beautiful morning with you [OPEN]
WHO: Victor Mancha and OPEN
WHERE: Casa del Runaways, streets, clinic, hospital?
WHEN: Early morning, 6/2
WARNINGS: recollections of mechanical dismemberment, surliness
SUMMARY: Damaged robot boy angsts and then goes to the hospital
FORMAT: Solo tl;dr to start, anything after. Just start a thread telling where you encounter him.
Victor woke from a dreamless sleep and found himself sitting on the couch, with sunrise peering in the windows. He groaned and cursed himself. He'd only meant to power down for an hour or so, to get his energy reserves up. Instead he'd slept nearly eighteen. He'd promised Nico he'd see her soon. Eighteen hours was really, really not 'soon' for circumstances of Girlfriend In Hospital Feeling Like Shit. Hopefully she'd slept most of it away too. He even had a plan, involving bandages and a borrowed wheelchair and a lot of hope that no one would give him a hard time.
He shuffled to the bathroom to look himself over. His right hand had come back together but the flesh was missing. His left looked human but he was missing the last two fingers. His face was still pretty hopeless. 41 percent now. All the rips in his skin had healed up; only fading lines remained where it had broken. Where he'd lost it entirely, though, he couldn't tell if it was growing back at all yet. What if it didn't? Victor's human cells had been grown from his mother's. Did he need a tissue donor? How would that even work? The right side of his face was still bare machinery, from above his hairline to his lower jaw. At least he'd found his eye. You have to call Hank, idiota, You have to get help. And he would, later. He didn't want to get analyzed in a lab and probably powered down and generally made to feel like a thing for who knew how long -- not before he got to see Nico.
He washed up as well as he could, and wrapped elastic bandages around his face to cover up. It wasn't perfect, but hopefully if he acted surly enough no one would look too close. He still needed those fingers back, if he could find them. Bunch of his toes as well. He pulled on a hoodie and tugged it up over his head.
He pulled his cellphone out and stared at it. Billy could get me there easy, if I asked him. He sighed and stuck it back in his pocket. The idea of having a spell cast on him right now made him queasy. He couldn't avoid thinking of the last one. Nico, covered in blood, eyes flaring witchlight and rage. The way she'd screamed and then the blackness, pressure, feeling of tearing. Vic shivered. He could delete it, the memory, the whole thing from seeing her glare at him to waking up broken and lost. It was tempting. But it seemed intensely wrong at the same time.
He walked around the apartment experimentally. He was actually not feeling so weak any more. Just freakish and powerless and awkward. So, swing past the site of The Accident again for his bits, then Rikki's clinic to borrow the wheelchair, then the hospital. All without getting mugged, or violently dismembered by frightened citizens. No problema. Victor stuffed his hands in his pockets and made for the door.
WHERE: Casa del Runaways, streets, clinic, hospital?
WHEN: Early morning, 6/2
WARNINGS: recollections of mechanical dismemberment, surliness
SUMMARY: Damaged robot boy angsts and then goes to the hospital
FORMAT: Solo tl;dr to start, anything after. Just start a thread telling where you encounter him.
Victor woke from a dreamless sleep and found himself sitting on the couch, with sunrise peering in the windows. He groaned and cursed himself. He'd only meant to power down for an hour or so, to get his energy reserves up. Instead he'd slept nearly eighteen. He'd promised Nico he'd see her soon. Eighteen hours was really, really not 'soon' for circumstances of Girlfriend In Hospital Feeling Like Shit. Hopefully she'd slept most of it away too. He even had a plan, involving bandages and a borrowed wheelchair and a lot of hope that no one would give him a hard time.
He shuffled to the bathroom to look himself over. His right hand had come back together but the flesh was missing. His left looked human but he was missing the last two fingers. His face was still pretty hopeless. 41 percent now. All the rips in his skin had healed up; only fading lines remained where it had broken. Where he'd lost it entirely, though, he couldn't tell if it was growing back at all yet. What if it didn't? Victor's human cells had been grown from his mother's. Did he need a tissue donor? How would that even work? The right side of his face was still bare machinery, from above his hairline to his lower jaw. At least he'd found his eye. You have to call Hank, idiota, You have to get help. And he would, later. He didn't want to get analyzed in a lab and probably powered down and generally made to feel like a thing for who knew how long -- not before he got to see Nico.
He washed up as well as he could, and wrapped elastic bandages around his face to cover up. It wasn't perfect, but hopefully if he acted surly enough no one would look too close. He still needed those fingers back, if he could find them. Bunch of his toes as well. He pulled on a hoodie and tugged it up over his head.
He pulled his cellphone out and stared at it. Billy could get me there easy, if I asked him. He sighed and stuck it back in his pocket. The idea of having a spell cast on him right now made him queasy. He couldn't avoid thinking of the last one. Nico, covered in blood, eyes flaring witchlight and rage. The way she'd screamed and then the blackness, pressure, feeling of tearing. Vic shivered. He could delete it, the memory, the whole thing from seeing her glare at him to waking up broken and lost. It was tempting. But it seemed intensely wrong at the same time.
He walked around the apartment experimentally. He was actually not feeling so weak any more. Just freakish and powerless and awkward. So, swing past the site of The Accident again for his bits, then Rikki's clinic to borrow the wheelchair, then the hospital. All without getting mugged, or violently dismembered by frightened citizens. No problema. Victor stuffed his hands in his pockets and made for the door.