Description: While getting repairs, Moondyne Mouse runs into fellow NESTS Agent within Sunshine, Upsilon. Mission statements are affirmed and new purposes are given. Also, design and style is questioned.
Among the multitude of abandoned factories of the rusted graveyard of American Industry is a non-interesting husk of a building whose smokestacks have long run still. But within that building, through run down hallways and in the heart of what was at one time a factory floor, the old has long been replaced by the new. Clean and pristine white walls, white floors, white lights that hum with fluorescent energy. Men and women in sharp clothing observe data flowing from all around. A West Coast hub for NESTS activity. By far not the largest or most important, but it's a place to conduct local operations from. A place well overlooked, and a place to store data as one of many many backups for the worldwide network of secretive scientific masterminds.
Among them is a field agent, one of several in operation around the world. In a long white coat that covers a black bodysuit, he observes a number of silent scientists that read over the gathered data on the physicality of one Bob Richards. "This information better be useful. The fat man was tiresome," grouses agent Upsilon, still nursing wounds though mostly emotional at this point.
He is still followed by drones keyed in on his position, even in the facility itself. They hover quietly around him, much like their cousins currently filming the King of Fighters tournament the world over. He is watching what they see through tiny images on his smart glasses.
As he leaves the epicenter of data collection, Upsilon heads along the hallways to find a breakroom. Work is work, after all, and he finds himself with a moment to get a drink and to look up the incoming news from around the world. Hopefully, the superiors at NESTS will get back to him on the next target for data collection. He is feeling particularly punchy lately.
Moondyne Mouse had been... quite hurt after their latest investigation--which while not necessarily botched, but she found she couldn't handle the opposition either. She had managed to get herself clear and to the nearest NESTS facility, which happened to be the one Upsilon was in now. The horrible wound to their stomach had already been repaired, thanks to the aid of several technicians as well as her own efforts. It helped to know where all the parts of you needed to go, after all.
"Mmm... actuators okay, power distribution okay... motivators okay..." Moondyne sat in a rather large over-stuffed chair that was of a rosy pink color and clearly didn't belong there--it quickly winked out of existence and disappeared after she hopped down from it. Despite the chair being normal sized for a human, the rather short and petite mouse-bot looked dwarfed by it, thanks to her size.
"Well hello there, tall dark and metallic, I don't think we've met," she grinned, biting her lower lip with her buck mouse-like teeth.
This was a thing. The garish chair, the size and shape of it, obstructive and visually noisy. It offended Upsilon. And the color reminded him of a woman he knows. He has to look down his nose at it to tolerate its very presence. And with it, the short girl that leaps from it.
He blinks, for a moment caught off guard by the sudden disappearance of the chair. He taps at the bow of his glasses to check for visual failure, but no, nothing failed. So his attention goes to the girl, IDing her as best he can, but finding little to go off of in genuine understanding. He just sort of inclines his head as he takes in the short woman.
"What. . .are you?" he asks with a narrow eyed look of judgmental distaste.
"I'm Moondyne Mouse, one of Dr. Leblanc and Dr. Mehta's children, a bonjour to you too," she winked up at the man, before walking around him. "This is a NESTS facility after all, are you surprised to see someone like me here?" she leaned a bit closer to him, raising herself up on the tip-toes of her sneaker boots, peering at him.
"Mostly cybernetic, still incorporates some biological tissue, uh-huh--" she muttered to herself. "I myself am purely synthetic, I guess you'd call me a 'robot', but I'm also a mouse," she grinned again, her long multi-tool tipped tail flicking about behind her.
"I specialize in intelligence, repair and acquisition, in my unit, when necessary," she buffs her long fingernails against the belly of her undersuit.
"Yes," the man states rather bluntly. "Your design is," he hesitates, he isn't certain who exactly those doctors are but he has a good deal of questions regarding their choices. "Not expected. Are you supposed to be out in public like that?"
He leans back from Moondyne as she grows closer, her mutterings meaningless to him. He doesn't really know what she's talking about. "I can see that you are a mouse. I do not see the why you are a mouse," he reaffirms.
But with enough time comes composure and he simply steps back from Moondyne to rest his arms behind his back. "You may refer to me as Upsilon," he tells her. "So you are a tool then?" He scrutinizes the robot with cold dispassion. "Do your optics, they record?" he questions, his turn to lean slightly toward her. The drone flitting about the man mimics his position.
"I possess a solid-light hologram generator, I can look like whatever I want to," Moondyne waggles a finger. "And what, are one of the technicians going to complain to Krizalid why there's a 5-foot mouse lady walking around? Maybe they can start asking about all the leprechauns running around next," she teased, sliding back a bit to give Upsilon more space.
"Why? why not?" Moondyne tilts her head. "Mmm, I suppose you could say that, if you expect your can-opener to criticize your appearance or life choices," she grins. "They can, why?" she peers back at him, rocking back on the heels of her shoes.
"And so this is what you choose?" Upsilon asks, trying to figure out just the basis for this mouse robot girl thing. What sort of mind drove to create this. He feels he knows, and he feels that that is a side-effect of the strange minds that sometimes drift into genius.
"Are you familiar with the King of Fighters tournament currently happening?" he asks, getting to his point, starting to lean in, to circle, pushing into Moondyne's space as he tries to figure out a purpose for this tool in front of him.
"Was made like this... what, you don't think it's cute?" Moondyne raised a brow, as if just ever so slightly surprised. "Mice are servants of Ganesha, remover of obstacles, we represent the surmounting of any barrier--which suits me just fine," she grinned again, this time a small pair of metal bits popping out of her tail tip, which made a loud electrical SNAP as electricity briefly danced between them.
"I am, what about it?" she asked, now looking Upsilon up and down after they pressed even closer to her. "Was there someone from it you wanted to meet... or maybe data on them I could uncover for you?" she looked up, raising a brow.
"It's uncanny," Upsilon admits, adjusting his glasses and leaning back up to a proper posture. "And that is mythology, also it is regular mice, not looking like a girl in a costume." Judging as he is, he isn't pressing matters, just thinking while palming his own face, the tip of his middle finger playing at the bridge of his glasses.
"There are several pools of data we need collection from," Upsilon states. "As well as continued observations on the failed subject known as K'." He drops his hand from his face, resting both hands behind his back in a loose grip. "It would behoove you to focus on the overall trend of the organization. Though, what was it again you were doing in this outpost?"
"I suppose that's a good idea, some old-fashioned data recovery service is a nice change of pace, due for some field upgrades anyway," Moondyne rotated some of the joins in her wrist while holding her bicep, making sure there was no clicking or stiffness there.
"I was getting repairs done, some Australian guy with a metal plate in his head cut my chest open--not an experience I'd recommend, that," Moondyne cringed, her tail flicking back down to around her legs. "So just K', anyone else?"
"The data in question is combat data for hitbit and other utility," Upsilon states. "You are able to fight, correct?" He asks, looking Moondyne over with consideration. "You are something more than just a walking camera of a questionable design?"
He looks at her distantly, coldly, to him she isn't really something of a person yet. She looks more like a strangely oversized action figure.
"I can /try/, but the poaching of data from other fighters and I'm due for some upgrades, like I said--after my last contact with an enemy I nearly didn't get away," Moondyne sighed a little, sheepishly. "That's why I said I thought this assignment might be a bit easier," she nodded.
"But I'll see what I can do, if you want me to look into this K person, is that alright?"
"You can be repaired," Upsilon says off hand. "It's of little matter so long as your data stream can be sent in." He waves that off-hand to push aside any concerns that Moondyne might have. He wasn't mechanical, he had parts not so easily replaced. As he pushes his glasses up his nose he gives the girl a denying shake of his head.
"K is not the primary target, I acquired a dataset from him already," he tells Moondyne. "You should be isolating members of the various KoF teams and testing them, take a unit if you must. Understand what their abilities are. Test their limits. See if, through your superiority, they have potential to be anything more than a series of mine-able data points for combots."
"Of course, but I don't like being offline, or damaged, or captured," Moondyne crossed her arms, tapping a foot a little. She clearly didn't appreciate Upsilon dismissing her situation like that. "That's a good idea, except a lot of these people already treat hitbit and such as kill on sight," Moondyne gestures. She hasn't even told anyone that her body contains such technology, either--as if she needed /more/ excuses for folks to try and kill her!
"I'll see what I can do, In the meantime..." Moondyne let her arms fall to her side, trotting around Upsilon. "For right now, I'm going to make myself scarce before the Black Dragons decide to start combing the streets for me--toodles, mon cherie~"
Upsilon frowns. This one was troublesome. How could NESTS of all organizations be so lax here and there to allow failures like K' and other ungrateful upstarts their freedoms, while also promoting tools that spoke back? It was his burden to bare, of course, and with a sigh he relents to the mouse's objection. "If you say so. But whatever you do, just be of some use," he says with a quiet, barely hidden disdain.
As she trots off, he crosses his arms and once more adjusts his glasses. He hums to himself, watching her leave. It's not until she's gone that he turns away and asks himself a quiet question, "Black Dragon?"
Log created on 02:24:59 08/22/2019 by Upsilon, and last modified on 13:23:47 08/22/2019.