[Voice Test] Connor & Peter - Seasons Greetings

[st_abilitylost]

Of every face that Connor’s internal database failed to recognize since the beginning of his short stay, the only source of familiarity was found in the inanimate statues of Mr. and Mrs. Claus mounted in the lobby. He recognzied then as symbols of generosity and goodwill towards all humanity, but something about the way the sculptor chose to craft their features seemed...off.

He didn’t have any business lingering and passing judgements on the craftsmanship but there was no lieutenant to bark at him for “spacing out” and it all left him at, for lack of a better phrase, a loss.

Comments

[st_arkintern]

Peter can't imagine life with one dog interaction total.

"Miguel -- he's another kid here -- has a dog named Dante," he says. "I'm sure if you wanted to play with him, Miguel would be happy to loan him to you for a few hours." Dante was full of energy; Peter was sure that it probably got exhausting entertaining a dog that energetic sometimes.

[st_abilitylost]

Instantaneously, Connor entered his analytic space. There were no traces of dog fur in the carpet fibers, but there particles of dander floating on the air. Pinpointing one such particle caught in the sun, he ran a scan of its makeup. The genetic markers for the Xoloitzcuintle were a 96% match.

"Ah. A Mexican Hairless Dog. My partner's dog is a Saint Bernard. Thank you for the recommendation, Peter."

[st_arkintern]

Peter looks around, expecting to see Dante running around the inn, as he often did; there's no sight or sound of Dante, though, and Peter's gaze turns back to Connor, perplexed.

"How did you know?"

[st_abilitylost]

"I'm optimized for forensic investigation, among other things. Biological traces don't escape my notice easily." Connor winked at the boy, adjusting his tie once more. "If I wanted to track this dog down, I could easily reconstruct his movements and pinpoint his location."

[st_arkintern]

Peter huhs softly at that.

"What about non-biological things?" he asks. "Can you track other androids, too?" He's sure if they left some sign, like footprints, he'd be able to track them. But androids don't have fingerprints and they don't have blood. At least he thinks Vision doesn't have blood. He never thought to ask.

[st_abilitylost]

"Androids from my world," That distinction still felt odd to say, "Have internal structures called biocomponents. These are synthetic organs roughly analogous to human organs. Data and energy circulates our systems via a liquid substance called Thirium 310. It's quite similar to blood in its function. It can be lost with external damage. Enough spilled, the android may experience shut down. Each model can be uniquely identified by their Thirium 310 as well."

There was no trace of such a substance anywhere at this hotel--or any other android markers for that matter. Connor had scrutinized the area harder than usual for it, to boot. Connor's express subtly hardened. "My task is to assist in criminal investigations involving androids specifically."

[st_arkintern]

Peter listens, storing away this information for later. He looks over at the Mr. and Mrs. Clause, at their weirdly smiling faces.

"We only really had two androids that I know of," he says, thinking of Ultron. "Vision, he's one of the good guys. I fought with him once." Alongside him. Not against him. "Then there was Ultron. He tried to destroy the Earth until the Avengers stopped him."

He was probably the closest thing they had to an android criminal. An android war criminal.

[st_abilitylost]

Vision. Ultron. Avengers. Destruction of Earth. Connor squinted as he put these oddly shaped pieces together. Never before had an android posed a worldwide existential threat to his own experience. This boy’s world boasted android terrorists of the highest magnitude.

“I’m sorry. You said you fought an android posing a global threat?”

[st_arkintern]

"No, no, no," Peter says quickly, holding his hands up in front of him. "Ultron -- I didn't have my powers then. I wasn't one of the Avengers."

He is now, though.

[st_abilitylost]

“What do you...avenge?” Were this back in his Detroit, he would have diagnosed the boy as delusional and referred him to a mental health treatment facility of his affordability. The unique situation being what it was, it wasn’t logical to just write him off.

[st_arkintern]

"We don't really avenge anything," Peter says, and for the first time he really thinks about the name and wonders how anyone came up with it. Avengers. Why did he never really think about the meaning of that name until now? "We just fight bad guys. We're um." Suddenly, Peter feels embarrassed admitting it and he's not even entirely sure why.

"We're superheroes."

[st_abilitylost]

Connor merely stared at his current conversation partner, looking up and down at him.

Superheroes. Popular fictional genre. Conventions include super powered heroes and antagonists, secret identities, and speculative elements relating to ethical and moral dilemmas.

"I see." Connor replied politely and attentively, observing Peter's awkward shuffling about. "That's very impressive at your age, Peter."

[st_arkintern]

"Um," Peter says, because he's pretty sure that Connor is patronizing him. Maybe he thinks he's lying. Peter's not sure, but he's trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Want me to show you?"

[st_abilitylost]

Connor adjusted his cuffs. “I ask you don’t use violence against my person. I’m not programmed to harm humans but I will defend myself.”

[st_arkintern]

"No, no, I wasn't going to," Peter says quickly. Did people generally hurt androids? Peter doesn't know. Instead, he steps back, and back, and back again, and surveys the area. Then satisfied, he races forward, then launches himself up onto the ceiling where he easily sticks to the bright pink surface.

Peter turns to look down at Connor and smiles, then waves. "See?"

[st_abilitylost]

The moment Peter started in, Connor preconstructed each potential movement. A tackle? A feint? Some attack with a hidden weapon? In a split second, Connor had the option to dodge, retaliate, or keep still--and he opted to do the latter in a show of good faith. In the next moment, Connor felt it fortuitous he chose to observe, as the boy sprung up at the ceiling in an utterly unanticipated move, and his eyes caught every movement. Connor appeared as baffled as he ever would as he stared back up.

And then, just so he could be sure his visual processing units weren't malfunctioning, he self-scanned and then reconstructed the great leap on loop several times.

Connor cleared his throat. No malfunctions here. He ran the visual data through his usual process of analyzation. "Enhanced speed, strength, dexterity, shock resistance...potentially the ability to alter the inter-atomic interactions between yourself and external surfaces. Is that accurate?"

[st_arkintern]

"Yeah, that all sounds right," Peter says, still looking down at Connor. "I also use my web-shooters."

Peter demonstrates; he turns his hand knuckle face-forward and slings his fingers out. With a flick of the wrist, Peter sends a shot of web fluid at a wall. It stretches long against it in a classic spider's web shape.

[st_abilitylost]

Connor's head followed the initial shot, pausing each moment in time to calculate its trajectory, the way it reacted with air, and how it adhered to the wall to splay out into a distinctly arachnid pattern. However, merely seeing wasn't believing, especially when the mysterious substance was low enough to touch.

"Web-shooters." He repeated, approaching the curious formation on the wall. He rubbed his two forefingers over the hardening substance, ending up with some sticky white residue on the pads of his digits. Without thinking twice, he pressed it to his tongue like it was sugar.

[st_arkintern]

Peter's eyes widen and he drops to the ground without realizing it; his spidey-reflexes go off, same as they might if he were a cat who was suddenly dropped, and he lands cleanly on the ground.

"Don't -- don't eat that stuff," Peter says, scrambling to Connor's side. "It'll make you sick."

[st_abilitylost]

Connor focused as he processed the substance on his tongue. It acted much like the silk of a web building spider, but chemically it was distinct—more similar to nylon.

“I’m not eating it.” He rubbed his fingers together to encourage the polymers to degrade a bit quicker. “I’m analyzing it. This doesn’t come from your own biomass, correct?”

[st_arkintern]

Peter blinks, watching wordlessly as Connor pulls his fingers away and rubs them against one another. It takes a few long moments after Connor is done speaking for Peter to register that he was being asked a question.

"No," he says. "I made it. In science lab."

[st_abilitylost]

“I don’t have a reference pool for superheroes,” Connor began, continuing to rub the stubborn fluid between his digits, “But by most definitions, the tensile strength of your creation is formidable.”

[st_arkintern]

Peter smiles with pride.

"Yeah," he says. "Thank you. It took me a really long time to get the formula right. I still work on improving it here, too." With more limited resources than he had back at home. He'd been able to bring some stuff back from the OtherWorlds, but...

"Did you want to try my web-shooters out?"

[st_abilitylost]

Connor angled his head slightly to one side, looking between Peter’s face and the tool on his wrist. This human was considerably more generous with his time and resources than most. Human children were known to bond to their android caregivers and treat them as playmates, but generally teenagers were disillusioned.

“I wouldn’t want to waste your fluid, Peter. It seems like it was quite an effort to create and accrue. But I appreciate your offer.” Connor finally replied after a moment’s consideration.

[st_arkintern]

"There's not a lot to do here," he says. "I mean, yeah, I got classes, but most of the time I'm just messing around with stuff like my web-fluid."

That and a suit design, though that had sort-of been tabled since Tony showed up.

"If you ever change your mind, let me know."