks Mia, Micah, and Nick in the group at the moment.
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"Sure thing, Inky." Claude responded to Ben and the others as he slowed down his cardistry tricks and showed how he was manipulating the cards, all while listening to the conversation. He was more than amused that pretty boy proposal was named Leroy, which pretty much instantly made Claude permanently mentally assign the moniker of 'Jenkins' to the alien prince. "Trust me Sparky, it takes quite a bit to break my weirdness status quo. Unless there's somethin' like a secret sex dungeon ran by the headmistress here, it ain't likely to be more than a tiny blip on my radar." Claude snarked in response to Pans' question and pixie sparkles. "Pencak silat," Claude said the name in Indonesian before returning to English, "Is a full body strikin' martial art. Anythin' goes, you name it. Strikes, kicks, locks, grapples, throws, and weapons. There's a ton of styles that can be called Silat, but it's generally stuff that's useful in a real fight and none of that kayfabe stuff you see on screen." Claude scoffed a little. "Those were just examples, even though it's not like grease monkey skills are any different. I can rebuild a transmission as easily as I can blueprint and construct an aerospike engine." The Bostonian remained quiet as their conversation was interrupted by a valkyrie descending from the heavens which caused Micah to become more maudlin, for whatever reason. He had shifted the cards around in a complex looking shuffle when Davyd showed off his party trick. Claude had to admit, it was a pretty damn good trick. Enough to wrest both a panicked "Ah, jeez!" from the Beantown boys mouth and sending the entirely of the cards that were in his hands flying as he flailed his arms in surprise. "And that one, Benji, is known as the 52 pickup shuffle." He sighed as he began collecting the cards. "Couldya warn a guy next time there, jumpscare?"
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Claude seemed to be be enjoying the ruckus, judging by the smirk plastered across his face at the chaos. It only widened when he watched a girl literally headdesk. Noticing Nick out of the corner of his eye signing at him, Claude simply shrugged with a 'why not' gesture and then followed it with giving Nick a thumbs up. Personally, he could work with anyone. Even little miss anger issues and her slightly ditzy but nice sister. Back when he was wearing the black hat he had worked with criminals that laughed at going to Blackgate, like it was a day spa. So pretty much barring her or anyone else pulling a piece or the like on him, he'd be willing to play ball. Still, he was interested in desk girl. Probably get a few good laughs working with her judging by her over reaction to everything. So when Nick pointed her in his direction he gave a lazy salute/wave at her. Now Claude did not oppose roping Micah into their little group, since people like him were good at keeping others on task. He was good people, since he certainly had more patience than Claude did when dealing with bishounen Leeroy Jenkins over there. "Ey Micah, looks like Nick wants to work wit' you and headdesk girlie over there. Whaddya thinkin' of wantin' to build?"
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Claude snorted when Inky wandered in and started signing in Nicks' direction. He rolled his eyes and signed back: 'Yeah pair the mute kid up with somebody who can't sign your hovercraft is full of eels.' Claude raised a fist for Micah to bump as he passed by to sit near Nick and himself. "How you doin', pally?' "Ooooh, better watch it there Brooklyn. She might go after your lunch money too." Claude cracked. "Next thing you know you might want to 'watch where you are going', and it 'would be a shame if somethin' happened'. "There, useless posturin' over. Can we get back to the point why we're all here?" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry Teach." Claude apologized to Valeria. Claude turned to Nick and started signing, intent on keeping the conversation private except for Ben who he didn't mind looking in. "I was thinking some sort of white noise headphones for you. Maybe even a acoustic nullifier, at least let you get to sleep easier", he signed in ASL to his roomie.
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Claude grinned at Pans' answer, not missing the wink to Micah. "Well I'd imagine they'd be helpful to have around with imaginary..." He was cut of mid sentence as two more guys showed up. He shook Davyds' hand and gave the other a fist bump to a tentacle. "Claude. 'Sup." The Bostonian glanced upward at the cloud and then smirked the antics of the Brooklyn Octopod and Pan, inwardly he was grateful to Selena had told him that the first day was usually unofficial power flexing day. So he had come prepared for Pans' exact question. "Sorry, I ain't as flash as you guys." Claude drolly replied as he reached into one of his pockets and drew out...a deck of cards? Claude did a bit of up close magic for them as he talked purposefully staring straight at Ben. "Ever hear of Robert Heinlen? 'A human bein' should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a buildin', write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wahl, set a bone, comfort the dyin', take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly.' That's me. I can know or learn pretty much anythin'. Usually they call it polymath or savant, but I prefer Renaissance Man."
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Gnomon Park Time Job - 4 Posts It's Mov(in)g Day! - 10 Posts Tech Compliance (Open) - 1 Post 4 + 10 + 1 = 15 Posts
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Looking up when the door opened Claude took off the pair of headphones he had on, music still pumping out of them loud enough to hear before he turned off the device. He was looking forward to tinkering again hopefully not getting sidetracked, since the last time he held a soldering gun he had to drop what he was doing to be shot at with cannons by Barbary corsairs half an hour later. 'Stupid freakin' future tourists', Claude groused internally. Part of him was curious too, what a joint like Claremont made available to its students. Back when he was Kitbash, he had distinctly subpar tools most of the time. 'Still was able to make a heat ray out of the that one toaster, though. Too bad it melted afterwards and made everything smell like grilled cheese.' The Bostonian remembered fondly as he entered the room, only to stop when he saw Ashley. 'Great, just what I freakin' needed today. Angry grrl.' Still he was one to never back down so he soldiered on, plonking himself down in the seat farthest from her and closest to the exit. "How you doin." he said to the teach, slouching down into the remarkably comfy chair.
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Claude shook the offered hand from Micah when then the other teen grabbed his other hand and shook it with lot of enthusiasm. Then the words uttered by the manic pixie dream boy hit home. The only thought in his dumbfounded mind was a 'What?!' before he mentally shoved the shock aside to address the pair a moment later. "Names' Claude. How you doin'?" Luckily Pans' introduction had bought him a few more moments of respite to parse his thoughts. 'Okay, so maybe a causal loop situation? How the hell did the Doc miss something like a fictional character bein' nonfictional? Gah, need to talk to him directly about this. Might as well bring along new roomie too. Save some explanations, at least.' While he was sorting out the temporal issue, Claude just sort of let his other idle thought at meeting Pan just shoot out of his mouth unfiltered. "Dat a nickname? 'Cause I'm wonderin' if your parents intentionally decided to name ya after kitchenware and you have a sister named Dish runnin' 'round here somewhere." Came Caludes' response in fullbore Southie accent along with an inquisitively quirked eyebrow behind his sunglasses.
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The song that Claude had been listening too finished so he decided might was well go explore the campus some more. Or look for some food. Either sounded fine. Claude had seen the e-mail that indicated the cafeteria would be open if the parents wanted to eat with their kids before they left. 'Eh, beats sittin' here staring at nothin' at least and I'll get a bead on if I should skip eatin' chow in this joint,' he thought to himself as he rose to his feet and took out his earbuds. Once he did so, Claude heard the last strains of one of the Man in Blacks' more famous songs. Well, cover. Cash did more than his fair share of those. Whoever playing wasn't bad, they sounded more like a serious hobbyist than professional but the emotion was there. That would mark another one of his future classmates that had been packing an axe of some form. In this case wooden. 'Maybe I'll ask around later on in the semester if anybody is interested in making a band,' the Bostonian idly mused as he walked towards the pair of students. Nicky boy back in the room had a decent electric from what he had seen. He caught the tail end of their conversation as the red haired boy was much more animated than his more morose counterpart with the acoustic in his hands. The subject was about Leroy and his ill advised earlier antics. 'Eesh, not touchin' that train wreck again,' Claude thought as he cleared his throat to get their attention."Yo," he drawled as he gave the pair a lazy wave in greeting before addressing the guitarist. "Just wanted to say that was a good unplugged cover of Riders ya just did."
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Claude actually blinked then scowled momentarily at Monas' question and then rubbed the back of his neck. "Aw yeah, I forgot you and Archie were a thing." The boy from Boston signed and with a mumbled 'why not' continued on. "Nothin' against you Mona, but I kinda was busted hijackin' a shipment of your boys tech. I'm for bygones being bygones and all, but I'm thinkin' it would be best if we kept this shindig on the down low. Besides, I don't think he'd appreciate my opinions." "Still, looks like my assignment at Claremont will be entertainin' at least." Claude took a bite of his wrap. Riverside Park The repeated death throes of the small insect would have been a nonissue, but something was drawn in from the delicious smorgasbord of sensory data leeching through the remaining anomalies. The Shrodingers' wasp was like ringing a proverbial dinner bell as it began looking for lone prey to ambush, widening an reinforcing an out of the way anomaly in one of the larger park trees...
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Yeah, an excuse to run around like an idiot and all the potential shenanigans sounds right up Gnomons' alley. Besides, if something does go wrong he can see if any of the professors ideas worked from Gilligans' Island.
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Claude sighed at Monas' and Selenas' responses. "Okay, so obviously the boss-man wants me to attend this...school for some reason. It ain't about the knowledge. Networkin'? Bit odd with the people I work for. Anyways, I appreciate the info." At the offer from Selena, the Bostonion proceeded to scoot his chair closer to the pair, with a positively Cheshire grin on his face. "Scuttlebutt? Deal me in. I'll trade you a story about how I got in a throw down with some overenthusiastic reenactors. They had a cannon and everythin'!" Before she could respond however, the waiter had came back with their food... Riverside Park Monica White was just finishing up her circuit of the park, happy that she had cut off almost half a minute from her normal time. The Freedom City marathon was just around the corner, and this year she had vowed to finish it. She was almost to the point where she started her run when she stumbled with the sound of metal crushing and nearly fell. Looking back, she saw a half crushed soda can and cursed. People threw their trash everywhere, she could have twisted her ankle! Angry she kicked the can away, not noticing the dead wasp that had been drinking from the can reanimating then dying again....
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Claudes' wandering of the dorm halls eventually led him up to the roof, where he was surprised to find it both: unlocked and tastefully decorated. Well, I suppose it makes sense here in FC. Plenty of fliers, so like usin' the front door for 'em. Still strange how many things in this joint are unsecured. The Bostonian moved over to the edge of the roof that faced the bay with the light breeze from the water ruffling his hair. Might as well take a load off, he thought and plunked himself down on the ledge and allowed his feet to dangle over the side. Hopefully Nick would calm down whenever he got back, as his roomies' mood was easy to read. More like an Atlantic City Casino marquee than a paperback, the teen thought. As it was obvious that the kid needed space. Best thing he could do right now was get lost for a hour or so. Plus, maybe he could get some further info from some other students about the enigma that was Little Miss Punchy and her kayfabe act. But for now Claude was content to enjoy the weather, putting a small set of earbuds in to listen to some tunes while he relaxed for a bit.
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Claude gave Nick some space as the poor kid looked a bit overwhelmed. His current expertise in the behavioral sciences pegging him as maybe even on the verge of a panic attack, sitting there strumming on his guitar. So Claude busied himself with keeping an eye on Nick as he began unpacking, which took a grand total of five minutes. He didn't own much, and the rest of his belongings were stored elsewhere and elsewhen. Mostly it consisted of sliding the his few class books into a bookcase along with pencils and other assorted writing paraphernalia, putting about two weeks worth of clothes into the dresser, and following it up with tossing his ditty bag into the bathroom counter. He checked back on Nick, who was sitting with his head cocked like he was listening to something or someone. He also seemed calmer now. 'Maybe talkin' to the redhead telepath', the Bostonian boy guessed before idly wondering if accents were retained in mental discourse. 'Eh, I'll ask her next time I see her', he thought while making a mental note to do so. After extracting his glove and a well used metal baseball bat and placing them on an unoccupied shelf, the only thing else left to do was put a set of pictures on his desk. One of Jules and Mom, another with him sitting on his dad's shoulders from a Sox game years ago, and one with a slightly graying Germanic man looking at the photo taker with an expression of fond exasperation. Huh, Nicky boy still was communing with the belle of the brain so Claude decided to wander the campus to get the lay of the land. Maybe even find more drama or another fight. Probably equal chances of both. Whenever he got back his new roomie would be finished with his chat, and it would be his turn for blowing the poor kids mind.
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Claude laughed and took a drink from his water. "Psitanium, Daka Crystals, Eridium, Gromril, definitely the Quintessence are probably the ones' pingin' your interest. I can tell you what's in it just fine, but how I'm using it and where they came from is the issue." the boy from Boston shrugged. "I was kinda in a pinch when I made it, so that's why it's sounds a bit made up of kitbashed parts." "As for your question Mona, no what I was lookin' at ain't dangerous. Just oddly concentrated compared to normal, but that was probably due to side effects from whatever fight damaged that bench. They might be an issue if the conditions were right and they were left alone, but after we finish up here I'll scour the park before gettin' my sisters' groceries done." His fingers drummed idly on the table. Claude scooted his chair forward and looked between the pair. "I do have a question for you ladies. I've been pretty much ordered to go to Claremont by my boss. What am I exactly looking at doing there?"
