Krayzikk — Roleplayer Guild

@Plank Sinatra@Kaithas@NarayanK

He’d always kinda wanted siblings. Living with his Dad had always been kinda cool in its own way, they’d been really close. Until things went south. But it was also a little lonesome. There’s a certain bond siblings have, a camaraderie impossible to explain. A familiarity and a trust, a sort of closeness and support you’d be hardpressed to find anywhere else. Family was forever in a way that only the closest friendships could match. 

Blinking away sleep, eyelids knitted tight against the intruding light, Ben knew he’d found family. It was impossible to explain. Given a hundred years he still couldn’t do it. There was no rational reason this crew of misfits was family, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he was home. These chucklefucks were his family. The snake, the stripper, and his best friend. It was Lauren’s bed he woke up in, though for the life of him he couldn’t remember how he got there. Especially since Lauren herself was over in Amy’s. This jumble of thoughts went through his head in his first few waking moments, during the aimless Purgatory that lays between sleep and the dawn’s harsh light. And it was harsh. The first thing he realized was that he needed coffee. The second was that Lauren’s ton of blankets were way too warm, which probably accounted for his shirt discarded a few feet away.

Bastille’s leader rolled out of bed groggily, putting feet to floor quietly enough to avoid waking anyone. Sangue was already gone, probably getting an early start, but Amy and Lauren were still sleeping. Best to let them stay that way after the night he and Lauren had. What of it he could remember, at least. He did remember losing his bet. Lawnslot was tucked snugly against Lauren’s chest and he didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about it.

It was still in the family.

He muffled the yawn building up in his chest with a balled fist while he shuffled over to the coffee maker, listening with satisfaction as it whirred its way to the life-saving substance. The only pause, once he had coffee in hand, en route to his desk was by Amy’s bed. Sleep was the only way she was ever quiet, and though he wouldn’t say it to her face, she was damn cute like this. He ruffled her hair briefly, smiling a little at the sleepy, absent ’mrrr’ she uttered, and continued to his desk. The sleep was still heavy on his brain when he sat down, driven slowly off by a few blinks and the hot coffee in his cup, but his purpose was clear. The movements were still a little fumbling while he grabbed a notebook and opened it, but every action was more purposeful than the last.

Yesterday’s mission had stuck with him, maybe not the same way as it would’ve for someone else. He wasn’t upset, or scared, or angry, he just… Knew something he didn’t when he woke up yesterday. Bastille was his family, and he trusted them without fail. Artorius and Lawnslot were designed so he could handle everything by himself. They excelled at nothing, because they needed to do everything. Lauren’s education in their maintenance (while she made him a replacement for Lawnslot) was a golden opportunity to give them a revamp. Bastille was his family, and that meant he could trust them to have his back. It also meant no one got to lay a fucking finger on them. Anyone, anything, that wanted to would have to step over his battered, broken body for the goddamn chance. The woman who’d used her last breaths to signal for help was forefront in his mind, a measure of resolve he found he could understand for the first time. It didn’t matter, at a certain point, what happened to you. What mattered was what happened to your family.

So Ben found himself looking over a few sheets bearing, in a rough shorthand, the header on each page;

The pages themselves were messy and hard to follow, a mess of crossed out words and pictures, with a few phrases underlined or circled here and there. It was an idea he’d batted around a little on the way to Beacon, but he had revisited it last night; that much he could remember. It explained, too, why some of the later additions were even messier than the rest. But the drawing on the last occupied page was clear, something he had gone to great pains to make perfect even while drunk. It was exactly what he needed. If he was gonna give Lauren hell over needing an upgrade, he did too. The Manticore Refinery had been a wakeup call even though it was a success. The monsters out there were big, and it wasn’t hard to fall prey to one. A sobering realization, but an important one. He couldn’t keep skating by on the bare minimum needed to win. 

Glancing at the diagram he had finished the night before, he knew that it’d do the trick. It had the potential to be his best work yet. It wouldn’t be cheap. Glancing at the materials list he had started before, a list almost illegible between the drinks and his fatigue, he knew it really wouldn’t be cheap. It was a damn good thing he’d gotten paid. The raw materials alone would cost a mint. He couldn’t cheap out on them. The right metals for durability, strong enough but flexible enough, metals that could stand up to the stresses it’d experience, didn’t come cheap. If he were back home he could have asked his father to request a little more on his bulk order, get it cheaper. Ben wouldn’t get the bulk sale discount. The parts for the sensors, too… He couldn’t just buy the sensors he needed, he had to make them from scratch. 

He was pacing on bare feet now, paying no mind to the rising sun while he wrote in his notebook. It was a damn good thing he’d gotten paid, though the orders would still give his wallet a hit. He’d have to check the armory workshop, too. A whole afternoon would be needed just to get his tools. A craftsmen didn’t just buy his tools; every weaponsmith had the same core toolbox, sure, but that wasn’t what they made themselves. Whenever they had a specific need, they made the tool themselves. Ben would have to assemble a few years of custom tools all at once. And he’d have to make sure the workshop was equipped to handle the alloys he was using, too. It took some damn high end machines to work with metals like these. Ben casually munched on an apple from the room’s fruit bowl while he worked, refilling his coffee mug when it emptied and pausing when he needed to give one thought particular attention.

That was how he spent his waking hours, right up until the first “cap”. While Lauren woke and fought with her alarm (or attempted to, given that she’d somehow dropped her phone down Amy’s shirt) he grabbed a second mug and poured another cup of coffee.

“Morning babe,” He commented, setting the mug down on Amy’s nightstand and tossing his notebook onto his desk. “Drink up, you’re gonna need it.”

Remembering his other task, now that he was thinking about something other than his work, he picked up a plastic bag off of his bed and set it on Sangue’s. Exactly why he had ended up in a department store past midnight was another story, but he and Lauren had seen a whole “as seen on TV” aisle and the rest was history. He’d bought a blanket with sleeves because he and Lauren agreed that the quietest member of the team would love a blanket she could use without having to take her arm out from under it, and planned to tuck it away until the holidays. Kind of silly, but they were drunk. A little further thought with a sober mind changed the plan a bit. He figured now was as good a time as any to give it to her. There was enough time before then and enough lien in his wallet to do better than for the holidays. 

It was better as a fun little victory gift, anyway.

“Rise and shine. Sangue beat us all to getting up.”
Krayzikk Member

The Snark Knight

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