ArchivedLogs:Real Games

Real Games
Dramatis Personae Blink, Shane	2016-02-29 "So, you got some quick hands, huh?"
Location <NYC> The Batcave - Greenwich Village
Nestled in a basement of the meatpacking district, a hybrid of arcade and cybercafe, The Batcave is far more sociable a place than its name would suggest. Filled at all hours of day with the beeps and music and explosions of a myriad of arcade games, as well as the laughter and conversation (and curses) to go with it, the dark theme in decor is broken up by the bright lights of their game machines. One corner of the establishment is a perpetual LAN party with a projector screen-equipped lounge area for spectators. Along the opposite wall, a counter serves soft drinks and greasy junk food, and off in the back a door leads to what is by far the larger part of the establishment: a fully-equipped laser tag arena. Monday night, it's not as packed in here as it might be some other nights. Not that it's exactly dead either, loud shouting coming from over by the computers and a sprinkling of people scattered throughout the arcade floor. There's a handful of youths just being disgorged from the darkness of the laser tag battlefield in the back, in various states of laughing-to-disgruntled -- while most are heading out, one tiny figure (after a requisite number of high-fives and back-pats) lingers, hands shoved into pockets as he ambles over to check out the commotion at the current LAN showdown. Dressed blandly in jeans and a cream henley, he certainly doesn't /look/ bland otherwise, deep blue skin stretched over markedly inhuman features. There's thousands of tons of mechanized chaos going down on the big screen right now. The intense Hawken deathmatch is at the moment dominated by a tiny scout mech, running circles around its more ponderous opponents. Most of the trash-talk is good-natured, but there are at least a couple of odd looks aimed at the scout's player. Not much is visible of that person, though, except for a black hooded cloak edged in violet and mauve. Inevitably, the scout finally takes one hit too many for its light armor and perishes, but the time run out a few seconds later anyway. There are loud calls of "winner out" and more fewer, more quiet of "good game". Blink pushes her chair back and stands, her face still only partly visible in the dim blue glow of the screen. Where the front of her cloak falls open, the long dress she wears underneath can be seen, light purple with gray and black trim, cinched with a bright green sash. For a moment, she hovers near to watch, but then breaks away toward the arcade area. She does a double-take when she sees Shane, though, and looks like she's about to approach him when a tall white man with a fauxhawk intercepts her. "So, you got some quick hands, huh? Is that your mutation?" Blink just blinks up at him, her expression as annoyed as it is confused. "Um...no?" she says, bright green eyes scanning her surroundings for a convenient excuse to escape his attention. "Feel like you're about to inspire some quick hands." Shane isn't making a particular effort to project, but nor is he exactly trying to keep his voice low. Just sort of leaning against the back of a couch where he's been watching the end of the match -- and now Blink. The quick grin that flits across his face is much -- /much/ -- wider than most mouths should be able to split, and filled with very sharp serrated teeth. "That was good." "Well, I'm /very/ inspiring," says the guy with the fauxhawk, casually. Until he looks to see the source of the comment, and blanches at the sight of Shane's toothy maw. "I'm going to grab some food, if you wanna join me?" This is back at Blink, kind of hastily. "No, thank you," she manages to get this out politely, though she's already half-turning to get away from him and only relaxes when he's fled. She doesn't seem completely eager to get much closer to Shane, either, but she does offer him a (much less toothy) smile. "And thank you. This place is excellent." Then, glancing at Fauxhawk's silhouette as he melts into the crowd. "The games are excellent, anyway." "Yeah, well, you seem pretty good at 'em." Shane's grin relaxes into something -- more approaching normal proportions, though still plenty sharp-toothed. "I embarrass myself, mostly, unless I stick to skeeball. Oh! Oh or the shooty ones. I mean. Not like --" He gestures to the huge screen. "/Those/. I mean --" He nods back towards the arcade proper. "The kind with the actual pistol things you can pick up? I like that. But mostly skeeball. It's my sister who kicks everyone's ass at all the real games." Blink ducks her head, blushing slightly. "I'm best at platformers with a lot of physics, but play enough first person shooters and you get a pretty good sense for them. It's not as if any game's more real than any other. They're all...games, right?" She glances in the direction of Shane's nod. "Does laser tag count as having actual pistol things?" "I don't know, tell that to some of the people here, they /definitely/ got mad /opinions/ on what's the real games and what aren't." Shane's nose wrinkles, his tone a little dry. His smile brightens, though, widen and sharp as he looks back towards the laser tag arena. "Oh hell fucking /yeah/. Though, to be /fair/, good night vision /probably/ doesn't much hurt there either. But good aim helps, too. You ever played?" Blink rolls her eyes, their whites only just barely showing around the huge green irises. "Right, like only the games they're good at are 'real'? Forget them." She toys with the crescent-shaped clasp of her cloak absently. "I've only played a few times. Last town I lived in was pretty crap, and the only laser tag place there banned me." She shrugs. "I wasn't too great at it without cheating." "Banned you for what? Kicking too much ass? How do you cheat at laser tag, anyway? Fuck with the machinery, I guess --" Shane sounds thoughtful, now, claws drumming against the back of the couch. Though, more excited -- kind of hopeful? -- "Unleash drones into the arena to spy for you and report the other players' positions? /That/ sounds like something my sister'd do. What town were you in before?" "Teleporting," Blink replies with a grin. "I'd show you but I don't want to get banned /here/, too. Drones are also pretty cool, though. It was Pensacola, Florida." Then, after a pause. "And I'm Blink." "What? Since when are there rules about /moving/ too fast?" It's hard to /see/ Shane's eyes roll, pure black and pupilless as they are, but his tone and the shift of his brows, upward tilt of his head, suggests that he's rolling them all the same. "I swear to god they're going to start clocking how fast we goddamn run one of these days -- anyway, I got a friend who plays here, you should fucking /see/ him zip all the hell over the place and they haven't canned him yet." His hand moves in the air, fingers opening and closing rapidly as if simulating -- a firefly, maybe, /something/ blinking on and off in a rapid jittery path. "Yet. But then again we only ever play in our own group of freaks. He played against flatscans who complained, that'd probably change /damn/ quick." He stretches out a clawed hand towards Blink. "Shane." Blink pushes the hood back off of her head, shakes her long braid out to let it hang down over one shoulder. "Well, /my/ friends didn't mind, but some military dudebros challenged us and they didn't appreciate being trounced with portals." She tilts her head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at Shane's hand. "Funny story, I ran into a guy this weekend who moved kinda like that... New York, man." She hesitates only briefly before taking a step closer to shake Shane's hand. "Nice to meet you. Do you think your friends would mind I join you sometime, for a match?" Her head tips in the direction of the laser tag arena. "Woooah you serious?" Shane's eyes open wide, two huge black pools that dominate a disproportionately large part of his narrow face. His handshake is firm, his skin much cooler than most. "Was he a cyborg? I haven't met anyone who moves like Flicker but Flicker. And I don't think they'd mind, we're /always/ down for more freak-sports. You should've seen what snowball fights get like." Bright and amused. "/I'm/ going to hit up the skeeball. You down?" Blink laughs, kind of suddenly, lifting a hand to her mouth as if the noise startled even herself. "Oh! Yes, I mean, we're talking about the same person. Unless there's some /other/ strobing teleporter around here with a mechanical right arm and a flair for heroics named Flicker." Her smile is a lot less shy now. "Oh, I wish I'd seen it! Me and my sister, we'd never even experienced snow until this winter." She peers toward the arcade area as if scouting for Fauxhawk guy, but then nods. "Yeah I'm down." "Oh /man/ yeah that's him. I mean I hope to god it is, our basketball games definitely couldn't handle him being cloned. We can barely handle one of him." Shane tucks his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "There's always next year," he says cheerfully, "and summer has all /kinds/ of freak sports to play, too. I just can't wait to get back in the water." He jerks his head towards the wall where the skeeball lanes are lined up, toothy grin bright. "Rad. Let's roll."