High Class Android

( @underteika )

“Oh, it’s you again!”

Bonnie hadn’t been expecting to bump into a familiar face on her way towards the ghost hunt. She still had yet to find a comfortable job in the city, hopping from job to job between her contact forming, and the Dust offered for proof of ghosts sounded like a tempting promise. With her a Grim Reaper, it ought to be easy cash.

However, she had yet to reach the haunted cabin before running into the one who had helped her with the hair dye months ago.

Bonnie may have gotten herself curious about just how powerful the candies could be and went with a costume she personally considered overpowered. What’s more is that a grim reaper wouldn’t be a foreign, completely organic being to transform into.

Naturally, the powers aren’t as extreme as she thought they may be. The temperature drops a few degrees with her around, anything she touches gets a smattering of frost on the surface level, and (with mun permission) she can tell if someone has died before (not how nor how many times). Still, it’s a comfortable and concealing cloak, so she’s happy to keep it on for the duration of the event.

Cayden rolled his eyes, and rubbed at his aching wounds. Yeah, that was gonna bruise pretty badly. Frankly, he was pretty lucky they hadn’t pressed charges or anything like that. He still wasn’t too sure how the laws in this place worked, but he was betting they could’ve. He really didn’t want to get arrested.

“Just thought one of their slot machines could use some adjustments,” he explained. He didn’t want to say things outright. “Lever wasn’t working right.” In other words, it wasn’t giving him the odds he wanted. “Wasn’t like I was digging around in the bits where they store the goods or anything.”

“I cannot believe they would kick you out for that. Honestly, it seems as if they ought to be paying you for that kind of assistance.”

Seeing the man rubbing at his shoulder, Bonnie gestured for him to follow her. She didn’t have the magic powers some of the people here seemed to possess, but she did have knowledge that could possibly provide assistance.

“Oh, sorry!” Bonnie hadn’t expected to see someone else stepping on the elevator to some of the upper levels of Fibonacci, and as such she found herself in the way of the door for the newcomer. Naturally, she quickly made to move to the side and allow the stern looking woman on.

Bonnie really wasn’t sure what she was dealing with right now. There were some strange beings here, yes, but this looked... almost like another robot? Maybe? Or an alien? Regardless of what it was, it was a definite non-human that had just crossed her path on the street flying in a little drone. 

Oh no, she’s cute. Time to look at the floor instead.

“Thanks. It just–it um. It’s uh… It’s kinda just like that, you know?” (”What am I saying. Focus.”) “The… uh. Dye. This one. Um.”

Back to the shelf they went, thumbing through certain jars of color rather than the boxes. Their hands picked up a small container off the top shelf, and offered it in her direction.

“……Oh. That’s silver. Um.” (”Hang on…”)

It was exchanged hastily for the color most matching her own.

“There. That one.”

“I’ll trust you on this.” Bonnie accepted the jar from them happily. Only, there was one problem; the jar was definitely one of the more expensive dyes there. She had come here with meagre funds offered to her; it wasn’t exactly a cost she could easily justify for her cover.

Only, she had noticed a sign, one that would help her immensely when paired with her flustered company.

Before, Anda could usually get away with going a while between dyes. Brown roots were easier to hide in dark color hair. And while miraculously the texture of their hair stayed soft (perhaps due to a side effect of always consuming energy from misery) regardless, now they had to cover up more often.

Since the incident at the beginning of the year, their had continued to grow in white, perhaps as a response to too much misery at one time. So here they were, buying their favorite brand.

…A hard thing to do when a pretty woman comes up to ask a question.

“Oh. Um…” … “F-or me? Um. This one, now. Are you, looking for one for you?”

Oh, that was cute. It was not the first time Bonnie had seen someone flustered by her, and it wouldn’t be the last. She wasn’t one to complain about an excuse to make it harder for people to remember details in their stumbling state.

Cayden clutched at his shoulder. He’d landed pretty hard. He’d taken harder knocks before, sure, but that didn’t mean they stopped hurting.

“Yeah. Ow. Shit. Fine.” He staggered to his feet. Curse his rather remarkable appearance. They definitely wouldn’t let him back in there any time soon.

“Those people’ve got no chill. Wasn’t like I was counting cards or anything.” Just  messing with the mechanics of the slot  machines. Surly that wasn’t too bad, right? He was going to put it back to normal when he was done! Shit. His kit was all over the place. He picked up the box and shoved it back into one of his many pockets.

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to count cards using a toolkit?” she agreed, crouching down to pick up a spare screwdriver near her feet. “Unless you’re, like, building a machine to do it for you, and I would suggest doing that at home first.”

Sure, she was probably going to be banned herself from the casino for assisting him now, but was there any point in going in anyways? It looked likely she had found a contact, which had been the entire point of this venture. Question was if he was worth the sacrifice or if he was a two-bit Bonnie could feel no confidence in recommending to others.

“Excuse me, pardon? I don’t mean to intrude, but which of these do you use?”

A large wall of hair dyes stood before Bonnie, far more choices than she was used to, and yet her ‘favourite brand’ was missing. Blue hair was far from a natural colour, and people would likely question hers if she didn’t have a solid brand known for vibrant colours at the ready for her cover story.

Casinos were a terrible place to make money, but a brilliant place to make contacts. Why put herself at risk counting cards when she could just bubble along between tables and try and keep her balance just at even so she could instead keep an eye out for those already gaming the system? Those were the people she wanted in her network, the ones able to slip in for an inside job.

Only, Bonnie hadn’t even stepped into the building before she came across something of interest. A man being roughly thrown out from the building? There had to be something going on there.

Wherever it was, nobody here seemed to know her. She had even crossed paths with a police officer the other day and hadn’t gotten a second glance! But the trade off was that all her own contacts had vanished; her new phone contained hundreds of numbers but not a single name she recognized.

What did one do with this kind of unfamiliar unfettered freedom? Bonnie wasn’t sure whether to first try and see if the others were truly here, or if she ought to build up her web of contacts, or if she was supposed to just lay low. What was a machine without someone to give her directives?

So, that’s what she would do. Find someone to point her the right way. Bonnie stepped outside the safety of ‘her’ apartment, seeking someone that didn’t look too terribly preoccupied or busy.