![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Writing again!!!!!
*dances* I managed to write someting!!! Three pages, and not needing to be torn out from Limbo word by word! TAKE THAT, WRITER'S BLOCK!!
......somehow, the Muses decided that I needed to write a prologue to a roleplay between me and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
girl_starfish. From Wufei's point of view. Which is weird since I'm playing Heero.
I am toying with the idea of rewriting this RP into a fanfic, but I don't know... I think I'll need Louise to rewrite and help me out a little ^_^ *hint hint*
And yes, this RP evolves into Strawberries later. ^^; (AKA 1x5 pairing ^____^) I'm becoming alarmingly fond of that weird pairing, which is weird since I'm still a 1x2x1 fangirl at heart.
Cyborg
Wufei had walked through the arena before arriving to the high security stalls. He had seen the --extensive-- damage.
He couldn't believe what lay under his eyes was the cause of all that.
Even though he had heard a lot about that particular combat doll, and knew beforehand that it was probably the shortest doll ever to enter an arena, he still had not expected it to be so... slim. He had expected more of a dwarf model, to be frank, something short but stocky and extensively muscled. Compared to the heavy bodybuilder types and the huge, deformed monsters that were the most common combat models, its chiseled features and perfect balance between lithe grace and trim muscles were... shocking.
When he thought about it, it was not so small, probably the same size as himself, which was medium sized for a human. But the rather loose limits on weight and height on combat dolls and the demand for spectacular from the public made imposing models popular.
Imposing, this one wasn't. In fact Wufei had heard rumors that Lowe had taken the specs and esthetical particularities from a generic pleasure doll. And now that he had it under his eyes, he could see why. It was...
Well, it would have looked exactly human, except that it was just too damn perfect. One could think it was almost pretty, except that it didn't look like a girl at all. It was very masculine, very... beautiful.
Wufei snorted. He could understand why it had gotten a following with the wives of some of his colleagues. It looked like something that they could expect in their beds, except that it actually was dangerous. That, contrary to a pleasure doll, it possessed a combat mode, and weapons. That it could kill... even though no dolls were ever made without the command "Thou Shall Not Kill Humans" in their primary directives. Many females liked the taste of false danger.
Except that this one doll presented a danger that was way more real than people had expected. Doll fights were supposed to be a safe way for humans to exorcise their most base instincts. Like the Games in Rome, except that no human was truly injured.
...Except when a doll went berserk, which was something that had not happened in forty years at least, since the standardization of the safety guidelines.
Wufei shook his head and laid his hand on the print scan at the entry of the stall. The reinforced glass door slid open; the doll stayed unmoving, its eyes closed, its face inexpressive. He had sent orders to leave it turned off for now as long as he had not looked over its software to see where the glitch in programming had come from.
He looked it over. It wasn't in good shape, to be frank, but all the damage was in nonessential parts. It would be repaired easily. The memory and power blocks were still nestled in their protective shell, and most of the damage had only melted and twisted the metal casing under the synthetic flesh. One of the arms would have to be replaced, but that was doable. This doll was a prototype and as such had no manufacturer to ask for replacement parts, that was true, but he had not become a renowned combat doll trainer by using generic brands of dolls. He would draw the specs of the new arm himself, that would be good enough.
He lifted a hand and brushed it against the edge of one of the holes in the blue bodysuit that was molded to the doll's body from neck to mid-thigh. In some places, it was molded quite literally, the heat from the security lasers having melted the suit's material with the skin. It left burned patches of syntheskin appear through the suit, along with the dull gleam of Gundanium under the false flesh.
He'd have to replace the bodysuit. It was irreparably lost. And a lot of the skin would come off with it, damn those lasers. But he liked the look of it, the simplicity. Blue was Lowe's color, though. Wufei's dolls had always fought clad in black.
The trainer looked the deactivated doll up and down, trying to get a mental picture of what the doll would look like awake and in a fighting stance. Oh, yes. A slim, black-clad boy facing one of those big armored combat behemoths. People would never think it was a threat. But Wufei had seen the doll's specs. Its whole combat style was based on exploiting the very fact that it was smaller and thinner than its enemies. What looked like a weakness was in fact its bigger trump card, for a whole lot of reasons, one being that the other dolls wouldn't be programmed to fight such a small doll and would have troubles adjusting, and another that while this dolls muscles didn't look big, it didn't prevent them from packing as much power as the authorized limit was. True, it didn't have much weight to throw behind the sheer puissance, but it had speed... and blades. Wufei already was having ideas on how to add to its repertoire and expand it, for when its enemies would wizen up.
He took hold of a hand, flexed the finger to observe the play of the metal claws. It was dulled, and shouldn't have come out at all under external pressure. He'd have to replace it. But still, the design was very good, he would keep it. Odin Lowe was a lot of bad things, but as far as building went, he wasn't one to dismiss. The man had flashes of insight that bordered on visionary.
Of course, some other of his flashes of insight bordered more on foolish. That doll of his was practically sentient as it was. He had argued that it reduced its reaction time drastically. The relation speed/force of the doll dropped low enough that way that it made it worth sending against its heavier brethren, when commanding it more closely like the normal, half-autonomous-only combat dolls would have slowed it down and thus lost the only big advantage it had.
That reasoning was sound... but it was also visible that as far as AI went, this one wasn't the most stable of the bunch. Wufei had a rather good opinion of Lowe's skills as a programmer, but a rather low one of his skills as teacher to a self-aware and self-developing doll. If the doll had been taught correctly, it would never have gone berserk, he was sure of it.
Anyway, Odin Lowe was ruined now. His reputation down the drain, his already small fortune gone into repairing the damages his doll had caused and into compensation for the injured technicians and spectators that had been hit when the small doll had ripped into its adversary, totaling it and sending shrapnel everywhere. He had been only too happy to sell the cursed doll to Wufei.
Wufei was happy to have it. He needed a challenge, and badly. Having won the World Tournament already once in his life with his doll, there wasn't much to do that would make him feel the thrill of beating the odds again. Making this unusual doll battle-worthy again would be a challenge indeed.
The black-haired man brushed his knuckles against the doll's upper arm, sweeping off the soot from the burned bodysuit. The serial number of the prototype appeared, black ink on flawless pale skin. 01-W-0. First, and now probably last, of his series. 01.
The spectators needed a better handle than numbers and letters though. "What is that name Lowe gave you?" he asked the deactivated doll, brushing its fringe away from its closed eyes. The black lashes brushing its chiseled cheeks were long and thick enough to give away its non-humanity right away. No one real had lashes like that naturally. He wondered which color Lowe had given its irises, briefly, then dismissed it as unimportant.
"Oh, I remember now. Ichiro. Heero."
He stepped out of the holding stall, calling for the technicians to wrap it up and deliver it to his workshop; he had other, more important things to take care of now.
-----
And if we make this into a fic, I will need a title. *sighs* Ideas, anyone?
......somehow, the Muses decided that I needed to write a prologue to a roleplay between me and
girl_starfish. From Wufei's point of view. Which is weird since I'm playing Heero. I am toying with the idea of rewriting this RP into a fanfic, but I don't know... I think I'll need Louise to rewrite and help me out a little ^_^ *hint hint*
And yes, this RP evolves into Strawberries later. ^^; (AKA 1x5 pairing ^____^) I'm becoming alarmingly fond of that weird pairing, which is weird since I'm still a 1x2x1 fangirl at heart.
Cyborg
Wufei had walked through the arena before arriving to the high security stalls. He had seen the --extensive-- damage.
He couldn't believe what lay under his eyes was the cause of all that.
Even though he had heard a lot about that particular combat doll, and knew beforehand that it was probably the shortest doll ever to enter an arena, he still had not expected it to be so... slim. He had expected more of a dwarf model, to be frank, something short but stocky and extensively muscled. Compared to the heavy bodybuilder types and the huge, deformed monsters that were the most common combat models, its chiseled features and perfect balance between lithe grace and trim muscles were... shocking.
When he thought about it, it was not so small, probably the same size as himself, which was medium sized for a human. But the rather loose limits on weight and height on combat dolls and the demand for spectacular from the public made imposing models popular.
Imposing, this one wasn't. In fact Wufei had heard rumors that Lowe had taken the specs and esthetical particularities from a generic pleasure doll. And now that he had it under his eyes, he could see why. It was...
Well, it would have looked exactly human, except that it was just too damn perfect. One could think it was almost pretty, except that it didn't look like a girl at all. It was very masculine, very... beautiful.
Wufei snorted. He could understand why it had gotten a following with the wives of some of his colleagues. It looked like something that they could expect in their beds, except that it actually was dangerous. That, contrary to a pleasure doll, it possessed a combat mode, and weapons. That it could kill... even though no dolls were ever made without the command "Thou Shall Not Kill Humans" in their primary directives. Many females liked the taste of false danger.
Except that this one doll presented a danger that was way more real than people had expected. Doll fights were supposed to be a safe way for humans to exorcise their most base instincts. Like the Games in Rome, except that no human was truly injured.
...Except when a doll went berserk, which was something that had not happened in forty years at least, since the standardization of the safety guidelines.
Wufei shook his head and laid his hand on the print scan at the entry of the stall. The reinforced glass door slid open; the doll stayed unmoving, its eyes closed, its face inexpressive. He had sent orders to leave it turned off for now as long as he had not looked over its software to see where the glitch in programming had come from.
He looked it over. It wasn't in good shape, to be frank, but all the damage was in nonessential parts. It would be repaired easily. The memory and power blocks were still nestled in their protective shell, and most of the damage had only melted and twisted the metal casing under the synthetic flesh. One of the arms would have to be replaced, but that was doable. This doll was a prototype and as such had no manufacturer to ask for replacement parts, that was true, but he had not become a renowned combat doll trainer by using generic brands of dolls. He would draw the specs of the new arm himself, that would be good enough.
He lifted a hand and brushed it against the edge of one of the holes in the blue bodysuit that was molded to the doll's body from neck to mid-thigh. In some places, it was molded quite literally, the heat from the security lasers having melted the suit's material with the skin. It left burned patches of syntheskin appear through the suit, along with the dull gleam of Gundanium under the false flesh.
He'd have to replace the bodysuit. It was irreparably lost. And a lot of the skin would come off with it, damn those lasers. But he liked the look of it, the simplicity. Blue was Lowe's color, though. Wufei's dolls had always fought clad in black.
The trainer looked the deactivated doll up and down, trying to get a mental picture of what the doll would look like awake and in a fighting stance. Oh, yes. A slim, black-clad boy facing one of those big armored combat behemoths. People would never think it was a threat. But Wufei had seen the doll's specs. Its whole combat style was based on exploiting the very fact that it was smaller and thinner than its enemies. What looked like a weakness was in fact its bigger trump card, for a whole lot of reasons, one being that the other dolls wouldn't be programmed to fight such a small doll and would have troubles adjusting, and another that while this dolls muscles didn't look big, it didn't prevent them from packing as much power as the authorized limit was. True, it didn't have much weight to throw behind the sheer puissance, but it had speed... and blades. Wufei already was having ideas on how to add to its repertoire and expand it, for when its enemies would wizen up.
He took hold of a hand, flexed the finger to observe the play of the metal claws. It was dulled, and shouldn't have come out at all under external pressure. He'd have to replace it. But still, the design was very good, he would keep it. Odin Lowe was a lot of bad things, but as far as building went, he wasn't one to dismiss. The man had flashes of insight that bordered on visionary.
Of course, some other of his flashes of insight bordered more on foolish. That doll of his was practically sentient as it was. He had argued that it reduced its reaction time drastically. The relation speed/force of the doll dropped low enough that way that it made it worth sending against its heavier brethren, when commanding it more closely like the normal, half-autonomous-only combat dolls would have slowed it down and thus lost the only big advantage it had.
That reasoning was sound... but it was also visible that as far as AI went, this one wasn't the most stable of the bunch. Wufei had a rather good opinion of Lowe's skills as a programmer, but a rather low one of his skills as teacher to a self-aware and self-developing doll. If the doll had been taught correctly, it would never have gone berserk, he was sure of it.
Anyway, Odin Lowe was ruined now. His reputation down the drain, his already small fortune gone into repairing the damages his doll had caused and into compensation for the injured technicians and spectators that had been hit when the small doll had ripped into its adversary, totaling it and sending shrapnel everywhere. He had been only too happy to sell the cursed doll to Wufei.
Wufei was happy to have it. He needed a challenge, and badly. Having won the World Tournament already once in his life with his doll, there wasn't much to do that would make him feel the thrill of beating the odds again. Making this unusual doll battle-worthy again would be a challenge indeed.
The black-haired man brushed his knuckles against the doll's upper arm, sweeping off the soot from the burned bodysuit. The serial number of the prototype appeared, black ink on flawless pale skin. 01-W-0. First, and now probably last, of his series. 01.
The spectators needed a better handle than numbers and letters though. "What is that name Lowe gave you?" he asked the deactivated doll, brushing its fringe away from its closed eyes. The black lashes brushing its chiseled cheeks were long and thick enough to give away its non-humanity right away. No one real had lashes like that naturally. He wondered which color Lowe had given its irises, briefly, then dismissed it as unimportant.
"Oh, I remember now. Ichiro. Heero."
He stepped out of the holding stall, calling for the technicians to wrap it up and deliver it to his workshop; he had other, more important things to take care of now.
-----
And if we make this into a fic, I will need a title. *sighs* Ideas, anyone?
no subject