Crash Test Dummy (Literally) >> Audio ;

[justamobster]

[ The post goes up on the network a few minutes after touchdown planetside. The speaker is quite obviously trying to catch his breath, and there’s an undercurrent of laughter in his voice— sharp with both disbelieving amusement and a bit of panic. ]

The er, emergency landin’ system on the ships, yeah? That?

S’workin’. Just thought folks’d wanna know.

[ GUESS WHO ALMOST JUST DIED? This guy!

For context and any in-person concerns, see Prompt #1 here! ]

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[mikoshi]

[ Vincent isn't puffing away just yet, because it'll be a cold day in hell before he picks up those disgusting e-cigarettes — strawberry-flavored nicotine? Fuck outta here. Instead, he worries a toothpick, keeping an eye on an analog clock. ] Good mornin', Sleeping Beauty. [ Light tease, no malice behind it. There's a sense in the air that this is old hat to him. ] Anyways, as I was sayin', g-LOC ain't no joke. 4 to 6 g is 'round the ballpark where the untrained go lights out. You're lucky half your ship in the sand and an impromptu nap is all you're dealing with.

[justamobster]

Ishkabibble t'you too.

[ He looks up, searching the other man's face for any sign that he noticed the cough full of smoke. Who knows, maybe that's normal where he's from. Like a damn cartoon character from the shorts they show before the flickers. ]

Not sure what "g" is, but if it ain't in miles-per-hour or comparable t'horses, it don't mean nothin' to this noggin. [ He points to his forehead. ] Whole "space travelin'" particulars're new t'me.

[mikoshi]

[ He's seen much more outlandish — people with multiple, piercing optics where eyes should be, walking and speaking around without throats, with the skin of crocodiles and made out of gold — that the smoke doesn't even register. ] Gravitational force equivalent. Earth is equivalent to 1 g. 4 to 6 g is 4 to 6 Earth's worth of gravity suddenly weighing on ya. Forces all the blood down your body, dryin' up your brain. So you faint — G-force induced loss of consciousness, or g-LOC.

Don't need space travel, just acceleration. [ Winks. ] I race cars.

[justamobster]

You got luggers that go that fast? [ That gets a low whistle. ] Don't think all the cops in Nieve'd catch that. Lemme know if you're up for a heist.

[ He shakes his head, gesturing toward the mess that he made out of his ship. ] M'obviously more of a stick-up or yegg, dependin'. Driver's not my forte.

[mikoshi]

Always up for a heist — long as what we're stealin' is worth it. [ He winks. ] My services ain't cheap.

Can get one of those robots to be your pilot, if you don't care to learn. But, just in case things go tits up — and chances are they will — you probably should learn. [ Isn't going to offer lessons, however. Presumptuous. ]

[justamobster]

If I find somethin' worth takin', I'll give you a call, yeah? [ Even when recovering from a crash landing, he's scheming and planning. Some habits die hard.

He sits up a little straighter now, finally getting more of his faculties back. It feels a bit like a hangover, minus the ridiculous amount of (literal) heartburn. His furnace is even starting to calm down, and he's able to cough without bringing up too much smoke. The eyeroll he gives the mention of those stupid little robots involves most of his wiry frame. ]

Yeah, right. Don't trust those fuckers far as I could chuck 'em. They ain't touchin' any more of what l'il I got here any more than abso-fuckin'-lutely necessary. No way, no how.

[ So basically, a substitute pilot is right out. Ladon's either going to have to tag along or learn. And considering he's done it once and didn't die... ]

Think I got a few more rough landings in me, yeah?

[mikoshi]

Sure thing. Lookin' forward to it.

[ That's fair. Vincent doesn't trust anyone but Delamain to drive him around. The AI earned it though. Jury's out on these little shits. Doesn't like how hard they try at being cute, unassuming. It might work with teenaged girls, but it won't work on him.

Unless one took up the form of Nibbles, his Sphynx cat. Then maybe... ]

Yeah, if you want to give yourself brain damage. [ Hypoxia's a bitch — he'd know, thanks to Johnny. ] Not good for your body to keep takin' that kind of shock either. [ Eyebrows raised. Take the hint — ask for help. From someone. Anyone. ]

[justamobster]

M'tougher than I look. [ Yeah, he's got some brass for saying that after being carried to the shade by a stranger, but it's honest. He's used to being underestimated thanks to this scrawny, soft human body. Sometimes it works to his advantage. But in all honesty, he's already starting to go over what happened, and what he can do better next time.

It's going to actively take willpower he might not have to keep from hopping back in the pilot seat and making another go of it as soon as his ship's dug out. But he's keeping that much to himself. ] But, yeah, sure. I'll find someone to gimme the what's what.

[ Maybe. ]

[mikoshi]

And I'm a brain and spinal cord inside a metal frame, wrapped in synthetic fibers. [ Said matter-of-factly, because it is. ] Means dick. Ain't 'bout endurance, just physics.

'Least go through some sims or somethin'.

[justamobster]

Are you? [ That doesn't sound like sarcasm, so color him intrigued. His eyes flick over V, as if seeing him again for the first time. ] Huh. Don't look much like a tin can, yeah?

[mikoshi]

[ Doesn't answer that with words. Instead, Vincent extends out his right arm, the sound of hydraulics and steam going off as the arm comes apart for a couple of seconds. ] 'Cause I've paid top eddies not to look like a 'borged freak. Bad for business in my line of work. [ Infiltration and assassination aren't very stealthy when someone sees the likes of Adam Smasher dropping in. Then there's the psychological benefits of looking human after all. ]