/Mail from the Narrative Villain./
Dear, Villainers.
I was sleep deprived when i wrote a chapter i shut down. And now I'm rested after a hiatus of whatever the time was. Uh, expect it to happen more.
This is a bit undercooked but i need to get out of my funk.
Also I'm sleep deprived now.
Oh btdubs. Charlotte is Charles. No idea if i clarified that. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
/ Witty endcard./
Traveling was an odyssey in and of itself. The pathway was already pre done yet there was still a great deal of twisting and turning to actually arrive at Mauretania through the confusing placement of this place the general area could be waved at but the corridors were a broken wrist, but she managed to plot out a course outside of the easily populated streams of people. For now, and here she was in this surprisingly nice tile floor with a soft mood lighting bouncing off the pale walls.
At first glance one wouldn't seem to really consider this place as related to mechanics or gear works in any way possible, it was more like a check in for a hotel, a very fancy 5 star hotel that isn't available to anyone who made below six figures, but it was open that this was the place, with only the name Mauretania. Nothing else. Could be a fancy restaurant actually if you forgot where you were.
It was hidden away, used as more of a reception desk, bringing in your Deux's to the double doors next to the counter then leave. He'd seen it happen before, it didn't even show anything past that certainly no windows.
(Two's.)
One long empty counter with a small slide door, she walked up and rang the bell next to the sign that told her to do just that. No actual noise came out, as it had before, but she still tapped it more times as if it were a fidget toy. After a small minute the girl with faded blue hair popped out behind the door, letting the noise of the machinery escape before quickly ensuring the door remained shut behind them with its noisy hinge forcibly pushing it shut as fast as she could.
They walked over calmly and popped out their ear plugs. Before looking directly at Charles for far longer than she was comfortable with their red irises that was what she always remembered.
Did he look good? Is his face wrong? More berating self questioning occurred, she just did this when she was around girls.
The girl who's name was on the cusp of her lips finally decided to speak after a while with her overabundant freckles and very frizzed up blue hair cut scrunched up to the back of her head that visibly needed a redyeing. He wouldn't even dare risk mistaking her name for someone else's.
"Hi, how can I fix you?" What? Was she translating it wrong? Better to just move forward.
"The tournament is tomorrow, some of my gear would benefit from replacement and a small amount of repair."
"Alright, you've done this before, correct?" She forgot him, that stung a slight amount more than it should've for some reason. "Pull up your ID on the keypad, we'll go."
11111935. A quick type in then a fingerprint scan. It was surprisingly similar to just logging in to the cafeteria. It certainly wasn't secure but it streamlined the whole process.
"Pruvot?" No. Wrong inflection. The barely hidden Russian accent just made him want to correct her more.
"Prévôt, but yes." He wouldn't rub it in here face though.
"Ah, forgive me for the travesty."
"Alright. One second." She started tapping at the computer then with one final clack on the keyboard before a whirring from the receipter. A word he knew was wrong but he wouldn't stand for saying receipt machine. He shouldn't be brash, dam's breaking. Cascade failures.
It just whirred for a good second before stopping with an unsatisfying achunk. Blue girl visibly frowned while looking at it.
"Ah. One second, I need a replacement." She went under the counter and grabbed a new line of paper for printing, there was a large groan when she opened the little door. Opening the the printer before going to apply a-
"Ебаный Блядь" It made her heart skip a beat when she heard those words. Flight was something she wanted to do right now for that moment. The blue girl stepped back and started marching around whispering those words before remembering he was here.
(Fucking Whore.) Heard all too often, universally known to her small world.
"I'm sorry." She panhandled for any word to add next. " Our machine- give me a second." She ripped something out from the receipter and proceeded to throw it into a nearby garbage can in a weak manner. Her other hand grasped a similar object.
Charles got a good look at it when it hit the wall and slammed into the bin with a slow thwack before falling into the bin.
Raisins? That was the exact little box they had in the cafeteria to carry. Was there a story behind this?
"Is this-?"
"No. No no. It's nothing. Nothing, I'm telling you." Such a ravenous response just made him more curious than he already was. This was one of the few harmless interesting things happening to him.
"Alright." He tried to push it off with a slight chuckle.
Blue got him his receipt and urged him to walk with her with a silent wave but paused right before they entered into the main hangar raising a finger to pause their movement, ensuring first to pop in some ear plugs before granting her an answer.
"You don't need these. I do, constant exposure to heavy equipment isn't good for my ears." It made sense enough, she was like this before.
The door opened with a riveting of metal crunching hard and slowly grating on the floor scraping out any noise that it could. Blue just wandered through as fast as she could out of the range of the door into the clamor of the machinery surrounding them. The noise wasn't nearly as strong as she would think, being less of a turbulence and more of a buzz, but he wasn't here everyday.
Past the large unfinished projects that the college students from the cumulus wing weren't even close to completing from the looks of it. So many materials thrown next to left behind tools, how odd that most people would be impressed by the collection. He was, he wasn't that bougie mechanically speaking. It's just that, well she was used to seeing more rusted gears right? Then with the introduction to the same mechanics and gears used here. She was and became used to the heavy machinery, an oddity that defined her. A character trait?
More wandering through broken machinery in the process of fixing, scrubbers and forklifts littered the area. It was still a short walk when they entered into the center bay with its manufacturing line for the damaged generics followed by the overarching entrance, more abandoned tools at nearly finished jobs.
Its iconic roundabout figure was there. It existed in the same place he did, he saw its use often. Charles used it before he would do it again, so the marveling was toned down a notch with him trying to force some sort of aspect of wonder from this complex structure.
They talked too much about it in orientation week, after making them learn how to do that dance.
Do two L's with your hands like a camera! Make a box. Hundreds of different cultures descend from this one globe to give a custom repair job native to each country of origin with their own specialized machinery. The mathematics assistance center is located next to the tai courtyard.
He took off his necklace and played with it for a slight second, the spade structure with a sort of curl near the two areas closest to the stem on each side. Then slipped off the babiole and tossed it into the black loading bay.
(Trinket.)
It sputtered out energy like a firework underwater. A rusty lawnmower starts while it's raining then proceeds to stop after the blade starts spinning faster than a merry go round pushed by kids more energy jutting splattering, it bloated up then popped before each layer of energy instantly formed in place like it had before.
Lockers expanding, weapons rematerializing. That's it, damage and all.
"Anything interesting modifications we should know about?" It was really upfront, she could say alternative or… she was just bad at English. Blue did ask about this last time, but also she did work here so that might be a tell in of itself.
"Large focus on inventory." Was it even necessary at this point? They crammed a lot of things into this small pendant to try to seem up to date, and everything in this technology was inherently spawned out of energy.
But there it was, all the lockers sprawled out in a sort of manufacturing line in their own little semi-solid tangibly intangible "stasis" all connected to the wrists ready to rotate armament to fit the situation.
He walked back to the outside observatory, where blue was fiddling around with the control station.
Charles for reasons of keeping up his image decided to ask blue what her thoughts were on this. It brought back that sort of stumbling in his gut that always came about when he forced himself to talk to others.
"What are the best assets in this from your perspective?" He sounded like a shill.
Blue didn't even pause to answer. "The prior alternative system for items. It makes sense doesn't it? Why bring out a few objects one at a time when you can have them all out at once, old is gold why everyone is rushing for more ripping is something I don't understand." A sort of rush was gained from such a positive response back from someone like her not from the actual contents themselves. Surprising given her native tongue.
"Quantity is a quality in itself isn't it?" He was so nervous about the fact that she was treating him to an actual conversation.
"Depends on the quality of the quantity." Well, his guns broke and he was here to fix them.
"Quantity is something I would very much like a resupply on." Ending the metaphor before he ruined it in front of her.
"What type?" She seemed eager to use the little control connected to the atlas like she was playing a video game flicking buttons and letting the arms get out of their nooks and shelving while editing and reconfiguring Yssen removing the bits and pieces that weren't in service anymore not a full rejuvenation though, that would take a week.
"It's in the files for any emphasized weaponry in the diagnostics? but I broke a shotgun, along with a few average heavy rifles along with my cleaver." He put in the ending procedure. "All Dubois brands." It was like the © stamped at the end of every advertisement they played.
"Hey, you can talk openly here." It was a light joke then she hushed down a little. "We keep secrets here." She almost seemed to be giggling.
Great now he would have to pretend to be offended.
"Say that to my face!" He tried puffing and foaming out himself, changing everything and making her draw back almost at his escalated tone immobile yet withdrawn.
Then he brought back a jostling joking tone "And to my wallet!" Charles was letting the debonair roll down his sleeve into his palms.
"Oh- Oh alright." It failed. He was sweating at the thought of her not liking his joke, the wrong audience. She'd be laughing behind his back or something with her friends, It was over, a girl would never like him again. Blue whispered something under her breath openly. "Кто хочет стать миллионером? Все, кроме миллиардеров."
"What?" What?
"Old Russian saying for Novorizhskoye. Your resupplies should be done by tomorrow, go ahead and walk yourself out whenever you want." She let loose a small laugh at that even more open to her but her voice was always hidden behind a fog of hushing.
(Sounds similar to something in french, but what?)
Charles guessed it was over. Alright? He really could keep the conversation going but, he seemed to have poured gasoline on the bridge. There really was no need to start playing around with a lighter.
"Goodbye then." He tried pulling off any sort of charm on her but knew it was a lost cause.
"Ciao vidanya." Charles wouldn't- shouldn't dedicate his time decoding her, she was just the help, nothing more.
Better to finish the day before he sputtered out harder.