Rather important little note: This fic is not a fic at all. It is a conglomeration of small drabbles, pieces of stories that do not belong in any fic. These were all challenges, where a phrase and the word count were given to me, and I wrote something in response to the challenge. I like some of them, so I'm posting them here, in this story thing. New drabbles go into new chapters. None of them go together. They're just here.
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Challenge #4
Phrase: "This is going to hurt."
Word Count: 834
Rating: PG
Title: Mechanically Inclined
Author: Rydia Highwind
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and Metal Gear Solid 2 and all characters refered to herein belong to Konami. I claim nothing, I'm simply borrowing.
Summary: Codecs, nanomachines, and, of course, Dave's inablilty to use anything mechanical.
Warning: There is no plot to this, it's just random dialogue and it generally sucks.
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"This is going to hurt," the man leaning against the kitchen counter grunted accusingly as he eyed the pair of devices sitting on the table, "isn't it."
The other man present was sitting at the table, fiddling with two of the wires exposed on the back of one of the half circular contraptions, still trying to figure out exactly how it worked. He leaned back in his chair, frowning a little, and raising one hand to slide his glasses back on his nose. "Don't be so pessimistic, Dave," he reprimanded. "From the sounds of it, the US Marines have already tried this thing out and have had a lot of success with it."
Dave grunted. "They never said it wouldn't hurt, did they." He knew the other man was right, though; he was often overly pessimistic when it came to the things the UN sometimes sent them to keep up with technology they couldn't afford on their own. No one wanted to donate money to an NGO whose acts often ended up viewed as borderline terrorism, especially after that hellish disaster with the tanker a couple of years back. No matter how much something promised to help, though, Dave found himself no longer really trusting anything given to him by the US military. He'd had enough interesting gifts from them; he didn't really want any more.
His roommate and only other member of their anti-metal gear organization, Hal, was still frowning as he folded his hands in front of him and looked again at the devices displayed before him on the table. "No," he admitted, "but think about how much easier it will be to sneak if you don't have to talk out loud to communicate with me, or anyone else. These new codecs are said to be completely mind operated; all you need to do is think a certain way and it'll interpret your brain waves."
Still skeptical, the first man glanced at the toaster, where his waffles were cooking, and then back at Hal. "That's what bothers me," he replied. "A machine that can read brains. Sounds like something right out of an Isaac Asimov."
This elicited a slight grin from his companion. "Or Arthur C. Clarke?" Hal suggested with one eyebrow raised in amusement. The fact that they were Dave and Hal had always been something of a joke for the two of them, thanks to Clarke's novel featuring two characters of the same names. Dave wasn't much on reading, but he'd seen the movie. And Hal read just about anything he could get his hands on, and he'd read it as a kid.
Dave wasn't really much in the mood for joking around and smiling; he was still a little perturbed about having to wear some sort of weird mechanical thing that could read his thoughts and display them to other people. But he gave his partner a half-assed smile regardless, commenting, "Something like that." He then regarded the toaster, which was still toasting his beloved waffles. It never usually took this long. What was the issue today?
"Anyway," Hal said, pushing away from the table and standing up, "they said we should inject the nanomachines at least twenty-four hours before using the codec. That way we don't have to switch them on until after your body adapts to the injection. We're supposed to be doing this at a hospital and using a trained professional, but hey, I'm a doctor, right?"
Hal was a scientific engineer with a PhD and in no way qualified to do anything medical. Dave consequently rolled his eyes, trying not to watch Hal remove a wicked looking needle from the package that had been delivered to them from the UN. "Yeah, right," Dave grunted. "I'd rather give the injection to myself, thanks. And how about after I eat? Those damn things always make me sick." This time, he reached over and poked the toaster.
A blink was given as he realized that the appliance wasn't even warm. "What the hell!? Hal, did you break the toaster? It's cold!" he exclaimed in dismay. A Dave without waffles was a force to be reckoned with indeed, and Hal knew that better than anyone else. Once they'd run out of waffles without Dave knowing and Hal claimed to this day that he had believed he was going to die that morning. If Hal were to break the toaster, there would be a new one by this point.
Hal stared at him, a look of fear glistening in his gray-green eyes hidden behind his glasses. "I didn't touch it!" he said defensively, throwing his hands up in an innocent gesture, the syringe still in his hand and waving dangerously in the air.
"Well, don't just stand there," Dave growled helplessly, completely inept when it came to anything mechanical. "Fix it!"
Hal examined the appliance, and almost immediately, he started to chuckle. Dave stared at him--being without waffles was not a laughing matter.
"Dave? Next time...plug the toaster in."
--
Challenge #4
Phrase: "This is going to hurt."
Word Count: 834
Rating: PG
Title: Mechanically Inclined
Author: Rydia Highwind
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and Metal Gear Solid 2 and all characters refered to herein belong to Konami. I claim nothing, I'm simply borrowing.
Summary: Codecs, nanomachines, and, of course, Dave's inablilty to use anything mechanical.
Warning: There is no plot to this, it's just random dialogue and it generally sucks.
--
"This is going to hurt," the man leaning against the kitchen counter grunted accusingly as he eyed the pair of devices sitting on the table, "isn't it."
The other man present was sitting at the table, fiddling with two of the wires exposed on the back of one of the half circular contraptions, still trying to figure out exactly how it worked. He leaned back in his chair, frowning a little, and raising one hand to slide his glasses back on his nose. "Don't be so pessimistic, Dave," he reprimanded. "From the sounds of it, the US Marines have already tried this thing out and have had a lot of success with it."
Dave grunted. "They never said it wouldn't hurt, did they." He knew the other man was right, though; he was often overly pessimistic when it came to the things the UN sometimes sent them to keep up with technology they couldn't afford on their own. No one wanted to donate money to an NGO whose acts often ended up viewed as borderline terrorism, especially after that hellish disaster with the tanker a couple of years back. No matter how much something promised to help, though, Dave found himself no longer really trusting anything given to him by the US military. He'd had enough interesting gifts from them; he didn't really want any more.
His roommate and only other member of their anti-metal gear organization, Hal, was still frowning as he folded his hands in front of him and looked again at the devices displayed before him on the table. "No," he admitted, "but think about how much easier it will be to sneak if you don't have to talk out loud to communicate with me, or anyone else. These new codecs are said to be completely mind operated; all you need to do is think a certain way and it'll interpret your brain waves."
Still skeptical, the first man glanced at the toaster, where his waffles were cooking, and then back at Hal. "That's what bothers me," he replied. "A machine that can read brains. Sounds like something right out of an Isaac Asimov."
This elicited a slight grin from his companion. "Or Arthur C. Clarke?" Hal suggested with one eyebrow raised in amusement. The fact that they were Dave and Hal had always been something of a joke for the two of them, thanks to Clarke's novel featuring two characters of the same names. Dave wasn't much on reading, but he'd seen the movie. And Hal read just about anything he could get his hands on, and he'd read it as a kid.
Dave wasn't really much in the mood for joking around and smiling; he was still a little perturbed about having to wear some sort of weird mechanical thing that could read his thoughts and display them to other people. But he gave his partner a half-assed smile regardless, commenting, "Something like that." He then regarded the toaster, which was still toasting his beloved waffles. It never usually took this long. What was the issue today?
"Anyway," Hal said, pushing away from the table and standing up, "they said we should inject the nanomachines at least twenty-four hours before using the codec. That way we don't have to switch them on until after your body adapts to the injection. We're supposed to be doing this at a hospital and using a trained professional, but hey, I'm a doctor, right?"
Hal was a scientific engineer with a PhD and in no way qualified to do anything medical. Dave consequently rolled his eyes, trying not to watch Hal remove a wicked looking needle from the package that had been delivered to them from the UN. "Yeah, right," Dave grunted. "I'd rather give the injection to myself, thanks. And how about after I eat? Those damn things always make me sick." This time, he reached over and poked the toaster.
A blink was given as he realized that the appliance wasn't even warm. "What the hell!? Hal, did you break the toaster? It's cold!" he exclaimed in dismay. A Dave without waffles was a force to be reckoned with indeed, and Hal knew that better than anyone else. Once they'd run out of waffles without Dave knowing and Hal claimed to this day that he had believed he was going to die that morning. If Hal were to break the toaster, there would be a new one by this point.
Hal stared at him, a look of fear glistening in his gray-green eyes hidden behind his glasses. "I didn't touch it!" he said defensively, throwing his hands up in an innocent gesture, the syringe still in his hand and waving dangerously in the air.
"Well, don't just stand there," Dave growled helplessly, completely inept when it came to anything mechanical. "Fix it!"
Hal examined the appliance, and almost immediately, he started to chuckle. Dave stared at him--being without waffles was not a laughing matter.
"Dave? Next time...plug the toaster in."