Technical Difficulties [Open]

[tincanbombs.livejournal.com]

 Kyle's not too pleased with himself. Back home, he made a habit of carrying around writing materials, because inspiration struck at random moments - it never waited until he was at his desk - and he had to record them quickly. Here, though, there was no paper or pencil in his bag, and he didn't know where to find any. Which led to him combing the halls, looking for a room where he might find writing utensils.

After twenty minutes of fruitless wandering, it had finally struck him that there was someone who happened to know where everything was, and would answer his questions. So he just asked Stacy - only to find out that he'd been carrying both with him all the time.

Somehow, he'd missed the memo about being able to write on one's omnicom. So, rather disgruntled with himself, he's retreated to the Obs Deck, and found himself a nice chair. It's not hard to avoid thinking about the fact that he's sitting on a chair made of bouncy, <i>fatty</i> tissue, when he's sketching neat guns with the stylus. At least the stylus behaves like an ordinary pencil, and doesn't require any of his (nonexistent) knowledge of computer programming and usage.

He's designing a gun that has an abnormally-long barrel, and sketches of what look like little magnets next to it - essentially, a sniper rifle based on the principles of a rail gun. Other half-fleshed-out sketches had been put aside; a few vaguely grenade-like spheres, a couple more guns, a rod of some sort...

[Open. Anyone who likes guns/engineering is welcome to talk shop with him, as is anyone who wants to meet a paranoid inventor. Sounds like the perfect setup for a good time, right? XD]

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[slainrobots.livejournal.com]

She shrugs, nodding faintly. She hadn't thought about it like that, really.

Yoshimi has to orient herself, frowning faintly as she does. It doesn't help that she has a bad sense of direction; everything is confusing enough as it is. When she think she knows where she's going, she glances at Kyle, and starts walking.

[tincanbombs.livejournal.com]

Kyle's mental compass is utterly useless in a structure such as this, so he trusts that Yoshimi knows better than he does, and follows her. "Not used to the ship's structure?" he asks, wryly.

[slainrobots.livejournal.com]

Yoshimi grimaces. "Is anyone? If the disorientation wears off, I'll be happy," she mutters, pausing to check their surroundings, trying to remember where in the hell she's going.

"I think it's..."

With a faint feeling of smugness, she finds the lockers and opens hers. "Tada," she says, her tone not nearly as enthusiastic as the interjection necessitates. With a not-really-at-all-flourishy flourish, she pulls the bag-clothed gun out, hearing the clink of the few loose bits rolling around as she lifts it. Removing the bag and throwing it back into the now empty locker, she offers Kyle the antique, rather broken (now that she thinks about it) gun. She blinks, looking confused for a minute before making a face that says clearly 'oh, right!' before frowning faintly. "Yeah, you know... its is broken. I'd forgotten about that. The last Class C I fought threw a tire at me, and I dropped it while I was dodging. Knocked a few bits loose." The loose bits are in her hand. "I had no clue where anything went, so I just kind of... let it lie, you know?"

[tincanbombs.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, it's not exactly like there's maps lying around." That'd be nice. Really nice. Kyle just hopes that growing up in a grid-like city doesn't mean he can't find his way around in a curving, twisting labyrinth like this.

He trailed Yoshimi to the lockers, eyes brightening slightly as she removed the gun. There was a telltale clink - something loose, either from damage or time. "Can I see those?" Holding out a hand, he turned the gun over with the other hand, examining it.

"Hmn...It looks rather old. Would you mind if I could somehow find a way to melt this down and remold it? I might be able to use some of the excess metal to make something else for it - a silencer, maybe. This one has a lot of kick, doesn't it? My guns - the guns I used to make - are designed to direct recoil downwards." Mumbling something under his breath about wishing Tarios was here, he turned the gun over again.

[slainrobots.livejournal.com]

"Maybe someone made one or something. 'Course, that'd make things too easy..." She wouldn't be surprised if anyone attempting to make a map had been pinned down and mugged by tentacles. Those pesky tentacles...

Yoshimi plops the parts into his hand, watching as he examines her rather dead antique, eyebrows lifted. Really, it was kind of stupid to even think to ask for it to be repaired. The thing was decimated.

"Feel free; all I want is something that shoot bullets rapidly. Anyway, I'm sure you know better than I do. In my dimension, our guns these days are weird air guns that pack one hell of a punch, but don't do much else. They eliminated bullets for common use about forty years ago, after they developed the new tech. I only got my hands on this one through an antique shop owner who looked to be as old as his merchandise. The bullets came in a fairly steady stream from the government after they figured out that I couldn't take down seven foot robots with my hands, but other than that, I haven't gotten any help with the thing. It took me a month to figure out how to disassemble it." Not my fault that I don't know how to work a normal gun; blame the anti-violence squads, she grumbles inwardly, shoving her hair out of her eyes.